I laugh and wrap my arms around him, sobering as I do. “I don’t know what to do about the house, Kane.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. I know your first reaction was not to rebuild. I know your mother hid from your father here, it was her sanctuary. But that also made you feel close to her.”

He’s right which is exactly why I’ve gone back and forth about this decision. “I really don’t want to leave it like this and I don’t want to sell it.”

“Why don’t we re-build and make it our place in the Hamptons? You can design a Purgatory just the way you want it. And before you answer, yes, you were also attacked here, but you survived here.”

He’s right. I did. And in the end, we did. “What about your house?”

“And there lies the reason to rebuild, at least one of them. You still call it my house. We’ll sell it. Or keep it. We’ll figure it out. But as a bonus, rebuilding and moving here would make a statement. It would tell the Society they didn’t get rid of you, or us. It would be a real fuck you to the Society.”

“Sold,” I say, without hesitation, because, yes, fuck you to the Society. I’m coming for them. And I won’t stop until I win. And as for Director Murphy, he’d better pray he’s not involved with the Society. Or killing my mother. Or I will kill him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Once Kane and I are back in the car, with the heater blasting, I have tomorrow on my mind and still no update from DD on the autopsy. I shoot her a text message: Is there an autopsy in the morning or a fashion shoot?

She replies with: You really are a bitch.

I answer with: Thank you. I still need an answer.

Eight AM, she replies. Room B. Sweet dreams while you can, Special Agent Love.

It’s a weird reply that almost seems like a threat though she isn’t exactly someone who intimidates with such things. Rather than ask what she will deny, I reply with: Abso-fucking-lutely. I don’t have a problem with dead bodies, remember?

She doesn’t reply.

My mind goes to Andrew and all the new and old snakes slinking about around him. I shoot him a message: Call me when you get a break. Not urgent but important enough for you not to pretend to forget.

Not long later, Kane and I arrive home to find the house is clear, and Jay is there waiting on us. Jay is a tall, dark, good looking enough guy, I guess, with a scar on his cheek, and a personality, I don’t hate. Which is saying a lot, considering he’s supposed to be my backup when things get dicey, but he might actually need my protection.