XXXIX

ten years ago

Blair wove her fingers through the high grass, silky seed tufts tickling her palms. This was her favorite time of day, when night pressed against the sky and the evergreens stood like shadowed guardians along the streets of suburban Westfall. The trees reminded her of their father. They reminded her of home.

“What are we doing out here?” Her little brother was only a head taller than the gently dancing grass. His beautiful dark skin glowed charcoal in the moonlight. “Cath will be worried if she goes into our rooms and we’re gone.”

Blair rolled her eyes. “Oh, Cath, smath,” she mocked, with a flourish of her hand. The same kind of flourish, albeit a smidge exaggerated, that Cath did every time she lost her train of thought, which, as far as Blair could tell, was at least thirty times per day.

Denny laughed. A sound like bells chiming. And it was the best sound in the entire world.

“But for real, Blair,” he said between giggles. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”

She slipped on a sly smile and cocked her head. “Don’t tell me Big Denny Man is scared of a little tall grass and the dark.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his chin defiantly. “I’m not scared of anything.”

Oh, but little Denny had so much to fear. The Key could only protect its citizens so much. She and her brother had learned that the hard way. Denny was lucky he didn’t have to rely on the corporation for safety. He had Blair. And she would spend her life keeping him safe.

Blair bent down, level with the young boy’s sweet expression. “You know I’ll always protect you, right?”

Denny’s gaze dropped and he nodded slightly before looking back up at her, his eyes big and round and sparkling just as they had the day he was born.

The best day of Blair’s life.

His eyes fell from hers. “I wish Momma and Daddy were still here.” He was retreating, curling in on himself in that way he did when he thought about their parents and that monster that had eviscerated their mother and left their father in a lifeless pile on the kitchen floor.

Blair plucked a long blade of grass and brushed the soft tip against his cheek. “It’s a lunar eclipse. I was going to tell you when we got to the clearing but—”

Denny stole the blade and lifted himself onto his toes. “Total? Partial? Penumbral?” The questions raced from him, each one punctuated by a swish of the grass. “What kind? What kind?” He saved her from guessing and took off toward the clearing before she had a chance to answer. Astronomy didn’t interest her, but Denny loved it. Denny loved their father and their father loved—had loved—astronomy.

“You’re gonna miss it!” Denny shouted.

Blair sped up, her boots sinking into the soggy ground as she reached the last row of trees framing the open space. Pine needles tugged at her tight curls and snared her shirt as she shuffled and twisted through the line of trees, their branches woven together like cloth. She’d read somewhere that Aspens were all connected underground. One living thing spanning acres and acres, sprouting up through the earth like hair. There was something to be learned from the power in that. The power of a single thing that made a forest.

A small rush of air slipped through Denny’s parted lips. “Penumbral.” He sighed wistfully, his chin tilted toward the darkly shaded moon. “Isn’t it the best?”

Blair had rushed Denny through the house and into the backyard that night, months earlier when they’d lost their parents, their peace. She’d talked about the moon and how bright it was. How he had to look up even through the house. That if he looked hard enough, the light would shine through the roof. She didn’t want him to know why his feet were wet. Why he slipped on the tile. Why they left behind red footprints.

Tears pricked her eyes. She shook her head slightly, willing them away. “I love you, Aiden.”

He tore his gaze away from the sky to smile up at her. “Love you too, B.”

Sunlight glinted off Blair’s black desk, burning through her memories and leaving behind nothing but spots.

Something had happened to her brother. Something she’d missed. She’d given Aiden too much space to grow, trusted too many other people to keep him safe, and now her perfect boy was tainted. But Blair would fix it. She was the only one who could.

Blair pushed away from her desk, wincing as her fingertips made contact with the glinting onyx. She held her hands up in the thick bands of sunlight from the window. Each fingertip was raw pink, her nails chewed to stumps so short she’d made her nailbeds bleed.

How dare Darby pass sentence on a Scott. This was almost too much for her. But Blair was a fortress, an Aspen grove. Too bad Aiden couldn’t be as strong.

What had happened to her brother? That innocent boy who ran to her when things were tough and times were bad? Now Blair had learned that he’d found a new girl to go to when he had nowhere else to turn.

