Page 134 of Gravehouse

Amélie walks past her and puts a silver case on the dining table. “Plain English tends to upset people.”

Luce follows, muttering, “Your existence upsets me.”

Amélie flips the latches. Inside sits a slim black terminal, three encrypted drives, and enough illegal hardware to get a normal person buried under federal charges.

Punk drags her chair beside Amélie, flipping her laptop open again, teal hair slipping from beneath her beanie as she leans over the case. “You built a closed relay?”

“I built six,”Amélie answers, connecting a cable to Punk’s laptop. “Emeric knows the first four.”

Luce gives her another hard look. “Gold star for motherhood.”

Amélie’s hand stalls over the keyboard.

Punk clears her throat, sliding a drive into place. “I’m going to act like we’re not one insult away from becoming a crime scene.”

The front door bangs open, blowing snow across the entry tiles.

Khloe storms inside with ice stuck to her lashes, kicking the door shut behind her. “Still no tracks past what we know. The wind’s filling everything.”

My chair hits the floor. “Where did you look?”

“Tree line, springs, ridge, eastern access road.” Khloe digs into her coat, pulling out a phone. “Found this, though.”

She tosses it.

I catch Ivy’s phone against my chest.

Snow packs the cracked corner of the case. Her lock screen stays black when I press the button, and a thin smear of blood marks the volume switch. Mine, hers, anyone’s. Every answer ends with me killing someone.

“Where exactly?” I ask, turning the phone over.

Khloe strips off one glove with her teeth. “Fifty yards into the forest, screen down.”

“So she dropped it while running,” Atlas says from behind me.

Khloe shakes her head. “Her footprints stop after that point. There was some blood...”

Leon rises from the sofa. “We’re on a timer.”

I lift my eyes to him, closing my fist around Ivy’s phone.

Leon looks across the room. “If Emeric has her, we’re all dead if he unleashes her. Ivy won’t hesitate, and no amount ofles amants mauditsis gonna change that.”

Yeah. I’m beginning to think he’s right.

CHAPTER

THIRTY

ASHER

Glocks decoratemy dining room for the second day. Two fucking days and we’ve heard nothing, which tells us everything. She’s with Emeric. Whosheis now is anyone’s guess, if we go by what Leon’s been spitting about Emeric triggering her bride-of-death side.

Punk hasn’t eaten. Nobody has, much less showered, and I’m about three side-eyes from Khloe away from ripping this island apart with my bare hands. Fuck my ancestors, duty, and anyone who gets in my way.

It’s as good a time as any, since Atlas has killed my Macallan. The fact that he chose my most expensive bottle tells me he wanted to make this my problem too. At least he’s reached the quiet, philosophical stage of drunk, which in Atlas means depressed and useless. One less person I’d have to punch through if I do decide to go rogue.

“Move the handoff to relay three,” Amélie says, not looking up.