Goddamn it, stop!

Guy had bustled me from the war room while they planned the strike against the Cabal. I presumed that meant he didn’t trust me yet, but I’d be naive if I wasn’t considering the possibility that they knew I was a spy.

If he suspected, though, he wasn’t doing a very good job of imprisoning me. Max hadn’t activated the storeroom lock. I’d detected only a security spell across the doorway, which would warn them if I left.

As for why Guy picked this room, I wondered whether he knew more about Expisco half-demons than he’d let on. Being here, with such a strong source of chaos nearby, prevented me from listening in to their distant thoughts and conversation.

I’d now watched Bianca die twenty-one times, and no matter how hard I fought, the ending was always the same. The bullet hit and I gasped, struck by a bolt of indescribably delicious chaos.

This last time, the gasp was more a mewl, my overstimulated nerves protesting, my body shaking with exhaustion. But that didn’t block the charge of pleasure—or the wave of self-loathing. And, finally the questions.

I’d known she was in trouble and hurried into the back hall to help. Had I tried hard enough? Had I run fast enough? I’d seen her killer raise the gun and I’d stopped running, hit by the chaos wave. As the scene replayed, that split-second of inaction seemed to stretch into long minutes, during which I stood in that hall, doing nothing, overwhelmed by the chaos.

“—need to strike at—” Tony’s voice in my head, penetrating the chaos fog.

I strained to hear more. I needed to focus on finding out what they were planning so I could warn Benicio.

But should I warn him? It looked as if he’d kidnapped Jaz and Sonny, and had Bianca killed. What obligation did I have to tell him anything? I didn’t have enough information, didn’t know who was really the aggressor and who the defender. That’s why Karl had insisted on letting Lucas decide our next move. Whatever allegiance Lucas felt to his family, his allegiance to truth was greater.

“—I just don’t think—”

“—then walk away—”

I strained to pick up more, but the chaos ebbed and surged as the gang members’ moods veered between grief-fueled outrage and anxiety over whatever they were planning.

“—get past security—”

“—trust me—”

Were they going to break in somewhere?

“—will be the toughest—”

“—once in, though—-”

The room wobbled, then went black. The gun rose—

Not now! I pressed my hands against my eyes, but the images kept flashing. I couldn’t stay here. If I was going to figure out what was happening, I needed to—

As the bullet struck Bianca, my cell phone beeped, warning me of an incoming message. Had I not been clutching it, I’d never have noticed.

I fumbled with the phone and let out a whoosh of relief as I saw Karl’s number. It was a simple “I’m back”

message. I responded by sending the one I’d pretyped, explaining the situation in the most succinct, least alarming language.

Ten seconds later, my phone rang.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Karl blasted before I could say hello. “Get out of that room now, Hope. Goddamn it, I can’t believe you’re sitting there—”

“I’m not sitting here,” I hissed under my breath. “I’m doing my job. If I leave this room, my cover’s blown—”

“Blow it! For all you know, they’re figuring out how to kill you.”

“Then why leave me without a barrier spell to keep me in? They—”

“You can’t take the chance. Get out of there or I’ll—”

“Stop yelling and listen, Karl. The gang is planning a break-in. They’re in the same room I was in yesterday. When you get here, you can eavesdrop. Find out what’s happening.”

He paused, then asked, calmer, “Where are you? In case I need to find you.”

“The room Bianca was killed in.”

“Get out of there, Hope. You—”

“I need to learn how to handle it.”

He let out a string of curses and let me know what he thought of me torturing myself in the name of Expisco education. After a moment, he said, “If anyone comes to get you, hit the panic button. I don’t care if you think they’re bringing you coffee and doughnuts, hit that button. If it’s nothing, I’ll slip away and no one will be the wiser. But you will hit that button.”

“I will.”

LUCAS: 6

AT SIX-THIRTY I walked into Cortez Cabal headquarters. There was no question that my father would still be there. For him, the day didn’t end for another hour or so. That was a lesson he’d taught me—that if you expect your employees to work nine to five, and your executives eight to six, then, as CEO, you need to be there even longer. Whatever my father’s faults, he treats everyone from the janitors to the board of directors with consideration and respect…at least when he doesn’t need them tortured, maimed or executed.

I hadn’t notified my father of my arrival…or that I was coming to Miami at all. I wanted to see his reaction without giving him time to prepare his defense. I do not enjoy the subterfuge. I can’t say the same for him.

The lobby doors had barely shut behind me before a receptionist and a guard flanked me. Did I need a cab driver paid? A car taken to the executive lot? A coffee? A cold drink perhaps—it was quite warm today. Was I here to see my father? Was there anyone else they could call for me? Would I like a member of the clerical staff on hand for my visit?

Paige urges me to find the humor in this, and it is almost sublimely ridiculous. But I can’t laugh it off—at the root of it is my father’s biggest machination, his grandest scheme: naming me heir.

By naming as his successor the only son who does not want the job, he ensures peace among my three brothers, and safety for himself. The latter says something about his relationship with them—and the real possibility that they would commit patricide to hasten their inheritance. It is a truth my father recognizes. Name me heir, and my brothers must stay their hands and work hard, hoping to persuade the board of directors that they would run the company successfully, should the board wish to exercise its influence on my father and convince him to change his inheritance plans.