No. There’s only one path forward, and it terrifies me. There must be consequences for putting a child in danger, even if it was decades ago. It’s not the same penalty as actually doing the harm, but even my mother isn’t exempt from it.

Pushing forward with justice means I’m going to lose everything.

I look at Broderick, at Shiloh. We always knew this was temporary, but I thought I had more time. I needed the next ten months. Now, our time together numbers in the hours instead of months. It doesn’t matter if I’m a Bride. Brides don’t have to reside in the same location as their partners do. It’s unspoken tradition, but it’s not a law the same way as consummating the handfasting or keeping the Bridal peace. We’ll figure it out. The peace will hold, but this is happening one way or another. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“Okay.” He takes me at my word.

The drive to the main tower takes no time at all. I direct Broderick to park against the curb, and then we grab the body and head into the building through the front door. I don’t normally bring bloody business in this way, but don’t want to give my mother the chance to shove this mess under the rug and pretend it never happened. The Amazons in the lobby stare, but they make no move to interfere as we stride to the elevator and step inside.

I’m heir, after all.

Soon enough, I’ll be their queen.

The receptionist, Gladys, sees me coming and jumps to her feet. “Monroe—”

“Is my mother in her office?”

Gladys attention snags on the body over Broderick’s shoulder, and she pales. “Yes.”

“Thank you.” I lead the way back to the corner office where my mother spends most of her time. It’s decorated similarly to mine, classic and chic with an emphasis on the windows and the view they offer. I couldn't give a shit about the view right now.

I step aside, letting Broderick and Shiloh into the room, and then shut the door behind me. “It’s time to talk, Mother.”

If my mother is surprised to see Shiloh alive and walking, she doesn’t show it. Then again, she’s always had one hell of a poker face. She folds her hands and raises her brows. “Is there a reason you have a dead Mystic in my office? We’ve worked rather hard to avoid inter-faction conflict.”