Chapter 77

Chapter 77

Brooklyn

The next day, I go down to the kitchen in my riding clothes and wait.

And wait.

I have my breakfast with Hudson, waving him off as he goes to class, and then have about four more tiny cups of espresso as I wait some more.

I'm practically buzzing when Aden finally deigns to come into the room, which is, as usual, busy with activity.

My body responds to his presence, practically reaching toward him, but he doesn't even look at me as he sweeps through the room, then heading to the back corner, where the older captains sit.

He joins them, and they consult for a while, making plans for whatever their next move is.

I grit my teeth, realizing that I'm going to have to wait a little longer.

Forty-five minutes later, Aden walks swiftly past me, headed for the door.

Pissed-I know he saw me sitting here, I know he's doing this on purpose-I stand up and call after him. "Aden!"

He stops in his tracks and then slowly turns to look at me, an eyebrow raised.

Otherwise, though, his body gives no indication of what he's thinking or feeling.

"Can I get a ride, please?" I ask. "To the stables?"

Aden's eyes flick over me.

"No time today," he says as he pushes through the door. "Maybe tomorrow. If I'm feeling generous."

the door as

is my

get changed, opting for

onto my bed. I sigh, glancing over at my books, but not wanting to read

like this when I really miss Jayde. She was always

with my

where she is now.

strange, realizing someone you'd come to love is your biological family

perhaps because I am

found useful already in this mafia

wonder, too, if she was also giving me hints about how to defy Aden. Considering that she

whole time

was preparing me to

pale a little at the idea,

father, the true real powers at play here? Whose side am I on?

who showed me, first, that there's more to this house than meets the eye. And that if I'm sneaky, I can find some really interesting and

wicked little smile crosses my

won't keep me out of trouble by taking me to visit my

on my slippers, and head

both ways, realizing that I know very

Hudson's room. Beyond that is the room that Jayde used, and then some other

blink, realizing that I have no idea

wonder if he hangs from the rafters like some kind of evil bat. That would suit his personality, for sure. Thinking of the rafters, though,

asked Jayde once where they went, but she had dismissed the question off-hand, telling me

now,

heirlooms and photo albums were kept downstairs in that little room in

for any evidence of prying eyes and

an ugly brown plywood door, its shabby material clearly at odds with the fine woodworking in

was installed

out a hand, firmly grasping the round knob, and give it

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