Page 84 of Unraveling Fate

Cadenza bowed and glided offstage, a vision in blue. She’d worn blue the first time she’d accompanied him to an event. It suited her. He’d have to make sure he told her so this evening. Not for the first time, he reveled in the satisfaction of knowing he was here to support Cadenza’s singing when Taran couldn’t be.

Reyna took the stage next, and Canon let his gaze range over the audience, assessing their desires. Again, something felt off. Some cog out there was not spinning in the direction he wanted it to turn. In the back of the hall, Vasilios cut his eyes at two security personnel next to an exit door and gave a miniscule nod. The guards slipped out of the ballroom.

In the wings on the opposite side of the stage, Cadenza accepted a bouquet of two dozen roses from a stagehand. Canon gauged her reaction and allowed himself a small smirk when her face lit up in surprise. He’d given the stagehand instructions to deliver the flowers anonymously. He’d let Cadenza know they were from him at a useful moment. She might be with Taran now, but Canon wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t feel what he felt, and he had no intention of bowing out gracefully.

The two security guards who’d left the ballroom marched down the hall, flanked Cadenza, and whispered in her ear.

Canon stiffened. It was possible that the Norroway brothers had arrived, but it wouldn’t take two security guards to deliver that message. He glanced back at Vasilios.

Who was no longer in the back of the room.

He looked back to the wings just in time to see the hem of Cadenza’s dress disappear around the corner. He hadn’t given orders to security about escorting Cadenza anywhere. He spun and hurried through the series of backstage hallways.

Some cog out of sync. Some piece of the puzzle missing.

Someone playing a different game.

Whoever had tried to run Cadenza off the road, planted the car bomb, and sent the sniper, was still out there. Besides firing people, Vasilios was supposed to have swept the balcony for evidence, but he hadn’t reported on it yet, claiming he was still working with the police.

Canon shivered, the hair on his arms standing on end. When Vasilios wanted something done, it got done.

What did he want done right now?

What are you thinking? Vasilios has only ever supported you.Canon threw open a rehearsal room door, denial threading a jagged path through his thoughts. The room was empty. The next was locked. He peered through the window slit in the top of the door, but it was dark.

A hand grabbed his elbow. He whirled to find Reyna at his side; he hadn’t noticed her music ending.

“Canon, where’s Cadenza?”

“I don’t know.” He yanked his arm back. “Who do you think I’m looking for?”

Reyna’s jaw hardened and she pointed a finger in his face. “Don’t play with me, Richards. You’re cute, but not that cute. Someone has tried to kill my friend at least twice, two ofyoursecurity guys just took off with her, and she did not look happy about it. So where is she?”

Canon rushed down the corridor, trying more doors. Drostan had explained about the Silence, but Canon had thought Cadenza would be safe at his event. He was here, Reyna—a Guardian, even if that role was new—was here. Drostan’s othersons, also Guardians, were arriving and accompanying them home.

“Ididn’t tell the guards to do anything,” he said. “Someone else is working some angle.”

Reyna flung open a storage closet and checked behind a stack of boxes. “Well, who’s in charge of your security guys?”

Vasilios,Canon thought, cringing.

A spot of red fluttered in the air current of the A/C—a rose petal. Canon scooped it off the floor and tugged on the door closest to where the petal had lain. Locked. Reyna rose on tiptoes and peeked through the narrow window set near the top.

“What the—” She drew back and pressed her back to the wall beside the door. “Isn’t that your sponsor or something?”

Canon stole a look through the window. Betrayal coated his tongue, bitter and acrid.

Vasilios reclined in a metal folding chair in a large storage room, about fifteen feet from the door, facing away from them, a pistol with a silencer in one hand. Cadenza sat stiffly on a metal chair, wrists zip-tied together in her lap. The rest of the roses lay scattered on a table. Scratches ran where the thorns had carved trails through the dust.

Canon narrowed his eyes. “Fine. New game.”

“What?” Reyna asked.

“Nothing.”

“Fine.” She yanked up the hem of her dress and retrieved a pair of slender iron pins from a thigh holster.

“What are you doing?” Canon hissed.