Page 99 of Wild Fury (Fallen Royals 6)

“Go,” Three B says, pushing me away. “It’s okay.”

She rushes back the way she came, and I stand in the middle of the alley for a moment—until glass hitting the fire escape draws my gaze upward. The heat and pressure of the smoke must’ve broken the window, and now the black smoke billows out.

I take one more glance at the mouth of the alley, then spin and rush away.

But where to go?

I jog away from my apartment building. The smell of smoke follows me. There’s soot on my shoulders, in my hair. I wipe my face with my sleeve, but it does no good.

The sirens seem to be following me, so I duck into a diner and cross to the bathroom. No one looks at me twice. I’m not in the best part of the Bronx, but I had picked my apartment for the landlord’s lack of attention to details.

That’s how I made it work.

I’ve been close—too close—for a year. Close enough to throw a stone and hit my hometown. Close enough to imagine that I see Theo sometimes. I didn’t have Wilder blocking me from New England or New York City anymore. He had given me a new name, a passport, a social security number.

But I don’t think anyone expected me to gravitate back home.

I run the water and scrub my hands and face. I can’t do anything about my hair. I try to pick out the flakes of ash, but it just smears in the wheat-blonde color. Giving up on that, I tie it up in a bun and hope no one notices.

And then I pause.

It’s not like I can afford to be heartbroken by this right now. Fear kicks through me, jolting me awake. I didn’t expect retaliation… but this could be it. Clients hire me to dig out the truth—to pry it into the light. Cheating husbands, stealing business partners, long-lost children or parents… I’ve found them, I’ve photographed them. The evidence is plain. Photos don’t lie.

Sometimes I think about how I’d feel if someone caught me at my lowest point. But then I remember that I’m still on a downward spiral, even eighteen months after Wilder plucked me from LBU and forced me to change. To leave.

To become someone new.

That’s exactly what he was going to do to my sister.

But this city has its own laws, I have a bad habit of getting in trouble.

It was bound to happen—but here? Now?

I pull out the folder of photos. The governor and his mistress. People who most certainly should not be caught together—not if he wants to keep his government position. Bill Clinton was impeached for less than what this man is doing.

I thought I was invisible, but he must’ve seen me. A guard, maybe?

I look around. My imagination is running away with me, but I have two choices: continue on as I am or consider the fact that someone might’ve just tried to kill me. It’s twisted logic.

Better safe than sorry.

I climb up on the toilet and shove back one of the squares in the drop ceiling. It’s dark and musty-smelling up there, but it’ll do. If someone saw me leave…

I dig my wallet and phone out of the bag and zip it back up, then stuff the whole thing into the ceiling. The boards hold its weight, and I carefully replace the last one. Hopping down, I brush off my hands and wash them again for good measure.

I’ll regroup when I know I’m safe—and when the governor’s wife pays up. But until then… I have to disappear. Again.

28

Lux

Two years gone

“All rise,” the bailiff instructs.

We do, the rustle of fabric and creaks of the wooden benches the only sounds in the courtroom. The jury files back in, one at a time, and takes their seats. We sit. We wait.

The judge asks for their verdict, and I hold my breath.

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