We pass the building that I know is the school, but there’s not a sound coming from it. No crying, no teaching. No slapping. Nothing I could recognize. We might as well be walking through a ghost town except for the smoke that rises from some of the chimneys, preparing for dinner.
We come to a stop at the end of the lane.
“Reverence Hall,” I manage to say past the lump in my throat.
That’s a fancy name that means Leader Allen’s house. It’s the nicest one on Harmony Hills, naturally, with central air and real floors. I think the word reverence is supposed to be about revering God, but I’m not sure if I ever believed that, even when I lived here. It’s about revering Leader Allen, who has so much more than his followers. His wealth is a sign that he lives without sin, which is kind of ironic, since Ivan’s wealth means the opposite.
I want to take Ivan’s hand. I’m shaking at the thought of entering this house again. Of being that girl again. His posture doesn’t invite me to touch him. And he made me promise not to talk once we got inside. He’s completely remote from me—part businessman, part criminal. Part avenging angel on behalf of the Grand.
Ivan nods, and Luca steps forward and knocks.
The door opens.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sarah Elizabeth is a year younger than me—I remember her from the schoolroom—but her face is drawn and her doe-like eyes hold an infinite sadness. She looks like she’s seen too much, a lifetime of awful things, even though I know she wouldn’t be allowed to leave Harmony Hills. She’s only seen the same buildings, the same people, who have always been here. I’m the one who’s been into the world, who’s seen the darker, seedy side of humanity, but I feel almost like Pippi Longstocking next to her.
She frowns at me, surprise and dismay warring in her face, and frowns even more at Ivan.
As soon as she sees Luca, her eyes widen. When she notices his holster, which he isn’t making any effort to hide, along with a sinister-looking silver briefcase, she shuts down completely. Any thought or feeling vanishes from her expression, leaving
only the glassy-eyed stare of a doll.
“This way,” she says, barely a whisper.
She turns away, shoulders hunched under her beige shift.
Ivan and Luca exchange a look. I can read their opinion loud and clear—they think it’s fucked up, how docile she is, how blank. Well, so do I. Sarah Elizabeth might even agree.
They don’t understand. They can’t understand what it’s like to grow up with Leader Allen’s presence, with his judgment, with his touch.
We follow Sarah Elizabeth deep into the house.
Leader Allen is already seated behind his desk when we arrive. Sarah Elizabeth stands just beside the door, outside the room, and I know that is no mistake. She isn’t allowed in without his express permission. Even when she is serving him, she cannot presume to enter his presence.
Ivan, of course, presumes. He strides inside the large room as if he owns it. His clinical gaze takes in the old volumes and yellowed pages—and dismisses them just as quickly.
For his part, Leader Allen looks shrewd and wary—and very, very old. I hadn’t realized quite how old he was. Or maybe I had, but in my mind that lent him authority. Now he looks the kind of old that’s tired, close to death but fighting it every step of the way. His hair has gone from peppered brown to gray. His skin is faintly discolored in places, stretched grotesquely in others. Only his eyes are exactly how I remember them, cunning and cruel.
He doesn’t stand when we enter. I suppose that’s a show of power, telling us we don’t deserve respect. He doesn’t look particularly afraid, either, even though Ivan and Luca make an imposing pair.
“I suppose you know who I am,” Ivan says in a businesslike tone. “If Rosalie Toussaint’s lawyer knew where to find her daughter, then you do too. And you know who she works for.”
Leader Allen’s gaze snaps to me, and his lip curls. “I always knew you had the devil in you, girl.”
Ivan gestures to Luca, who sets down the briefcase with a loud thunk. It hadn’t seemed heavy when he carried it, but there’s clearly something substantial in it. What are they bringing him? Money? No, Ivan would never cave that quickly. And besides, even large stacks of cash wouldn’t be that heavy. Guns? I’m not sure how heavy they would be, but Ivan would be more likely to point one at Leader Allen than show him one in a suitcase.
“You don’t speak to her,” Ivan says softly. “She is not yours. She will never be yours.”
Leader Allen’s eyes widen in rage, and I think he’s about to stand up. But then he settles back in his chair with a leer for me. “Why?” he says, clearly speaking to Ivan. “You’ve had her for three years. Surely you’re tired of her now.”
My own anger starts to churn. Of course he’s assuming that Ivan has been fucking me all along. He assumes that because he wanted to fuck me. And the idea that I would return here, ever, even if Ivan didn’t want me anymore… Oh, hell no.
I open my mouth to say something—but Ivan puts up his hand, stopping me.
Years have passed. I’m not a child anymore; I’m a grown woman. But I’m still listening to men boss me around. My face burns. He doesn’t own me. And neither do you.
To disobey him, to disrespect him that way, would put him at a disadvantage to Leader Allen. That’s the only reason I don’t say anything. At least, that’s what I tell myself.