Page 96 of When Hearts Awaken

“Why do I feel like there’s a catch to all of this?”

He scoffs as he sways the lighter in front of him. “There’s always a catch. The Association is formed on blackmail of illegal deeds. You get power, but once you’re in, you’re a slave to it.”

The air thins as I put the pieces together. This was why Grandma said I should avoid it—she knew about the ugly fine print. This was the reason behind Maxwell’s cryptic comment before.

“And Ian is…” I whisper.

“A member.”

Nausea sweeps through me like a sudden storm. “What does this mean?”

Fuck, please tell me this isn’t what it means.

“A member was found dead in the prison three years ago. On his phone was a photo of him and Ian in New York City during the time you asked me about. They were in a lounge and there were women. Intoxicated women. I saved a copy of the photo when I found it and deleted the original.”

The floor swirls around me and I knot my hands around the lapels of his suit. “What are you saying? Spit it out, Elias. Enough of the cloak and dagger shit.”

He stares at me, his green eyes unfazed. “I’m saying he was in the city and he’s a member of an illegal society. And he was at a party wherewomen,” he swallows, a muscle twitching in his jaw, his eyes flashing with ire, “women were getting taken advantage of.”

Elias yanks my hands off him and shoves me, his face turning red. This is personal to him. I don’t know why, but this investigation has struck a nerve. “I don’t know why you’re looking into Ian, but youfuckingput the dots together.”

He takes a deep breath and his face is once again the chilly mobster we’ve all come to know. “Our deal is done.” He takes a photo from his jacket and hands it to me. “Remember, you owe me a favor. Anywhere, anytime. I’ll be in touch when I want to collect.”

Without another word, he walks away, leaving me reeling with the news.

My uncle—the harmless, loving man I often wished was my father instead of my real dad—is in a society formed on blackmail? Why would he need to join such a thing? He’s a Vaughn—we’re in the top one percent of wealth in the country. He can get whatever he wants without resorting to clandestine methods.

Questions hammer inside my mind, the nausea churning, the waves higher and higher. My fingers shaking, I turn over the photo.

And there he is, his face flushed, tie askew, hair mussed, his arms slung around another man.

I make out the small logo on the cocktail napkin in his hand.

Hotel Renegade, New York City.

The time stamp, October 5th, seven and a half years ago.

Chapter 40

There were no flowersthis morning, and he didn’t respond to my messages.

Dressed in my Odile costume while the makeup artist helps with the final touches of my black swan getup, I quickly open our text message thread. The last messages are the ones I sent him yesterday.

Taylor

I love the roses. How did you find them in the dead of winter?

Taylor

Will I be seeing you tomorrow for the last performance in St. Petersburg?

Taylor

I miss you.

Taylor

Reason number one: You chase away the monsters in my dreams and I want to fall asleep in your arms.

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