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Timothy

I stare down at Arianette, and for a moment I let myself forget everything waiting beyond this room.

She is tucked beneath the blankets in my bed, her copper curls spread across the pillow in a halo that still looks almost unreal to me. The exhaustion has finally claimed her. After the performance and everything she dragged out of the darkest corners of her memory tonight, I can see the toll it has taken on her. Her face is soft in sleep, the tension that has lived around her eyes for so long finally gone. I reach down and run my fingers carefully through one of those curls, still stunned by the transformation. She is beautiful in every version of herself, but there is something different about her tonight. Something stronger. She faced the demons that broke her and survived it again.

Which makes what I have to do next feel like a betrayal.

I know where Amber is, which should lead me to the girls. And if I stay here, I may lose the only opportunity I have to get to them before Amber makes her next move.

Leaving Arianette alone feels wrong on every level. After everything she has endured, after everything I failed to see while she was suffering right under my nose, the idea of walking away from her now makes something inside my chest twist. But I also know myself well enough to understand that if I don't go, I will spend the rest of my life wondering whether I could have ended this sooner.

I reach beneath the pillow and slide the blade into place where she can find it if she wakes and needs it. It is not much, but it is something.

I bend over her and press my mouth to her forehead. “I’ll be back soon.”

She doesn't stir.

I straighten slowly, forcing myself to turn away from the bed before I can change my mind and crawl under the covers with her.

Outside the door, Slade’s massive frame nearly fills the hallway, his arms folded across his chest as he watches me step out. His brother is outside with Carson, Jude, and Patrick, all four of them armed and patrolling the property. It isn't much of an army compared to what the Barons could once command, but they are loyal, and tonight loyalty matters more than numbers.

“She’s asleep,” I tell Slade. “No one gets to her, not until we’re back, understand?”

“Got it.”

He shifts his weight, and the movement makes his shoulders seem even broader. I know he understands what I'm asking him to do. I also know he won't leave that door unless someone drags him away from it.

I give him one last look before heading down the stairs.

DK and Hunter are already out in the field. Their phones are either silenced or they have no signal. Under normal circumstances, I would have trusted Graves to protect Arianette without hesitation, but now? Everything I thought I knew seems upside down, which only amplifies the dread I feel as I drive away from the House of Night. That is only matched by the strange apprehension that comes with knowing this may finally be over.

The hour sits somewhere between night and dawn, when Forsyth feels emptied of people and sound. The roads are nearly deserted as I pass through the iron gates and start up the narrow hill overlooking the grounds.

At the top of the hill stands the mausoleum.

It is smaller than most people would expect for a family with the Kayes name, but there is something imposing about it even in its current state of decay. The structure rises from the earth beneath a peaked roof, its thick columns stained by years of weather, with four broad marble steps leading to the entrance. Once, I imagine, the place must have been immaculate. Now the marble has dulled beneath layers of grime, and weeds push through cracks around the foundation. Wisteria has claimed the walls, thick vines dragging across the stone and curling around the columns. Some have grown so aggressively that they brush against the heads of anyone walking beneath the entrance.

I park several yards away and get out–the weight of the brass key in my pocket anchoring me to the ground. For years, I have walked these grounds, attended funerals and rites. I was here when Clive was placed in the mausoleum with the rest of his family.

I never thought to look beneath the surface.

I’m standing at the bottom of the steps when another vehicle turns through the cemetery entrance, and my body reacts before my mind does. I shift my weight and reach for the gun strapped against my side, positioning myself so I have a clear view of the approaching SUV. There is no point in hiding. Whoever is coming has already seen my car, and there is nowhere worth running to from here, but at least I can have the upper hand.

The vehicle rolls to a slow stop behind mine, the soft crunch of gravel masked by the pounding of my heartbeat.

The interior light comes on as the doors open, and my hand drops away from the weapon.

Remy climbs out first, which is surprising enough, but not as much as when Whitaker follows.

I stare at them both, irritation fighting with relief.

“You following me?” I ask once they reach the bottom of the steps.

Whitaker shrugs. “Pace may have put a tracker on your car.”

“A what?” I stare at them both. “You don’t trust me?”