Page 88 of The Vixen

I stand with her as she collects her pants and pulls them on with over-the-top concentration, her hair draping her face as she surveys the black material.

“It’s late, Dreg,” she says as she straightens her sweater. She picks up her jacket and folds it over her arms. “Shut the computer down and get some sleep.”

When she goes to leave, my hand reaches for her arm—reflexive, involuntary. I don’t know what I want until she turns toward me with her face bathed in the warm glow of the lamp, long pigmentless eyelashes casting slivers of shadow on her eyelids.

I cup her chin and press my lips to hers. She pulls back, eyes wide.

“Good night, Luna.”

CHAPTER 22

LUNA

FOUR DAYS LATER

I’m sending you coordinates. Arrive at exactly 7PM. Our people will escort you the rest of the way.

I hit send on the email and lean back in my chair, tension loosening in my neck. I don’t take my eyes off the computer screen in the three minutes it takes for my inbox to chime.

See you soon.

He signs his nameMr. Aand leaves it at that. That’s been his style ever since he reached out three days ago. Short, quick replies. Can’t even be bothered to spell out his name.

Father will love him.

My fingers stretch out over my armrests as I relax into my seat and allow myself a brief moment of reprieve.

I’ve done it.

This morning, a Mr. Andre A. Sanchez deposited one hundred million dollars into my Swiss bank account.Onehundredmillion dollars—only the quarter of wealth required to step foot onto Shadow Sanctum property. If he chooses to stay, it’ll be another hundred million. And once fully initiated…

This one initiate will bring in four hundred million dollars.

But the best part. Theverybest part…

There are no rape charges against him. No criminal charges of any kind.

He’s a Cambridge-educated businessman with no wife, no kids, no family to speak of, and all he wants,according to him, is a place to belong. To put it simply, he’s lonely and tired.

The Shadow Sanctum came on his radar during a summer trip to New York when he broke away from board meetings and the sinful nature of the city to a small farm community only an hour from here. Unsurprisingly, they spoke highly of us—I pay them a commission for spreading the word to his type—and over a year later, he’s ready to take the plunge.

He could not have chosen a better time.

A knock on the door pulls my attention from the computer. I wait a moment for Thorne to walk through—Father never knocks—but when he doesn’t step inside, I clear the cobwebs from my throat. It’s times like these that it hits me how thoroughly I’ve been engrossed in this work.

“Who is it?”

“Aiden, Your Grace. Forgive my interruption, but the patrols are awaiting their schedule.”

My eyes sting as I blink, lids feeling stiff.

He’s here now? But it’s only… I turn back to my computer to note the time, but the dim lighting cutting past the curtain tells me the day has slipped to dusk faster than I realized. It’s already six. The Keepers expect the schedule by five at the latest.

I open the desk drawer and lift the paper with the schedule out, my neat handwriting carefully chronicling their rounds in a beautifully chaotic fashion. If Sawyer is trying to pinpoint apattern in the Keep’s security—which, of course he is—he won’t get far.

Aiden is standing tall and statuesque when I open the door, the paper outstretched toward him. He takes it and looks it over as he always does, but this time, I spot an uncharacteristic frown.

“Something wrong?” I ask with a tone colder than it should be. My voice hasn’t had a chance to warm up.