Page 53 of Sinful Palace

The crowd of supporters screamed and wolf-whistled, and thousands of little flags and banners rose in the air.

Mom waved her own little flag. “Let’s get this parade started!” she called out over the raucous cheers.

A band started playing Hail to the Chief as we stepped down from the porch and made our way toward the family float. I held Jared’s hand as we climbed up, and we kept bright smiles on our faces as we waved to everyone from our new vantage point.

Mom stepped right to the front of the float and held both arms in the air, waving manically at the people lining Pennsylvania Avenue. “Thank you!” she said over and over as the float slowly moved farther and farther down the road. “Thank you so much!”

She turned and beckoned for Jared to join her at the front. He ran over to her and gave her a hug, drawing an adoring sigh from the spectators.

Dad sidled up to me by the Statue of Liberty replica and put an arm around my shoulder. I tried my best not to flinch, and my jaw ached as I kept the smile plastered on my face.

“I’ve been trying to get in contact with you,” he murmured through his own fake grin.

“I know,” I said, waving at a cute kid on the edge of the road. “Logan told me about the messages.”

“You didn’t reply to any of them.”

“I didn’t want to. I’m sure you understand.”

He went silent for a moment. “Is it still bad for you with the Thornes?” he finally asked.

I looked at him. “I’m still going to be forced to marry Logan, if that’s what you’re asking. But honestly, as bad as that is, I’d rather be locked up in Wonderland than standing here on this float with you.”

His smile faded, and he leaned closer. “Darling, I know you hate me, but—”

A gunshot ripped through the air, cutting him off. My body jolted at the thundering sound, and I instinctively reached up to cover my head as a strangled cry escaped my mouth.

“Willow,” Dad muttered, pulling me closer. “It’s okay. One of the float trucks backfired somewhere up ahead.”

I opened my eyes to see that he was right. There was no gun. Everything was fine. Mom and Jared were still smiling and waving, albeit nervously as the shock of the sudden sound wore off, and the crowd was still cheering and clapping as we slowly passed them.

My heart kept pounding anyway, and I gulped down several deep breaths as I forced myself to smile again.

“I’m going to fix everything for you,” Dad said, squeezing my arm.

I sniffed. “You can’t.”

“I can. I swear, I’m going to fix this for you,” he said, his tone growing increasingly urgent.

Putting on my best fake grin yet, I glanced over at him. “You sold me, Dad. I’m never going to forgive you.”

“I know. But I’m still going to fix what I did. I promise. I’m finally going to do the right thing.”

I stopped replying and swept my gaze upward. Several military helicopters were flying above the parade, blades beating loudly in the air as they prepared to rain snowflake-shaped confetti all over the floats and crowd.

The confetti finally began to drift downward, and the people lining the street cheered even louder and lifted their arms to catch the glittering flakes. I stretched out a hand to catch one for myself, barely hearing the cries of delight from the crowd as one of the helicopters drew closer to our family float. It was hovering directly above and drowning out the other sounds with the whir of the blades and the roar of the engine.

“Why is that one so close?” I asked, looking at my father.

He looked up, and his face immediately turned ashen. He shoved me forward, shouting at everyone to get off the float. At the same time, there was an almighty crash, so loud it echoed in my ears.

I reflexively crouched down and whipped my head around to see that a body had just landed right next to me.

Milky eyes stared into the cold sky as the blue-tinged mouth hung open, and the limbs splayed out over the glitter-covered floor, bloodlessly white. The person wasn’t familiar, and they obviously hadn’t been alive when they were dropped from the helicopter. It was a frozen corpse, presumably taken from a morgue.

My nostrils filled with the smell of death and chemicals, and my stomach heaved as pandemonium erupted around me. I was about to flee when I spotted something in the corpse’s slack mouth. It was a rolled-up note with the Order’s red skull symbol stamped on one end.

I snatched it out before anyone noticed in all the furor, and I stashed it in my pocket as a Secret Service agent grabbed me and dragged me off the float. People were panicking all around us, screaming hysterically and sobbing.

The agent shoved me into a black car along with my mother and Jared, and my stomach pitched and rolled with terror as I struggled to fill my lungs.

“What the hell is happening?” I whispered to myself, pressing one hand to my forehead.

Mom was busy comforting Jared on the other side of the car, too caught up to notice me, so I took the opportunity to peek at the note from the corpse’s mouth. As I unrolled the paper, adrenaline flushed through my body, and the sound of my heartbeat thrashed in my ears.

The note was short and simple; just one word printed in black ink beneath another crimson Order symbol.

STOP.

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