Page 80 of The Next Lie

“This meant one thing and one thing only—complete, unswerving loyalty to the Syndicate. You fail the Syndicate, you pay with blood. It was the reason, I’m sure, your family was being punished. With me so far?”

She nods.

“The assignment was to kill your father. Kill one child. Retrieve one child. Ensure the house burned. The assignment did not exactly go as it was supposed to.”

I smile grimly. “Mainly because I made sure that it didn’t. I’m not a child-killer, Reva. The others weren’t either, and they broke ties with the Syndicate because they refused to wear the rosary on their arms and take the risk they’d be sent on a similar assignment. I was already in too deep, and I had to work a little harder, be a little sneakier about things.”

“You…someone did kill a child, though. Delia’s friend was there that night, and she was killed?”

A stab of sadness pierces me. “Yes. One of the other Syndicate men killed her before I could prevent it. He’s the one who killed your father, as well. I killed him before he could find and kill you, made it look like the cops got him, and then made it look as though that little girl was you, Reva. And then I made damn sure Cal was able to get to you and adopt you as soon as it could be arranged. It was all I could do.”

Reva taps a finger against her bottom lip. “And you had to take Delia back with you to the Syndicate…”

“Exactly. I had to choose how to best protect both of you.”

Her eyes close. When they open, something in them has gone very quiet. That is the part I do not like.

Her rage I can handle. Her teeth. Her insults. Her reckless little stunts with weaponized fruit. The quiet is what people fall into when the floor beneath their feet disappears.

I reach for her. She slaps my hand away.

“Do not.”

I stop.

“You said you would have left me alone if I stayed in Chicago.”

“I would have tried. You make it difficult.”

Her laugh breaks this time. “That is such a non-answer. And now?” she asks.

“Now you are here.”

“Brilliant observation.”

“Now the people who wanted you gone know you are not.”

Her throat works.

“Now Delia has seen you. Nash has claimed you. Cal is rattled. Mother Superior’s old assignment is breathing again.” I step closer. “Now every buried thing in this city is starting to turn over.”

Her voice drops. “And you?”

I look at her mouth. That’s a mistake. Then at her eyes. That’s an even worse one.

“Now,” I say, “you are mine.”

She stares at me. Then she shakes her head once. Slowly.

“No, I am not.”

“You are.”

“No.” Her voice rises. “I am not yours. I am not Nash’s. I am not Ever’s. I am not Shiloh’s. I am not Cal’s kept secret or Delia’s dead sister or some unfinished assignment with legs. I am not property, Deacon.”

“No,” I say.

Her chest heaves.