Page 32 of Scarlet Wars
“Cara Sinclair. Emile heard she’s going to reach out to you.”
“No idea who she is. She’s going to reach out to Crown?”
“No.” His gaze locked onto mine. “You. Specifically.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“Emile couldn’t find out. Just that she is planning to nex you in the upcoming days.”
“Sounds charming. I can’t wait.”
Rocco huffed a laugh, but it faded quickly. “It’s been almost a month since we retrieved the Amplifier. How much longer do you think Emile should stay with them?”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Do I need to pull him?”
Rocco hesitated, his fingers flexing at his sides. “He’s too proud to say it, but he’s been…distant. Withdrawn.”
I exhaled, before running a hand through my hair. “Sometimes it’s easier to keep your distance. When you’re undercover, it can get very difficult when you’re distracted by the real connections you have. Give it time, he’ll come back to us.”
Rocco clenched his jaw, clearly unconvinced.
My patience started thinning. “We still need the intel. But if you think he’s too far gone, pull him out. We’ll find another way.”
Rocco gave me a quick nod, then broke the connection, my mind already turning over the mess this left me with.
Enya was dead.
If Emile was recalled, I’d have no one left inside the Radicals.
I dragged my hand over my face, as the never-ending exhaustion crawled beneath my skin.
Telling Jamesthe new leader of the Radicals wanted a sit-down, went about as well as expected.
After stubbornly refusing to entertain any request from the people responsible for “attacking his Collective with a godsdamn Amplifier,” I managed to get him to agree to attend anyway, convincing him his new leadership position demanded a more diplomatic stance, even if it killed him.
He cursed me out, swore he'd kill me again, then—begrudgingly—yielded to my logic and brilliance. Nothing new there.
Informing Rachel I planned to meet Ms. Sinclair on her territory, however, went surprisingly smooth. Too smooth, really. She got the clearance from her Leader within the hour and even arranged the whole meeting without so much as a raised eyebrow.
Of course, she negotiated terms. Rachel didn’t do me any favors out of the goodness of her heart. She was still First Offensive, protecting her Collective with the same precision she brought to the battlefield. And her Collective was harboring a fugitive—myfugitive.
Rachel’s gaze sharpened as it found mine, the steel in her expression leaving no room for argument. “As long as Emma’s staying here, I need your Offensives here as well.”
“I won’t leave my own Collective unprotected,” I said, my voice steady. “But I’ll call in as many as Crown can spare.”
As was done.
Our interaction left a strange hum beneath my skin though, a tension that didn’t sit right. Rachel was always efficient, but this was too easy. Too smooth. Sinclair had to know we’d be ready for her, and Rachel agreeing so readily meant there was a layer beneath this I couldn’t see yet. But that was a problem for later.
For now, the meeting was set, and Sinclair was walking straight into our hands. Whether she walked out again was still up for debate.
She portaled into one of the abandoned rooms at Arbor Hall.
The glass roof above us was slick with condensation, snow hammering down in thick, relentless sheets. The muted light filtering through the storm cast a dim, watery glow over the room.
James’s Skindo was at her throat, my Chela pressed against the soft skin of her neck, but Cara Sinclair didn’t even flinch.
"Two men pointing their long sticks at me. My, my. How did I get so lucky?"
