Page 148 of Pretty Wicked Secrets

“How do I claim it?” she asks.

Logan taps a small white box in front of him, one whose corners are precisely aligned with the edges of the counter. “DNA. I’ll swab you for it and send it in as proof.”

“Proof?” She looks back and forth between us all in confusion. “But… but I thought he was dead?”

“The estate had a DNA sample taken from the grandmother. They’re holding it to match against the heir, as proof.”

He opens the little box efficiently, laying out each piece and instructing Chloe in what he needs to do to obtain a proper swab. As he takes it, Dante murmurs quietly into his phone, arranging to have a Reaper come pick it up and, presumably, deliver it to whoever it is who can confirm that Chloe is William Sutherland’s granddaughter and heir.

Chloe snatches her coffee back up as soon as Logan’s done with the swab, holding it with both hands and staring down into it. “So, once we get the money…”

She looks up over the rim, her eyes seeking out mine.

“We’ll have to leave Halston,” I say, a lump in my throat. “The way we talked about.”

She nods.

“West Point still wants you,” Dante says to her, sounding a hell of a lot more subdued than he usually does, which just makes my throat feel even tighter. “They’re dangerous.”

Chloe snort-laughs, then shakes her head. “I know.”

“I killed some of McKenna’s people,” Maddoc says flatly. “We were already at war—”

“But shit’s about to get even worse,” Dante finishes for him.

Chloe nods again, then takes another drink of her coffee. She’s not going to argue because she’s smart enough to know this is what has to happen. She doesn’t ask to stay, or complain about needing to leave behind everything she’s known.

She also doesn’t ask about Frank.

“Chloe?”

She looks up from her coffee.

My sister has the biggest heart of anyone I know, and I hate to be the one to bruise it. But even though Frank doesn’t deserve how much she cared for him, how much she alwayshoped, she did care. And she deserves the truth.

Not that it makes being the one who has to tell her he’s gone any easier.

I clear my throat. “I know you tried to get in touch with Frank. Um, we went there afterward, and he’d been—”

“I know,” she interrupts me softly, sadness washing over her face. “I heard it happen.”

42

RILEY

The split-second hintof relief I feel over Chloe already knowing, over not having to be the one to break the news to her, is completely obliterated by the horrible scenarios my imagination supplies abouthowshe might have heard that.

My heart thumps painfully in my chest. “What?”

Did she go to see him? Was she hiding somewhere in the room while West Point tortured him?

Maddoc must see the horror on my face, because he speaks up when Chloe hesitates. “We checked Frank Sutton’s place thoroughly. The only signs of anyone else being there were McKenna’s men. Not your sister.”

I relax, believing him. Trusting him. But I still look to Chloe to confirm it.

She nods, then shakes her head. “No, I didn’t go there. But I was getting desperate,” she whispers. “The money was running low and I’d had a couple of close calls trying to dodge people who were asking around about me. It was getting harder to stay hidden, so I… I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know what was happening with you, Riley. So I called Dad.”

I squeeze her hand in encouragement when she sniffles. “What happened?”

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