average human’s Reviews > Control My Night > Status Update

She kicked it underneath a table holding a vase filled with white roses, straightening the lapels on her blazer. The singed holes in the fabric revealed tanned, unblemished skin. “Thought I had something stuck in my thong. Where was I? Ah, yes, tonight was a clusterfuck, I need a new suit, and we’re officially at war with the Kohnstamms. Again.”
We’d rounded the corner; Lissandra and Arwood sat on one of the cozy Chesterfields, Steadman opposite. All nursed drinks and evidence—mutinous expressions, sooty, crimson-splattered clothes—of an evening not gone to plan.
Arwood perched his elbows on his knees, the sides of his close-cropped blond hair and chiseled face streaked with blood. Burgundy spread like an inkblot across the collar of his shirt. I’d never seen him look so … human.
“An excellent summary, dear cousin,” Lissandra drawled, dabbing the cut on her husband’s brow.
“It’s what I’m here for.” Anika helped herself to vodka from the drink cart. I waved off her offer, not sure I’d be able to swallow past the lump in my throat, and took one of the single-seaters. “What’s our next move?” she asked.
“For what it’s worth—hold still, Arwood, I’m not done yet—tonight provided necessary confirmation that a third party is active, unrelated to the Kohnstamms.”
“To the detriment of everything else,” Steadman said. “Johan’s done a terrific job framing us.”
“Perhaps not,” Lissandra replied. “The present bomb is Ferko’s signature. Neither family has known ties with him.”
“Didn’t. We didn’t have known ties with him,” Steadman said. “Until I went into his nightclub and killed his men but left him alive. Is it any wonder the Kohnstamms didn’t ask questions?”
I jammed my heels into the plush brown rug. We’d killed tonight. We’d killed many nights. And Steadman just sat there, acknowledging this with the remoteness of an overworked chef discussing a cut of meat he’d served.
Lissandra swept a white cloth up Arwood’s temple. The side-eye and smile he gave his wife had I hate this but thank you for doing it energy. Lissandra raised an amused eyebrow.
I immediately looked at Steadman. His lips had curved, but he didn’t seem upset or rattled, watching his lady love fuss over another. Steadman might not wear the marks of Johan or the Kohnstamms, he may have genuinely been concerned for Arwood’s well-being, but was he truly loyal if he allowed himself to have feelings for Lissandra? Or was this all part of a much larger game?
“It is what it is,” Arwood said, wincing as Lissandra pressed on a bandage. “We’ll need to instill proactive measures.”
Lissandra turned to me. “How did you know about the bomb, Keanna? What did Leon tell you?”
I resisted the temptation to fidget under the weight of everyone’s attention, considering I had seconds to decide how much information to share.
“He mentioned their shipments of women were being intercepted. The Kohnstamms assumed it was Arwood’s doing, given we know their schedules.” I paused, preparing for someone to jump in, for Steadman to dispel some sarcastic comment. No one did. “I realized both sides were being manipulated into a confrontation. All the attendants were Johan’s. And …” I sighed. This would sound ridiculous. “I just knew.”
Anika plopped a sphere of ice into her cup, refilling it with more vodka. “They do say banshees are the harbingers of death.”
“Useful,” Steadman murmured. “We’ll need that, moving forward.” Great. Exactly what I needed—to be more useful. I imagined Steadman toting me around like a metal detector to every future altercation, checking, ‘Is anyone going to die here?’ To Lissandra, he asked, “What resources can we bring in from Positano?”
“I’d rather cut my arm off than seek help from Papa,” Lissandra replied after a beat of silence. “I built this city in spite of him; he’ll demand recompense for assistance. And we have too much to lose by succumbing to open war again. The Sect will draw the line at that.”
Her lined brown eyes flashed across everyone in the room, seeking a challenge. The undercurrents of this conversation rolled thick and deep, and I needed to reflect on everything contained within. For now, I focused on absorbing the information instead of dwelling on it.
“I know I’m asking too much of you in this,” Steadman said, uncharacteristically gentle. “But we need to consider reinforcing our side as a precaution.”
“And we shall do so if all else fails. There’s a time for violence—and pragmatism.” Resolve tinged her accented voice as she recrossed her legs, her white dress rippling over the rug. “Let’s exhaust the latter first. I will reach out to Gisele. Requesting a meeting may give them pause.”
“Or she’ll take advantage of you trying to make peace.”
“I will not proactively command aggression,” Lissandra said. “That’s what Johan wants. Gisele is a force. She has lost Leon, possibly her husband, too, but even grieving she may be reasonable where Ivan was not.”
Leon’s dead?
Arwood had been silent throughout their discussion, pressing his thumbs into his chin. At this, he sat up straight. “We’re still unclear on whether the Kohnstamms know Isobelle’s location.”
I jumped in. “Leon swore they didn’t have her. He mentioned Isobelle was trying to find a way to control what she is. What if she approached the wrong person for help and Johan has nothing to do with it? What if the Sect has Isobelle?”
“You think that wasn’t the first place we checked?” Steadman’s voice resumed its usual even cadence as he addressed me. “They don’t.”
“How do you know?” I pressed.
Arwood shifted, taking the cloth from Lissandra and dabbing at his neck. “The Sect don’t suffer individuals with supernatural abilities who go public. They make an example of them, and would have made sure I was witness to anything relating to my daughter.”
“But we did go public tonight,” I whispered. “All of us did.”
Anika shot me a sideways look from the drink cart. Distress stamped her features as she tossed back more vodka.
“The Sect possess a weapon that can damage us,” Lissandra replied, “just as we possess one which equally damages them in return. While this is fact, and we maintain our scale of operations, they will not pursue us directly.”
Arwood’s mouth formed a grim line. “And I protect my own. Provided you remain of benefit to me, the Sect will not be a concern for you.” I heeded the warning in his voice, even if it wasn’t necessary. I hadn’t forgotten he had video footage of me. I knew how short my leash was. “Regardless—if they had her, we’d know by now.”
“Leon said Isobelle left a note before she was taken. If she was kidnapped, why would she have—”
“Anyone can type a note,” Arwood said. “A note proves nothing. It was neither convincing nor detailed enough to be helpful.”
“A note proves she may have left willingly.”
“Then why hasn’t Issie made contact?” Steadman countered. “It’s been weeks. She’d know we’re looking for her. She wouldn’t have left us wondering like that.”
His words were a blow to my heart. I couldn’t let my father know where I was, or even how I was doing. I was all he had. He was all I had.
“Until we reach a resolution with the Kohnstamms, all sweeps are suspended,” Lissandra directed. “No one is to leave this estate without permission. Dobromil?”
The guard standing behind us perked up, smoothing his thick russet beard. He’d been the one to defend me against the staring kitchenhand. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Inform the team what has occurred. Prepare accordingly. Any reinforcements we require, I’ll arrange.”
He nodded, exiting.
Lissandra stood. “Johan must be terminated. Ladies?” She looked between me and Anika. “You’re on call for the next few days. Be ready to leave at short notice.”
Anika saluted with her glass. Steadman passed Lissandra as they left, brushing the silky curve of her hip in the same subtle way Silas had touched me tonight. Arwood regarded me, missing it all.
“We appreciate your service, Miss Backhus. You’re dismissed.”
He followed his fabulously dressed, cheating wife out the room.