Glorious Rivals (The Grandest Game, #2) (86)

But perhaps not.

Lyra stood, and Rohan allowed his body to list toward hers. “If you find yourself in need someone to despise, Ms. Kane…” Rohan wielded his rogue’s smile like a blade. “I assure you that I am most despicable.”

Often, it was those who pushed the world away who had the strongest underlying need to be anything other than alone.

“I don’t need your assurances,” Lyra bit out. “I don’t need anything from anybody.”

That was, of course, a lie, and as Rohan considered his next move, the part of his brain that was always listening registered that they were about to have company. Long strides, weight to the balls of the feet.

Hello, Savvy.

Rohan let his eyes settle on Lyra’s—brown, not that palest of blues and grays. After a long moment, he lifted his gaze to the clue in the sky, offering his face up to the rain as he did. “We’re all liars, Ms. Kane.”

“Knowing that…” Savannah announced her presence like he was not already well aware of it, making her way toward them. “Living it…” Savannah crouched next to the still-raised plaque and retrieved the ledger for herself, and then she looked up at Rohan and Lyra both. “That’s the grandest game of all.”





Chapter 73





GIGI


It had been hours since the Woman in Red had walked out the door, locking them in once more. How many hours, Gigi wasn’t sure. Ominous words rang in her ears.

The time for watching is done.

For probably the hundredth time, Gigi tried to rouse Slate—and this time, he groaned.

“What happened?” His voice was gravelly and low. Golden hair, darker with sweat, hung in his face all the way down to his cheekbones. Through his hair, Gigi saw his dark eyes open—and focus.

On her.

“Do you want the extended version or the really extended version?” Gigi asked. “I also offer reenactments.”

Eve rolled her eyes, thoroughly pretending that she hadn’t been keeping vigil over Slate this entire time. “You got knocked out,” Eve told him flatly. “And someone took the bait.”

“Not in that order,” Gigi added helpfully. “The person who knocked you out wanted to know about the Grandest Game. She called herself the Watcher.”

The Lily. Calla. The Woman in Red.

Eve narrowed her eyes at Gigi. “You knew her.” Eve sounded like she’d been biting back that accusation for hours.

“I knew of her,” Gigi corrected. “She’s supposed to be missing or dead or… something.”

“I’m going with something,” Eve replied.

Slate straightened, pulling against his bindings, his hair falling back out of his face, his posture almost leonine. “Will one of you please get this tape off me?”

“For the record,” Eve told Gigi with another roll of her eyes, “that please was for you.”

Gigi offered Eve her sweetest smile. “Full disclosure: I am still planning your doom.”

“I’m still planning his.” Eve eyed Slate. “It evens out.”

Eve rounded to the back of the chair to work on his wrists, and Gigi approached from the front, squatting down in front of Slate and attacking the bindings on his ankles. Gigi didn’t have nails as sharp as Eve’s—but she did have teeth.

The duct tape made a satisfying sound as it tore, and within seconds, thanks to Eve’s nails and Gigi’s teeth, Slate was free. As he stood, Gigi popped back to her feet.

Dark eyes found hers. “Are you all right?”

To prove—to herself as much as to him—that she was, Gigi forced a grin. “Teeth like a beaver,” she told him.

“Not what I was talking about,” Slate replied, and then he turned. “Eve?”

Eve tossed her hair, which Gigi figured meant about the same thing as her own grin. “I’m fine,” Eve said. “I gave our visitor what she wanted, and she left.”

“What exactly did you give her?” Slate shot a look at Eve.

“Lyra,” Gigi realized belatedly. “You gave her Lyra.”

Gigi had no idea what anything Eve had said meant—omega, lilies, Alice Hawthorne—but Gigi did know what throwing someone under the bus sounded like. She also knew how her brother looked at Lyra Kane. She knew that a target on Lyra was as good as a target on Grayson himself.

First Savannah. Now Lyra and Grayson.

“No time like the present,” Gigi said, and that was all the warning Eve got. Nobody expected a Tasmanian devil pounce—pretty much ever. As flying tackles went, it was a thing of beauty.

Slate gave Gigi a second or two, then hauled her off Eve. “Nicely executed.”

“Thank you,” Gigi replied. “But I’m not done yet.”

“Easy there, sunshine.”

Eve picked herself up off the ground. It took Gigi a second to realize that Eve was holding something in her hand. It looked like a coin of some sort but unlike any that Gigi had ever seen.

“How many of these is it going to take,” Eve asked Slate, “to make you mine again?”

Mine. Gigi’s brain latched on to that word. Hers.

“It was never just about the seals for me,” Slate said, “and I think you know that.” Something unspoken passed between him and Eve, the intensity in his eyes matched by a slight narrowing of hers.