Page 136 of Riordan's Revenge

Riordan

On foot, I circled the warehouse, noting the lack of music vibrating the air. At this time of night, the clubs should be busy, but there was no queue outside Divide. No doorman at the entrance to Divine.

Evading the security crew at the mayor’s house had taken longer than expected. Struan and I had hidden for over an hour, but we’d finally managed to slip away. I’d told him to go ahead and not wait for me, needing the headspace of a long walk back. I knew for a fact Cassie hadn’t messaged—I’d put my phone onto Do Not Disturb for all but her.

No text or call had come in.

I prowled the perimeter of the warehouse’s grounds, delaying going inside. Some form of intuition bothered me. A doubt, or maybe a need to be alert and pay attention. Perhaps it was cowardice.

If I didn’t see Cassie, she couldn’t break things off with me, and I was almost certain that was coming.

Instead, I circled the building and returned to the front.

The door opened, and a woman exited. Behind her was a flurry of action. People moving.

She made a beeline for my direction, her peek up at me tentative. “Riordan?”

I didn’t know her name but recognised her. She’d served drinks to the protesters with Cassie and Moniqua. She had tiny strands of something glittery in her hair, which was why I remembered her.

There was another reason. I tilted my head, trying to work out where I’d seen her previously. “Yes?”

“Cassie asked me to find you.”

My wary intuition grew. “She’s back?”

“She was. She’s gone out again with Mr Daniels. Something’s going down in the city tonight, and all the important people left. I’m not sure of the details. I’m just the messenger.”

“What’s the message?”

Her shoulders rose.

I didn’t like this. Not at all. Why hadn’t Cassie called or waited for me?

The woman held out a folded piece of paper then bobbed her head and walked away, the threads woven into her hair twinkling in the light.

A note?

Ice formed in my veins. Cassie had received one of these. Alisha, too. I wasn’t the object of a killer’s interest, and besides, Bronson had been taken down. What the hell was this? Not Cassie’s style.

If it was even from her.

Then the memory clicked of how I knew the messenger. It was from when Struan and I had been arrested. She was the staffer with the hoodie up, slipping into enemy territory.

“Wait,” I called.

She turned around.

“What were you doing in Four Miler territory?”

Her gaze shot down, and she moved to the corner of the building. “Like I said, I’m just the messenger. Read it.”

I checked around to make sure I wasn’t about to be rushed, then unfolded the paper.

Unlike with my mother’s handwriting, I didn’t know Cassie’s. Couldn’t be sure if the feminine hand was hers. Until I read the opening line.

Each word damned me.

Gutted me.

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