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Atticus Scorpio really hadn’t been an impeccably engineered hologram. The man, in all his Black Panther-meets-Luther grandeur, had really shown up at the Brocade in his fine, fine suit and approached Reece with his wild, wild idea.

I’m still wearing half a smile of disbelief as my sister leans in with spare-no-details zeal. “Emmalina Paisley.”

“Whaaaat?” I tease back, clearly driving her nuts. But it’s an afternoon made for teasing. And happiness. And simply rejoicing in the moment. Oh, yes. Especially that part. If a moment is all we have, then that’s what we’ll damn well take.

We’re finally back at the ridge after the insanity of last week. We’ve decided to bunk the girls with Lux for now, though Reece has already commissioned blueprints for a new wing on the house with exclusive bedrooms for all three of them. Sawyer’s buddies are sprawled through all of the guest rooms and have had fun assisting “Folic Acid” in training Lux on his newfound abilities. The rest of the team are enjoying some well-deserved time off, and the girls of the “Bolt Bunny” squad have decided to do the same.

Which leads us right back to here. On an epic poolside day bed that fits all five of us—and the large tray to support our pitcher of sangria and glasses. In short, perfection.

“You are forbidden to leave us hanging there.” Yep, even when Lydia backs up her charge by snatching away my full glass of cranberry-colored wine. “No more for you until we hear the rest, missy!”

“Heeeyyy,” I cry. “There are laws against blackmail in this state, missy.”

“Don’t look at me.” Trixie shoots up both hands though dips one back down to get in a sip of the crimson nectar in her glass. “I definitely vote for your version of this over Reece’s. To him, three grunts and an ‘it was fine, Mom’ constitute filling me in about everything.”

That has me breaking into a new laugh—mostly because it’s true. My husband can light up a whole room with his charm and wit when he wants to, but only when he wants to. In business, whether it’s running the Richards kingdom, driving the RRO vision, or pulsing Team Bolt to greater destinations of do-gooding grandeur, he’s all about the mission goals and nothing but the mission goals.

Which circle my mind right back to the surreal scene from the Brocade’s lobby. And yes, the place in the plot where I left them all hanging on a jaw-dropping cliffie. Not intentionally, per se—though I have to admit, stringing Princess Purple Pants along like this has been more fun than parsing out the details about Brady Chadwick.

“All right, all right.” I even readjust my position, switching from my relaxed head-on-elbow lounge to a fully seated thing, my hands in my lap and my legs crossed at the ankle. “The bunnies deserve the whole hip-hoppity story.”

“But if you end it with Mr. McGregor chasing you guys out of the garden, I will be one pissed-off little rabbit.” Lydia adds an angry swig of sangria to her soft growl. I’m tempted to call her out for sangria abuse, but she’s in a sassy mood, likely due to Sawyer taking her off to bed early last night. Anytime Sawyer drags my sister off to bed, I have no idea what the woman will feel emboldened to do the next day. I want my beverage hostage returned unharmed.

“No Mr. McGregors, I promise.” I cant my head while watching a pair of hawks swoop over the hillside, riding the late-afternoon wind with their massive wingspans. “Though I have to admit, Atticus’s offer did feel like a shovel to the brain.”

“You don’t say.”

’Dia’s deadpan earns her a worthy snicker from Trixie before the woman looks my way once more. “Please tell me Reece had the presence of mind to give the man a good laugh at first.”

A smile warms my lips. “I’m pretty sure he was strongly tempted,” I relay. “I think there was even a comment about hidden cameras and the Consortium taking up video punking now that their hideout’s been wiped out.” I let the smile wane. “But Atticus was clearly serious about every word. He stuck to his standpoint.”

“Which must have been worthy of Reece’s admiration and irritation.”

Angelique’s remark has me abruptly looking away, only to confront Trixie’s knowing nod of understanding. It’s three seconds that makes a huge difference. As thoroughly as I’ve come to love Angie, there’s a tiny box of resentment in my heart about the past she shares with Reece and the things she knows about him because of it.

“Yeah. That’s about right.” I barely strain the snip from my tone before murmuring it. “But he finally took the man at his word, at least long enough to ask him why the Scorpios are ready to place such a public offer on Faline’s demise.”

“Demise.” Lydia only says it once out loud, though it’s clear she’s mentally rolling the word around several more times. “That’s exactly what Atticus said? ‘Demise’?”

“No,” I reply. “His exact term was that the Scorpios want her taken out.”

“So what does that mean?” Neeta inserts. “Do they want her killed or simply destroyed?”

“They likely don’t care,” Trixie states. “As long as the woman is fully separated from them and the Consortium.”

“Which essentially doesn’t exist any longer anyway,” I fill in. “Especially after Reece and I had a chance to fill the man in on the full extent of the Consortium’s experiments and procedures.”

Lydia sits up higher while openly scoffing. She hangs on to her finishing grimace. “Okay, back up that drug-smuggling canoe, sparky. Are you honestly telling me that sexy boy Scorpio told both of you that he had no idea what those freaky Frankensteins were doing down in that lab? Even after they A-okayed the procedures and then snuggled in their beds with visions of super soldiers dancing in their heads?”

“No back-rowing necessary,” I state. “Believe me, every upper-level Scorpio boss, as well as his or her lieutenants, knew exactly what they agreed to let the Consortium do—at the beginning.”

“And what the hell does that mean?” ’Dia demands.

“Exactly what it implies,” I return. “That the Consortium’s scientists laid out exactly what the protocol was going to be for their ‘unconventional experimentation,’ designed with the goal of ‘expanding the possibilities of human DNA.’”

Trixie frowns before prompting, “And if superpowers were the outcome of all that…”

“Never occurred to anyone that they would be,” I fill in.