Has everyone gone mad?
Labeling Pierce as a fraud and Vincent as the real mastermind designer being praised and honored. Vincent’s designs are horrible, and it’s nothing like what Pierce used to do. They’re sleek, plain, and boring—not molding to the woman’s body like Pierce’s designs used to. Pierce is magnificently outrageous and daring, whereas Vincent is so… basic.
I want him alive and suffering. But something like this would result in Vincent’s death. If this were brought to the attention of the High Celestial Court—the highest ruling court in the Universe—there would be a violent outrage.
So, yeah. I don’t want them to raid my room.
I’m literally the most dangerous person to Vincent, and he has no idea that shit is about to go down. I sit at my desk and expel a long breath.
I have been working closely with Jensen, who has made a vow to take down Vincent, and today is a special day for us. I have been waiting for this day for fifteen years. I unlock my desk and pull out a hidden compartment, taking out an old FGI Darling necklace. I mind link to it, mentally calling Jensen on the magical phone line that still works. Dion made sure the lines were active all this time. Nothing can top FGI’s tech, even though Vincent claims it was faulty.
He’s faulty.
I wait.
I smile, not being able to contain my excitement. “Jensen,” I whisper. “They issued his death certificate today—I saw it personally.”
“Yes!” Then I lower my voice. “Is that Delilah?”
I grin. “Hi,” I whisper back. “Tell Jack the info too and to start getting everything in motion on locating Pierce and some shifters. We can’t do this without them. I hope Babsi can get a better vision with the full moon tonight.”
I take a shaky breath, feeling a rush of nerves. “Yes.”
“I will. Don’t worry. They do not suspect anything from me.”
I roll my eyes.
Those two have made this long wait bearable, but Vincent also screwed them over. I know his team took the last medallion piece and hid it somewhere because it’s not where it should have been—fifteen long years of searching and turning up with nothing, which makes no sense.
Vincent hates Jensen, and I will bet my life on the fact that he has it.
Despite that setback, they have lived well with the medallion pieces they have, thankfully. The only downfall is that Jensen is unable to sire children until it’s found, which makes this very personal for them. They desperately want children, but Jensen and Delilah have so much love for each other that they have overcome that. One minute they’re at each other’s throats—then the next, at each other. It works for them—it’s their love language.
My face heats, not knowing what it would be like to have that connection with someone. I’m just the nerdy virgin who has only made it to second base four times before freaking out and running away. I have been overprotected my whole life, so it’s no wonder why I’m super awkward. I think about the man. Jared was his name, my ex-boyfriend, who I’d only let hold my hand. Once he touched my breast and removed my glasses, I ran away like the awkward thing that I am.
But I hold a secret. One that would put this whole mission to find Pierce in jeopardy.
I hear my door open, making me tense, my heart stopping but then relaxing when I see Zoya leaning in the doorway in her black pantsuit. “Sheesh,” I breathe, “you scared me.”
She looks not a day older than the moment I met her years ago, with her same high bun. The aging process is little to none in most of the Universe except for a handful of planets and, of course, our base planet, Earth.
I stare at her, my pulse drumming.
“Pierce’s—”
“His death certificate,” I interrupt with a weak smile. “His sentence is fulfilled. If he’s alive, they cannot touch him. His time is done.”
She nods and looks down, not saying much, but so much is circulating in the air. I can feel the tension like it’s manifesting by the second. I know she is tired of hearing my Pierce prattle, but this is different. “We can act now—finally.”
She smiles, looking up with watery eyes, putting me on edge. I know she has been through a lot in the years following his death sentence. She did not take it well, like us all. “You really think he’s alive after fifteen years, April?” Her expression is harsh, like I’m a little child with dreams of unicorns.
I’d like to add that they do exist, so my delusions of Pierce are not that far-fetched.
I swallow. “Yes,” I whisper, wishing I sounded more confident.
He must be alive.
“I know, but I will find him.”
“You must prepare yourself because you’re very vulnerable to heartbreak—”
“I know—”
