“Nicely done, wasn’t it?”
I stare at the plane waiting for us on the tarmac, force my heartbeats to slow. I’ve been working for Looking Glass for years, I just never realized it.
“All this time,” I say, dragging my head up to meet his eyes. “All this time when Carson was chasing you, it wasn’t because of the drugs or the credit card scams. It was because of Looking Glass. It was because of the money.”
Michael nods. “They wanted to cut me out and he made it happen. Or he tried. Carson was supposed to tip me off about that raid and he didn’t. He thought—they all thought—by catching me in the thick of it, I would go away for a very, very long time. One less person to split the profits with.”
The raid. The one Griff kept me from, the one where Joe and Michael were caught, and I thought my father was gone for good.
There’s a sharp clang behind us as Martin unhooks the plane’s tie-downs and flings them to the tarmac. Michael’s watching him, but his eyes are glazy. “Then Norcut sicced Carson on Bay. And what a beautiful job you did on that judge for the good detective too. Well done. Would’ve worked out beautifully for Carson if Norcut and Hart hadn’t turned on him, gotten that boy of hers to plant those bombs. He must’ve been desperate for leverage when he tried to kidnap you. Something to remember here, Wick. You can’t trust anyone except yourself . . . and me.”
“Then why were you chasing me?”
“Because we’re family. We’re supposed to be together.” His grin is boyish and sickly in the pale light. “Yes, I was pursuing you, but I never wanted to kill you. Ever.”
“Throwing me around was what then? Because you love me?”
The smile drains from his face. “Because I want you to become the person you’re meant to be. I saw what was in you at an early, early age. I saw what you would be capable of, but it wasn’t until you asked me to kill someone that I knew you were ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“To join me.”
41
Join me. Michael says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world and maybe it is. Maybe it’s always been. Fighting against who I am is what got me here, isn’t it?
I study him, look at his suit . . . his shoes . . . his car. Even with the pretty clothes and the prettier vehicle, he still looks rough. In the dark, Michael’s blond, short-cropped hair is almost impossible to see, turning his head into a skull, his cheekbones into pits.
“You think I should join you because I lashed back at Joe?” I ask at last.
“Ah-ah.” He wags a finger at me. “Be specific. You had me kill him. You knew what you were asking.”
“I had to save Lily. He was going to hurt her to get to me.”
Michael nods. “Absolutely. Love is leverage, Wick. Joe understood it. Carson understood it. Norcut and Hart understand it. But look how that worked for them. Look what I’ve done for you. I’ve moved worlds for us and I would do more too. That woman who adopted you, she can’t give you what I can.”
I stare, feeling like I’m seeing Michael for the very first time. Is that . . . jealousy? He’s watching me now too, and even though his eyes are smudged with dark circles, they’re still as blue as I remember them.
Michael and I have the same eyes, the same hair. We are so alike in so many ways.
But it doesn’t matter anymore.
There has to be another way for me. My entire life everyone has told me who I am: I am my mother’s daughter. I am my father’s right hand. I’m not decent. I will never be decent.
They told me evil’s in my blood and I believed them. I acted like it was my destiny, but it was my choice. My choice. I didn’t make it before. I could now. Maybe, just maybe, it isn’t about what I’ve done, but what I’m capable of doing.
If I let myself.
Michael’s palm curves against my face and my stomach threatens to heave into my mouth. His eyes inch across my face. Can he tell he makes me sick? Can he tell I’m horrified?
“You used to flinch whenever I touched you,” he whispers and there’s something awful underneath his words. It sounds like awe. “But you don’t anymore. You are stronger than I ever believed. Aren’t you tired of being everyone else’s weapon, Wick?”
“Yes.” And I’m telling him the truth because suddenly I understand how lies aren’t the only things that can protect you. I know who I am now. That’s going to have to save me.
“Then stop letting them use you,” Michael says and his fingers dig into my cheek, finding the soft spot beneath my eye. “Take control, and come with me.”
“No.”
Somewhere outside the hangar, Martin slams a door shut. Michael leans in close. “Are you sure? I want you to think very carefully, Wick, because there is only one right answer here.”
I shudder even as pity chews through me. For all my father’s talk of love, he will never understand it. “I am not a thing to own.”