Elodie.

Blair’s teeth creaked with the tight clench of her jaw.

Compared to Blair, that girl had nothing. Was nothing. And the Council would make sure that her future was as empty as her past. The Key, the only thing Blair could trust besides herself, would save her brother from that scheming brat. Then Blair would deal with Darby’s sentence.

None of it had been Aiden’s fault. Blair was certain of that. He didn’t know any better. How could he? They hadn’t been raised in a traditional home with traditional rules. Sure, Cath was successful and kind, but she wasn’t their mother. Not really. The misfortune that had made Blair stronger hadn’t done the same for poor Denny. It had untethered him from what was important and made him an easy target for manipulation. This girl had seen that in him and used it to her advantage.

The office door hissed open and Maxine’s determined footsteps clicked against the stained concrete floor. “I thought you might like these.”

Blair lifted a pale blue rectangular box from Maxine’s upturned palm and opened the lid.

“They’re a prototype,” Maxine explained while Blair removed the clear, paper-thin gloves from the box. “From the same lab that designs the skins for the caretaker bots.”

The inside of the gloves was cold jelly that seemed to melt the second each finger slid into place. A sound like the release of steam and then a sharp prick on the back of each hand. Before Blair could protest, the gloves lifted like the scales of a pinecone before settling back against her skin. She could no longer differentiate the thin silicone from her own flesh. Or was it really hers anymore? Blair again brought her hands to the light. No crescents of red rimmed the tips of too short nails. Her nails were back, unpainted, unbuffed, but back. She turned her hands over and traced the thin creases in her palms. Her sense of touch was muted, but the image was perfection.

Maxine’s shadow broke through Blair’s awe. “Good as new.”

Holly materialized in front of Blair’s onyx desk. “Hello, Ms. Scott. Maxine requested I notify you when your visitor arrived.” The similarities between Blair’s own voice and Holly’s was a constant reminder of her growing hold on Westfall.

With a huff, Maxine shook out her short hair and pressed her lips into a thin line.

“Maxine, before we welcome our guest, is there any more information about this elusive Echo person I knew nothing about?” Blair ground her teeth together. “A fact, I’m sure, Major Owens found quite pleasing.”

Maxine sucked in her cheeks. “If I found something out, I would have told you.”

Blair turned back to the window. “Then, show him in,” she said, staring through her reflection at the city beneath.

Rhett’s footsteps were louder than most employees’. Louder than they needed to be. As if his sharp cologne and the way the air went stiff and tense around him weren’t enough to signal his arrival. How could this soldier ever sneak up on anyone? Then again, the stealthy ones weren’t splashed across ads and featured in news stories. And that, she knew, was what Major Rhett Owens wanted more than anything. To be someone.

Blair shifted her attention to the Major’s reflection as he removed his red dress cap and clasped it in front of him. “My men will have your brother to you by the end of the night. They’re close to finding him.”

“And the girl?” Blair sneered. Jealousy twisted her brow and burned hot against her tongue.

Rhett said nothing, his reflection stiffening almost imperceptibly.

Blair turned with liquid grace. “Major Owens—”

“Yes.” Rhett bit out the word in a strangled grunt, his hands twisting his red Key cap.

Blair drifted like a feather into the seat next to the towering Major and motioned to the empty chair next to her. “Please, sit.” She wet her lips. “And tell me what you know about Elodie Benavidez.”

The name seemed to grip Rhett by the throat. Each corded muscle popped against his neck as he moved across the office. “We are matched.”

Maxine sucked in a breath, her lips forming that distinct O as she waited for the salacious details of Rhett’s tarnished romance.

The corner of Blair’s mouth itched with a grin. It wasn’t Rhett’s pain that made her feel better, but the fact that this little girl wasn’t ruining Blair’s life alone. Misery loves company, and all that. “And you know the details of their . . . impropriety?”

“Impropriety?” Rhett snorted. “It’s disgusting what they did. Barbaric!”

