Page 77 of Devil's Riches

Nate frowned and shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

I leaned forward. “My dad originally thought there were twelve families in the Golden Circle, but I think the body count at Blackthorne threw him off.”

Comprehension finally dawned on Nate’s face. “Fuck, you’re right,” he said, brows shooting up. “Greg killed thirteen people that night. But if there were twelve families taking one victim each in every cycle, there should’ve only been twelve people for him to kill.”

“Exactly. I think that confused my dad. He obviously thought there were twelve families when he started his research, but those murders made him wonder if there could actually be thirteen families.” I pointed to the central dot again. “I think that’s what this means.”

“Wait.” Nate lifted a palm. “What about the whole star sign thing? We know that’s what the Golden Circle decided to use as their symbology, but there are only twelve signs. So how can there be thirteen families?”

For a split-second, I visualized my theory crashing down like a house of cards. Then a burst of adrenaline shot through my veins, and I sat up straight.

“Hold on. I remember reading something when I was looking into the whole Babylonian zodiac thing the other day,” I said, fingers flying over the laptop keyboard. “Here it is.”

I read aloud from the webpage. “The Babylonian zodiac calendar was based on the main constellations that the sun moves through each year. They wanted the number of constellations to match the months of the year, which they calculated based on phases of the moon, but that left them with a problem, because there were twelve months and thirteen constellations. They ended up leaving the thirteenth constellation out of the zodiac to make things easier and neater. However, some people who believe in astrology count the thirteenth constellation as an extra star sign. Ophiuchus.”

“Never heard of it,” Nate said, rubbing his jaw.

“I’m guessing most people haven’t. But we know the Golden Circle are really into Babylonian history, judging by their decision to use star signs in their symbology in the first place, so they’d definitely know about it,” I said.

Nate went quiet for a moment. “Why do you think your dad put the dot in the center?” he finally asked, motioning to the circle picture again. “Why not draw a new circle with thirteen dots around the edge?”

My brows dipped low. “I’m not sure. Maybe he thought the thirteenth family was in charge of the whole scheme?”

“That could be it. But I guess there’s only one way to find out,” he said. “Let’s go back to the bunker.”

We headed outside and walked toward the woods.

It was a blustery gray day. The leaves had turned from vibrant reds and oranges to faded brown and had mostly left the trees. The ugly weather and creepy, skeletal-looking trees didn’t put a dampener on my mood, though. The cold air seemed to be humming with excitement and anticipation, and my footsteps on the dead leaves felt lighter and bouncier than they had in years. I knew our thirteenth family theory was right. I could feel it in my bones.

When we stepped down into the bunker, I noticed that Annalise looked worse than ever. Her skin looked gray, and her cheeks were hollow.

“There’s a thirteenth family, isn’t there?” Nate said, staring down at her.

She didn’t reply. The shocked look on Greg’s face told me we were right, though.

“Who are they?” I asked, focusing my gaze on him.

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Can’t tell you.”

I leaned down and slapped him across the face as hard as I possibly could. His head snapped back from the force of the blow, and blood beaded on his bottom lip.

“I’ll hit her next if you don’t answer,” I said, gesturing to Annalise. “Is that what you want?”

Annalise raised her head. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. “You don’t understand. We can’t tell you who they are.”

I rolled my eyes, sick of hearing the same old story. “Let me guess. You don’t want Nate to get into trouble.”

“No. We literally can’t tell you!” she said, chest heaving with sobs.

“What do you mean?”

She sniffed. “I don’t know who they are. None of us do.”

“Stop talking,” Greg cut in, gripping her right arm.

“It’s too late,” Annalise replied, turning her tearstained face to him. “They already know about them.”

I stared at her, thunderstruck. “What the hell do you mean? You really don’t know who the thirteenth family is?”

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