Chapter 13 - Sarah’s Choice
“Don’t move.”
Sarah’s voice was steady.
Emily froze in the doorway.
“Mom?”
Sarah’s eyes flicked toward her daughter.
Everything inside her face broke at once.
“Oh, baby.”
Emily rushed forward.
Sarah dropped the gun onto the bed and caught her.
They held each other so tightly Adrian could hear both of them crying.
He stayed where he was.
Four years of imagined conversations vanished from his mind.
There was no speech for this.
No perfect line.
Only disbelief.
Sarah looked over Emily’s shoulder.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Adrian almost laughed.
“I could say the same thing.”
Her face hardened.
“You were supposed to stay away from this house.”
“Funny. Nobody told me.”
“I did.”
“What?”
“Three years ago. I sent you a message through Victor.”
Adrian looked at Victor’s empty place in the room as if his brother might appear there.
“I never got it.”
Sarah closed her eyes.
“Of course you didn’t.”
Mara entered behind them.
Sarah saw her and stood.
“You.”
Mara stopped.
“I looked for you.”
“You looked where Thomas told you to look.”
Adrian’s head snapped up.
“Thomas?”
Sarah stared at him.
“Your father is alive.”
“I know.”
“No, Adrian. You know he survived the bomb.”
She picked up the pistol.
“You don’t know what he became.”
Emily stepped back.
Sarah continued.
“North Star was supposed to expose corruption. Thomas built it after someone tried to kill him. Then he started collecting leverage. At first it was insurance. Then it became power.”
Claire appeared at the door.
“Where is Rook?”
Sarah’s face changed.
“Rook is not North.”
Everyone went still.
Claire whispered, “Then who is?”
Sarah looked at Adrian.
“North is a title.”
Adrian felt the answer before she said it.
“Thomas?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Thomas is the founder.”
“Victor?”
“No.”
Sarah’s eyes filled with pain.
“North has to be a Vale by blood. That was Thomas’s rule.”
Emily stared.
“There are only three Vales left.”
Sarah looked at her daughter.
“No.”
The floor creaked upstairs.
Adrian lifted his weapon.
Sarah raised hers.
A man descended the stairs slowly.
Tall.
Gray hair.
A familiar face older than Adrian remembered.
Thomas Vale.
His supposedly dead father.
He stopped halfway down.
“Four,” he said.
Adrian’s chest tightened.
Thomas smiled sadly.
May you like
“There are four Vales left.”