The hairs on the back of Blair’s neck rose. “Rhett.” She tented her new fingertips beneath her chin as he sat beside her. “We are so much alike, you and I. We overestimate those around us. We expect in them the same traits that we possess. After all, it shouldn’t be difficult to follow the path laid out before you. We did. And look at us now.” Her sweeping gesture took in the marvelous expanse of her office. “In control. In power. But others, those we love . . .” Blair paused an extra breath to study Rhett, but he didn’t waver. “Those we care for . . .” Another pause. Another impenetrable wall. “Those we possess . . .”

Rhett’s fists tightened around his cap.

Blair clasped her hands and rested them against her knees. “I am not surprised this happened.”

Rhett’s brow creased. “Then you know something I don’t.”

“I know my brother. What I do not know, however, is how you were completely unaware that your match is such a trifling . . .” Blair twirled the air around her fingertips.

Maxine tilted her head. “Siren?” she chimed.

Oh, little monster. “Ah, yes.” Blair nodded. “A word straight out of the history books.”

Rhett shifted uncomfortably. “Now, I wouldn’t go that far. Elodie has never seemed—”

Blair held up her hand. “Major Owens, most people are not how they seem. In your line of work, I’m sure you battle against that quite often.”

Rhett puffed. “Who’s to say you don’t have it backward? That your brother—”

“I know him better than he knows himself!” With a deep inhale, Blair packed her rage back down her throat. “Do you not remember that I brought you here to guide him down the right path? Clearly, he is easily manipulated. I will give your vermin of a fiancée that much credit. She chose wisely.”

Whatever Rhett was going to say, he’d channeled it into the cap he continued to twist in his hands.

Blair stood. She needed more space in her chest, more room for her lungs to expand and breathe, not to catch and quiver. She pursed her lips and dusted non-existent lint from her black pencil skirt “The next time I see you, you’ll have my brother and that girl.”

Rhett nodded and stood.

“And, Major Owens, I don’t need to remind you that this matter is to be handled discretely.” Blair dragged her new nails along the stone as she rounded her desk.

With a tight nod, Rhett smoothed out his cap and tented it against his white blond hair.

Blair gripped the back of her throne to keep from keeling over. Aiden was tearing her apart.

Maxine cleared her throat, widened her eyes, and pointed her chin in the Major’s direction.

Blair bit the inside of her cheek. She needed to focus. She’d almost made a mistake. Men like Rhett Owens didn’t like to be bossed. They liked control. They liked rewards. “Major Owens, this matter is personal and, I’m sure, affects you deeply. Know that after the dust has settled, I will make sure you are matched to a worthy woman. One of your choosing.”

Rhett’s Adam’s apple bobbed with a thick swallow.

“Elodie.” Blair scraped the tip of her tongue along her teeth. Just saying the girl’s name left a bad taste in her mouth. “She did this to us all. And I trust you will help me right all her wrongs.”

Rhett stood. “I would like nothing more.”

Blair forced a smile as Maxine escorted Major Owens out.

The moment the door hissed shut Blair slid down the back of the velvet chair, dropping to the floor like a stone. Her body heaved and tightened, heaved and tightened. But no sick came up. The revelations about what the girl had done to her brother had already cleaned her out, leaving room for nothing except rage.

“Elodie!” Blair screeched. “I’m going to murder that bitch with my own hands! I’ll kill them all for what they’ve done to him!”

Maxine was back in an instant, shutting the door behind her, mirroring Blair’s posture, her fingers digging into the plush rug with the same white-knuckle ferocity as Blair. “You will deal with them. We will deal with them. But not like this.”

Blair lifted her head and blinked through the swirl of tears.

Maxine’s teeth clenched and her eyes narrowed savagely. “You are better than this,” she growled. “Stronger than this. Stronger than them.”

Maxine was right. Blair was no petulant child or stay-at-home wife. She was the definition of resourcefulness and determination. Despite this oversight regarding her brother, this one oversight. Her knuckles popped as she released her grip and settled against her heels. Blair had nearly forgotten who she was.

Her gaze swung around the room, taking in the tangible evidence of everything she’d achieved, before finally settling on the wall of windows. The rain had started up again and it slid down the glass like tears.

The first tears of many, she thought, her lips twisting into a sneer.

Blair fluffed the curls framing her face and dabbed at the moisture on her cheeks. “Maxine,” she said with a final sniffle, “be a dear and fetch me a gun.”