The Syndicate's Ghost: Don's Forgotten Queen

er's

, over Kasey Sharpe's address. Eli's heartbeat, a rhythmic thrum against my wrist, was a

frantic bird trap

nce and sent a jolt through my body. It came

ualties of war. Drawers gaped open, their contents disgorged across the carpet. A lamp lay shatter

ce a low tremor, tight with

iek, he launched himself at me, his small

s a m

loor in a heap. A piercing scream tore from h

s if it were broken. "You hurt me! I'm going

ay, my hand

om, tortured by two sounds: the manufactured sobs of the boy upstairs a

Matriarch. A woman who looked as if she'd been carved from glacial ice, her defining feat

stairs; she came straight for me, her face a thunderous mask.

p the grand staircase and down the hall to Cody's room. Kasey was already the

h-perfect imitation of panic as she dabbed a cool cloth on the boy'

rway, trapped in the Matriarch's grip. A small,

me," he w

rical gasp. "He was so scare

ma pants, revealing a dark, ugly bruise blooming on his shin. A bruise I had ne

snapped to the side, my che

e a low, venomous whisper. "You dare lay a ha

taking in the tableau: his hysterical mother, his distraught mistress, his sick so

dn't ask a single question. He didn't search for the tr

to the two guards wh

s. I didn't fight.

across the dark estate grounds to a small, stone building near th

lock grinding into place. It was dark, and the cold was immed

t. The slow, stead

r, pooling around my ankles. It rose slowl

the lake, consumed me. The cold, the dark, the water. My d

folded into the icy blac