Map of Fates (The Conspiracy of Us 2)

The clues were producing something concrete. I just couldn’t tell them about it—at least not until my mom was safe. A vaporetto passed with a low hum and the quiet splashing of propellers. “I’m not coming, then,” I said.

My father took off his sunglasses. “Avery.”

“No.” If they were really going to do this, I had to get to Greece as soon as possible. “If I don’t want to get married, and you’re not even going to let me meet all the candidates, why bother pretending you care who or what I choose?”

Lydia finally spoke up. “You’ll like Alex Frederick,” she pleaded. At least I could hear the guilt in her voice. “He’s really nice. And—”

I shook my head. Maybe he was, but that wasn’t the point. And I could no longer afford to take the Saxons’ feelings into consideration.

“You can go to Beijing and Washington alone.” I injected a little extra venom into the words so they wouldn’t question my motives. “Colette LeGrand’s invited me to spend some time on her yacht, and I’m going. I’ll be there until you get back.”

“No,” Lydia said. “Even if you don’t come with us, you being alone is too dangerous—”

“Jack will come with me.” I pushed back from the table, and my father started to get up, too. I held out one hand. “Just stop. You’re getting exactly what you want. I won’t even be there to argue while you decide what to do with my life.”

I stalked out of the restaurant and didn’t look back, not wanting to see the hurt on my sister’s face or the disappointment on my father’s. We’d better be right about Delphi. It was my last chance.

• • •

A few hours later, Jack and I were on Colette’s private plane. The second we touched down, three missed calls pinged on my phone, the number showing up only as UNAVAILABLE. The Order. As we taxied to a stop, I put the phone on speaker and called back, Jack tense in the seat beside me.

“I was beginning to think you were ignoring my calls.” Scarface. I hadn’t heard his voice for a while. They hadn’t called since we were in Paris—it had just been those texts.

Jack leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“I’m not ignoring anything. We’ve found some clues,” I said. “We’re looking into the next one right now.”

“Where are you?”

I met Jack’s eyes. They probably had ways of finding out where we were even if we didn’t tell them. I didn’t want to lie and give them any reason to take it out on my mom. “Greece,” I said.

“Hmm. You’d better hope it’s lucky for you. The Commander is getting restless.”

I huffed out a breath. “I need to talk to my mom,” I said. “That was part of the deal.”

There was some shuffling, and then a voice. “Avery?”

My breath caught, and I clawed for Jack’s hand. “Mom. I love you. I—”

“That’s enough,” Scarface said, and a door slammed on the other end of the phone.

I gulped back a tightness in my throat. She was okay. “I’m not going to marry anyone,” I said suddenly. “Killing those boys is just making the Circle more determined to find you. It’s not helping.”

Scarface chuckled. “You have seven days.” With that, he hung up.

• • •

Last chance, my brain kept repeating as we walked through the Athens airport. Last chance. My mom was alive and okay, for now. According to the Order we had seven days, but I only had four until I was expected to do my Circle duty.

Elodie and Stellan and Luc had arrived minutes after we did. Walking out of the airport, we passed a magazine stand, and I realized exactly why Colette had been hiding. Colette LeGrand’s Pain, said one of the headlines in English. All the magazines had paparazzi photos of her coming out of an apartment building, her heart-shaped face drawn and sad and framed by her famous tumble of auburn curls, looking straight into the camera like the photographer was the one who had killed her boyfriend.

“Are you sure she’s okay with us being here?” I felt bad having to bring her into our schemes so soon after her boyfriend’s death.

“I think she wants the distraction,” Luc said. “She’s been all alone, hiding out before she has to make an appearance at Cannes.”

I nodded. It wasn’t like we had much of a choice, anyway.

The Mediterranean was a color of aqua I didn’t realize water could be in real life. Colette’s yacht was in a marina near Athens, where dozens of white boats bobbed on the sparkling water, backed by whitewashed cliffs.

Colette greeted us from under a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses, her hair as wild as ever, but her smile noticeably dimmed. She ushered us up the gangplank and onto the boat, where she’d arranged a spread of cheese and fruit and bread and olives that covered every surface in the yacht’s small, well-appointed kitchen. She must have had every grocery store in Greece on speed dial.

Luc sat down at the booth table, digging in like he hadn’t eaten for weeks. I blinked, letting my eyes adjust, and Colette grabbed my hand.

“Come in, cherie,” she said, wrapping me in a hug. I was surprised again, even though I’d met her before, to realize she wasn’t any taller than me. And just like I’d thought when we’d met in Istanbul, despite being one of the world’s biggest movie stars and on the top of every men’s magazine’s Hottest List year after year, she was soft and warm and welcoming and almost momlike in a way that nearly brought tears to my eyes, not least because she was the one we should be comforting. It was only then I realized I was expecting to see blame in her eyes, or at least that horrible hope. But she just pulled away and looked me up and down. “Eat. You look thin. What have these ruffians been feeding you?”