Page 33 of The Syndicater (Dark Verse 6)

Tristan wondered about that. How was it possible that they had never even heard of The Syndicate if it had been in the operation for so many years? Unless…

"Any news about The Alliance?" he asked.

Morana immediately turned to face him, eager to share what she had, a clear contrast to her previous response. Fuck, she was so obvious it would've been pathetic had it been anyone but her. No, for this, he was grateful because it kept him in the loop of everything going on in her head. It was her body's and face's inability to keep things from him that had made him realize how much he aroused her in the beginning, how he'd known to follow her into that bathroom, knowing she wouldn't reject him. It was this inability that had told him how much she craved being free while still belonging, how much she hurt, how she still went on. It was this inability that had told him how much she had struggled with the revelations about her real identity, how much she had struggled after getting shot, how many demons still haunted her about Zenith's death.

But that was the thing about her demons. They had always looked out from her eyes, baring their soul for him to see, and called his own to the fore.

That was what she'd told Dante once on a plane ride like this. His demons danced with hers. Well, at least they were graceful enough to because he couldn't dance for shit, even thoughhe'd tried that one time at Maroni's party because she'd been confusing the hell out of him.

Something clicked in his brain suddenly. "Can you get a guest list for a party?"

Morana blinked, her eyes looking like an owl's behind those oversized glasses she hadn't taken off since yesterday. Her look of confusion was cute, and so was the wild look she shot Alpha's way before focusing on him. "What party?"

"The one Lorenzo had given," he reminded her. "Right after we went to Tenebrae."

A smile turned her lips up as she remembered. "That was years ago, Tristan."

"The Shadow Man had been at the party," he reminded her. "He'd warned you that night."

Her smile fell as the memories of that night came back to her. That night had shifted so many things for them, changed the course of their entire relationship. And begurdgingly, he had to admit the Shadow Man's warning for her life had kept him alerted, more than he would've been otherwise.

"So?" she asked.

"So, no one crashed a Maroni party."

"I did," she gave him a smug grin, reminding him of the first time they'd met as adults.

Tristan felt his lips twitch. "Did you?"

The way her grin fell was amusing. Her eyes narrowed, the hazel in them shining with murder he had seen so often reflected. "You didn't!"

He didn't confirm or deny her allegation, just stayed silent.

"You mean he must have had an invitation?" Alpha's voice made him turn and consider the other man.

Tristan nodded. "Lorenzo used to amp up security even more than normal at his parties. The guest list demanded it. He didn'twant anyone trying to kill him or anyone dying if he wasn't killing them."

The other man leaned forward, elbows on knees and hands hanging. Tristan glanced at his scars covered with tattoos visible under his shirt. He was possibly one of the most physically damaged men he'd seen. Tristan had enough scars of his own, and he knew the kind of torture that left them. He might not be particularly fond of Alpha but he could respect the strength in him to survive whatever he had gone through and still come out on top of his game.

"You're saying if we can get the guest list," Morana deduced, all excited, "we can get a pool of names, one of whom could possibly be the Shadow Man?"

Tristan gave a nod.

"That means that father dearest—" the sarcasm in Alpha's tone was obvious "—knew him in real."

"You think he knew who the Shadow Man is? In real?" Morana asked with shock, which was evident in her tone. Lorenzo Maroni knowing someone didn't bode well. If true evil had a face, it would have been Lorenzo's.

Alpha shook his head. "I doubt anyone does. I literally tracked a man down who I thought might give us a clue."

"Who?"

"One of the earliest rumored kills by him," the scarred man explained. "It's a rumor on the ground. An orphanage that burned down about twenty-five years ago. Oddly, no kids were there, just a bunch of adults. There were some whispers that it was his doing. The man had been a caretaker of the place and escaped."

Morana gasped. "Let's say he did it. If we assume he did it in his twenties, that puts him in his mid-forties."

"You don't have to be an adult to kill, wildcat," Tristan pointed out, knowing from experience that children could be murderers.

Morana sobered at his reminder. "True. Even then. Even if he was young and he's the one who did that, he'd be at least in his thirties right now. That does narrow the pool down." She turned to Alpha. "What did the man say?"

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