Page 50 of The Last Shadow

Frankie scoffs. “You’re the guest of honor. They literally can’t start without you.”

She has a point, but still. “Let’s go.”

The ride to the theater is quiet, at least on my end. My mind keeps drifting to other details beyond tonight’s award. Sure, I’m proud of what Dr. Atkins and I have accomplished, but there are still names on The List waiting to be scratched off, and the hunger for that never quite leaves me.

“Wow,” Olivia breathes out. “I can’t believe this. It’s like the Oscars but for nerds.”

Frankie and I share a laugh at her unintentionally backhanded compliment. I turn to my wife, studying her face. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. No.” She shakes her head. “I’m ready.”

The red-carpet circus takes ten minutes before we’re finally inside and led to our seats. Front and center, naturally. We’re sharing a table with other honorees, which suits me fine. Despite what Frankie says about my brilliance, I have zero desire to be in the spotlight more than my work and wealth already force me to be.

“It’s packed in here,” Olivia whispers to Frankie, her earlier excitement giving way to nerves.

“These things are always filled to the brim,” Frankie reassures her with practiced ease. “Just smile and act like you belong because you do. Besides, I see a few people around the room trying to work up the courage to come and talk to you.”

“No!” Olivia’s eyes go wide as she frantically scans the room.

“Yes. I’ll help you get started and then I have to play the role of arm candy to the big guy,” Frankie tells her.

Olivia snorts. “More like he’s your arm candy.”

Frankie’s laugh carries across the table. “I’m not sure which of us you just insulted, but I’m still going to introduce you.”

I watch them walk away together, satisfied. Olivia needs someone like Frankie in her corner, someone she can trust and rely on. Settling back in my chair, I observe the room with careful attention. All the so-called important people in the city are here in their fancy dress. The mayor’s chatting up the chief of police while the district attorney huddles in the corner with Jay and another award recipient. Civil servants rubbing elbows with the elites.

One big fucking fraud.

But that’s not my focus tonight. No, my attention is fixed on something—someone—else. He doesn’t deserve the long, happy life he’s living, free to roam the streets. Not after what he did.

What he failed to do.

Whattheyfailed to do.

I can’t act now, of course, but as the night progresses, a plan takes shape in my mind. It wouldn’t take much, especiallykeeping my promise to Francesca to make it clean and quick. Well, maybe nottooquickly, but clean and efficient.

When I take the stage, the award feels heavy in my hand as I face the crowd for my acceptance speech. Nothing special, but somehow different. I thank the voters, the people who genuinely care about making a difference in this world, and of course, the assholes who fund it all.

“This all started as a small project with a very specific purpose: to help my sister. All I wanted was to hear her voice again and I worked diligently with the help of Dr. Atkins to make it happen, and now here we are.”

A ripple of laughter moves through the room, and I feel myself relax slightly. The speech flows perfectly because I won’t accept any other outcome. I’ve spent weeks preparing, crafting every poignant, heartfelt word until the audience is completely pulled in. When they rise to their feet with thunderous applause, I say, “Thank you. Truly.”

The applause is nice, but it doesn’t feed me the way certain other things in life do. Still, I give them the expected smile as I thrust the golden trophy skyward, pretending it means everything. The applause swells even louder, and finally I’m back beside Francesca.

“That was some speech. Consider me impressed.” She bumps her shoulder against mine before pulling me into a hug. “Good job. No, great job.”

“Thank you, my pet.” I kiss the top of her head, my gaze connecting first with Jay, then the former chief of police, before I offer a bland smile to everyone watching.

Frankie pulls back, studying me with that sharp detective’s eye before turning to flash a brilliant smile at the crowd. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

Like she doesn’t already know. “Just thinking. About The List.”

I feel her body go rigid as she leans into me. “I thought the boys from Hope House were all taken care of. Damien, you promised.”

That’s what I told her, and it wasn’t a lie. “They are,” I assure her truthfully. “The problem is that they aren’t the only ones on The List.” I hold her gaze, willing her to understand what I’m really saying. “Do you even want to know more?”

She nibbles her bottom lip, her tell when she’s weighing something carefully. “Nope. But thank you for asking.” Those full, glossy pink lips draw closer until they press against mine. When she pulls back with a soft moan, her eyelids flutter like butterfly wings. “That never gets old.”

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