Chapter Three
Alex
The boathouse looms ahead, a structure largely degraded by weather and age, yet standing nonetheless. Dilapidated boards guard the entrance and lead into a docking area that’s now dried up. The smell of the lake still permeates the soil, an earthy musk that invades just about every molecule I inhale as I ascend the rickety stairs.
It’s hard to sneak up on people in a place like this. Every movement is captured by a creak or a whine, signaling my approach. My sneakers connect with the second floor and then the third, leading to the top left loft where the boys are standing in a scattered pattern. Each of them hovers near the rail—and each of them is holding something.
“Hi, baby doll,” Tomas greets. He’s the first to reach for me, pressing his forehead to mine. “We sent word that the boathouse is off-limits today so we can meet. Let me see the card.”
My eyebrows twitch when I notice the card in his fingers. I take it from him, gladly handing over the one I was given last night.
“What you treasure, I will trash,” I read from his card. I frown as I glance up at his taut features. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Possibly Addie,” he whispers. “But who fucking knows?” Despite his even tone, I can tell by the way he plays with his lip ring that this is wracking his brain as much as it is mine. His hazel-brown eyes land on me and then his features relax slightly, returning to the same angelic demeanor he wears with me in private. “The others got cards too.”
My fingers tremble as I reach for the sleeve of his hoodie. “I want to see them.”
Lev steps forward with his hands in his pockets. “Mine says, ‘Walk, don’t run. Why die tired?’”
Confused, I reach for Parker, who hands me his card without argument. The movement is so fluid and agreeable that I almost don’t catch how very unlike Parker it is for him to act that way.
“Sins of the father,” I read. “Paid by the son.” I shudder when Soren flashes me his card, which reads, “Cheap bullet. Long drop. Same destination.”
With a hard frown, I gather our cards together and set them out on a nearby table. When I draw Evelyn’s card from my pocket, Lev touches my elbow. It’s a light and gentle touch, one that conveys more concern than I’m used to feeling from him.
His voice rumbles with apprehension. “And you’re positive you didn’t get hurt?”
I chuckle. “Do I look like I’m hurt, Lev?”
His eyes betray every possible answer. And all of them say that he needs me to reassure him that I’m fine.
I sigh. “I’m fine. I promise.”
Hesitation echoes from his fingertips before they drift away. When I return my attention to the cards in front of me, I point to Evelyn’s. All four men fall quiet.
“Only the offspring of the major Macedon families have received a card,” I point out. “I suspect that Evelyn might…” The words dance on the tip of my tongue, jumping at the chance to taste oxygen. With a deep sigh, I say, “I suspect she’s my half sister.”
A hand joins my shoulder. It’s Soren’s scent that comes with it—warm spice—and it feels strange to accept his comfort outside of the public eye.
But then again, maybe all this is a performance too. For his friends. For me.
“If she is my half sister, then she’s in trouble too,” I say. “So, what the hell do we do?”
“There’s not much to do if we don’t know who left these cards,” Lev states. “My brother got a card too.”
I turn to look at him. “What does it say?”
“Play like men. Die like boys.”
I hum curiously. “We’re getting targeted for something. Is it just because we’re the children of the main families?”
“It’s not like we have super-secret insider knowledge,” Soren says while gesturing around the loft. “We know as much as our parents tell us.”
I snort. “You’re telling me.”
“Maybe it’s more to get a rise,” Lev supposes. “It could be someone from one of our families.”
“See, I thought it might have been Amos, but…” I trail off, shaking my head when Lev gives me an inquisitive glance. “Too dense. Too tall.”