Page 14 of Legacy of Chaos

Cyan stood in the middle of her living room, staring at the boxes piled next to the door.

Shanea’s boxes.

On one of the shelves, a selfie of Cyan and Shan at an office party looked back at her. Behind them, her fiancé, Draven, photobombed them with a goofy face.

Fresh pain sliced through Cyan’s heart. She missed them both so much.

She smiled sadly at another reminder, a holoimage of Cyan, Shanea, and Xoei at brunch at their favorite Parisian restaurant. Next to that, hanging on the wall, was a picture of Cyan and Shan at Disney World.

And next to that…

Cyan went cold. Her inspiration board, a four-foot by four-foot corkboard she’d had since high school, hung there, mockingher with pictures of Stryke and articles about his company, inventions, and success.

She’d idolized him once. She’d felt a connection to his drive and curious mind. She’d wanted to be as notable in her field of work as he was in his. And it didn’t hurt that he was one of the most gorgeous males she’d ever seen.

Then, within a matter of months, her parents, Shan, and Draven had all died—victims of Stryke’s inventions. And when he was asked to speak publicly about the incident at DART that’d killed three people, including Shan and Draven, he’d basically said that accidents were bound to happen and, overall, the benefits of the weapons outweighed the deaths of a couple of demons.

A couple of demons.

Fuck The Aegis. Fuck StryTech. Fuck everything.

Furious, her eyes burning with unshed tears, she tore down the board and smashed it against the wall. Beat it until the cork shattered and the drywall dented.

Why, why,whydid Shanea have to die?

Hurling the board’s skeletal remains to the floor, she threw herself onto the couch and buried her face in her hands. She wanted to cry, but there was nothing left. So much had gone wrong. Her best friends were dead, her enthusiasm for her job was just as dead, and she’d been a jackass to her boss.

And avacationwouldn’t fix any of it.

Someone knocked on the door, and she ignored it for a moment, content to dwell in her pity party. But the knock came again, harder and faster. Both annoyed and grateful for the interruption, she glanced over at the security monitor screen on the wall next to the gas fireplace.

Kynan’s daughter stood outside her door, waving at the camera. Weird. She hadn’t seen Dawn in months.

“Door,” she called out. “Open.”

The lock on the door clicked, and Dawn entered.

“Hey.” The dark-haired, blue-eyed female was the spitting image of her father, although she’d gotten her mother’s slight build and sense of humor. “I’m sorry I didn’t comms you first.”

Suspicion slithered through Cyan, and she narrowed her eyes at the other female. “Did your dad send you?”

Dawn sauntered inside, her form-fitting black jeans and strategically slashed emerald silk tank top revealing more skin than her father would have liked. “He has no idea I’m here. Why?”

“He wants to send me on an assignment, and I refused. Rudely.”

Dawn laughed. “It’s good for him to not always get his way.”

Maybe, but he hadn’t seemed to appreciate it. “I should probably apologize anyway.” Cyan gestured to the kitchen, where Shanea’s teapot sat on the stove, collecting dust. “Would you like a glass of wine? Or tea?”

Please, don’t say tea. She didn’t know why she’d even asked. She wasn’t sure she could make it without breaking down.

“Nah, I can only stay for a minute.” Dawn held out the bag in her hand. “I wanted to bring you this.”

“What is it?” Cyan stood to take the sparkly white gift bag.

Dawn hesitated and then quietly said, “It was a gift from Shanea.”

Cyan froze, her fingers clenching the handles tightly. “I don’t understand.”

---