The Conspiracy of Us (The Conspiracy of Us 1)

“That would be the simplified version, yes. And now you understand why you have to come to the Saxons. You’ll be safe there.” He started to open the door again.

“I don’t think I want to go to them,” I said to my own reflection in the mirror.

Jack rubbed his temples. “I have to take you to them. There is no scenario in which anything else would be a good idea, for anyone. You don’t understand everything at play here.”

I understood that all this time, my mom and I were literally on the run for our lives. For my life. Add that now I’d put myself back in the crosshairs of the people we were running from and a powerful group who wanted to use me.

There was one thing I had to ask. “So are you saying my father was not a Saxon?”

“Not was. Is. Obviously our intel was wrong. Your having purple eyes means that your father is not only living, he could be the head of any of the families of the Circle.”

“He’s alive?” I gripped the edge of the sink. And if they were wrong about that, he might not even know I existed. “Why would the Saxons have thought I was their relative?”

“Intelligence comes in all the time, from all over the world. I don’t know where this came from or why it was wrong or even exactly what it said. You’ll still be safest with the Saxons,” Jack continued. “I promise. And we can contact Fitz and see what he meant by that message.”

My father wasn’t dead. I let that sink in for just a second before I snapped out of it. Allowing myself to be taken in by the Circle without understanding exactly what I was getting into would be beyond stupid. I had no room to be blindly optimistic anymore.

Jack was standing at the door, like there was no doubt I’d follow him. Yes, I was grateful that he’d finally told me the truth, but it wasn’t enough.

I had to get out of here. Get in touch with my mom. Decide what to do next.

But how? Jack would never let me get away again if he had the choice. I glanced at the window. The bathroom was one story up. Too high to jump, but maybe there was a fire escape. I could get him to leave me alone for a second, and run.

And then what? My mom wasn’t answering her phone. I couldn’t jump in a cab to the airport and fly home without a passport. Maybe I could go to the American embassy?

But the embassy was a government organization. They probably reported to the Circle.

Oh God. Did this mean I believed all of it?

Two sets of footsteps started up the stairs. Too late.

Jack flung open the door. I was surprised to see Stellan in slim dress pants and a button-up shirt, with a jacket slung over his arm. The furious light in his eyes had faded, replaced by a scowling suspicion. Luc was in a light gray suit with the salmon-colored shirt underneath, grinning, and they both smelled too good for what had happened earlier. Behind them, Elodie, Madame Dauphin’s supermodel assistant, waited, tapping her foot.

“She’s ready to go,” Jack said, with a silencing stare at me, “but I’m going to take her to the Saxons’ hotel. She needs some rest, and to meet her family as soon as they arrive.”

Even with all the guards at the Louvre, I’d have a better chance of escaping from Luc and Stellan and the Dauphins—who knew nothing about me—than from Jack.

“Maybe I should stay with them, meet you tomorrow,” I said to Jack. I tried to make my voice breezy. “I already have a room at the Dauphins’ and everything. It’ll be easier.”

His eyes could have set me on fire, but I knew he couldn’t say anything.

Luc threw a lanky arm around my shoulders. I couldn’t help but stare at his violet eyes. “Stay. You can come out to the club,” he said, like the whole world hadn’t just changed. For them, I supposed, it hadn’t.

Stellan pushed open the door, and he and Jack stepped to the landing. I ducked out from under Luc’s arm and he headed out, too, leaving me in the bathroom. If I acted fast, I could slam the door and have some chance of escaping before they realized what was happening.

“Where are you going?” I kept my voice light, but my hand crept to the deadbolt.

“Istanbul,” Luc said.

“Istanbul?” I said. “That’s a club?”

“It’s a city,” Elodie said from down the stairs. I could tell the words came with an eye roll.

“I know it’s a city,” I said. Luc chuckled. “Wait. You don’t mean you’re going to Istanbul, the city. In Turkey. To go to a club.”

“Which is why you probably shouldn’t go,” Jack said. “You’re exhausted.”

I was, but I was far more desperate. And I’d just gotten an idea.

Istanbul. Half in Europe, half in Asia, home to some of the world’s most impressive art and architecture. Mr. Emerson’s last postcard to me was from Istanbul. Jack said he had an apartment there. If I couldn’t reach my mom, maybe I could find him. The two of them were the only people in the world I trusted right now.

My hand fell away from the door.

“The plane’s supposed to leave in half an hour and we’re grabbing dinner on the way,” Luc said, “so if you’re coming, let’s go.”

“If she’s coming, we have to get her a dress,” Elodie called up. “Something more interesting than what they’ve got in this store.”

I stepped out onto the landing and let the bathroom door swing closed behind me.

“Istanbul sounds great,” I said, ignoring Jack’s death glare. “Let’s go.”

CHAPTER 16

Somewhere between shopping at Prada and clubbing in Istanbul, the rest of the adrenaline had worn off and reality set in. I plucked at the bandage on my shoulder while Luc talked to the club bouncer. Hundreds of people stood in a line that snaked away underneath a white version of the Golden Gate Bridge. I watched them all, paranoid. If the Order could find me at Prada, they could find me here.

Somehow, I had actually come to believe what Jack said about the Circle. It made no sense, but that’s why it was the only thing that did. I was standing here in a very expensive dress, after having flown across Europe in a private jet, and I had to get away from some really powerful, really motivated people who wanted me dead.

And that was if Stellan or Luc or Elodie didn’t figure out who I was and lock me up first.

I’d also realized on the plane that I had no idea where Mr. Emerson—I couldn’t start thinking of him by a different name—lived. Not an address, not even a phone number. As soon as I had a second alone, I’d have to Google him and see if I could find anything.