He was alive.

Caden was alive.

Rose sat and buckled her seat belt more by force of habit than anything. Strange, she had been sitting on a plane, waiting to takeoff, when she’d heard him die. They’d been on the phone when she’d heard the gunshot fired and she had spent the entire flight from California to Boston, playing that sound over and over.

She and Weston had stayed silent after Tristan—no, he was Arthur now—dropped that particular bomb. Her first instinct had been to slap the shit out of Juliette, the lying bitch, but she was resolved to maintain her loyalty and would not betray the Trinity Masters by showing weakness in front of outsiders.

She looked at Weston out of the corner of her eye. His face was blank, and he was staring straight ahead, his one remaining eye as fixed as the false one.

Juliette and Devon took the seats across from them. Juliette looked calm and determined. Devon looked like he wanted to say something.

The flight attendant made an announcement, and so did the pilot. Rose heard neither of them.

They sat in stony silence as the plane took off.

It was Devon who broke first. Once they were at their cruising altitude, he unbuckled his seat belt and leaned forward, reaching for Rose. “Rose, listen, I wanted to—”

Weston’s hand clamped down on Devon’s wrist. “Don’t. Touch. Her.”

Tension filled the cabin. Weston’s knuckles were white, he was squeezing Devon’s wrist so hard.

“He’s alive?” Weston asked quietly. “My brother is alive?”

Juliette raised her chin but didn’t speak. Devon yanked his arm back. He looked at his wife and then said, “The Grand Master doesn’t have to explain anything to—”

Rose saw red. Last time she’d felt like this she’d tried to blow up and shoot people. The small rational part of her mind—which sounded surprisingly like Marek—was begging her to calm down.

Rose unbuckled her seat belt and lunged for Juliette, landing one hard slap on the other woman’s face before Devon shoved her back.

“I said don’t touch her,” Weston snarled.

“Back off.” Devon bit off the words. “Calm down, both of you.”

“Calm down?” Weston shoved Devon so the other man bounced off the back of the seat. “My brother is alive and you didn’t tell us!”

Rose stared at Juliette. The last time she’d attacked her, Juliette had fought back. It had been a hell of a fight. This time, Juliette wasn’t moving to retaliate. Rose could see the outline of her own fingers on Juliette’s cheek, but the blonde didn’t move, not even to lift her hands in defense.

“Why?” Rose asked.

---

Juliette had known this powder keg was going to blow in spectacular fashion the second Arthur dropped that bomb. How the hell had he known? That, more than anything, scared her.

She was ready for Rose’s attack, for Weston’s anger. It was justified. It was deserved.

She’d almost welcomed Rose’s slap, felt it was her due.

“I’m sorry, Rose. More than you’ll ever know.”

“I’m sorry? That’s all you have to say to me? You let me believe—for months—that Caden was dead. Why?”

Juliette wished she had a better answer. “We weren’t sure he was going to survive that night. It was touch and go for days.”

Devon started to speak, but Juliette placed her hand on his knee.

“No,” she said. “She needs to hear this from me. When it was apparent he was going to live, we made a decision.”

Juliette hesitated.

“Keep going,” Rose said, through clenched teeth.

“Caden was working with the purists.”

Weston banged his hand against the armrest of his seat. “He was just as much a victim of our parents’ evil as Rose was. He did what he had to—to survive. You know that. You can’t condemn him for his actions.”

“I know that,” Juliette said, more to calm Weston down than from true belief. She didn’t trust Caden Anderson as far as she could throw him, but there was no denying he was a product of his upbringing—the same as Rose and Weston. “We hoped that once he recovered he would be able to help us bring down the Andersons.”

Rose inhaled slowly. “Caden. Caden blew up the boat, didn’t he?”

“You made him blow up that boat?” Weston asked, his words dripping with pure disgust. “Rose was on the yacht. You could have killed her, too.”

“No.” Devon shook his head. “Caden acted alone on that. We wanted to trap them, you know that. Rose was wearing the wire. You were all there, doing what we thought best to bring them to justice. Caden…”

Rose grinned, though there was no joy in the expression. “He got away from you, didn’t he? Escaped the big CIA man’s clutches.”

“Clutches?” Devon scoffed.

Juliette knew he was still angry and frustrated that Caden had managed to slip away. “He was too injured to leave the safe house. At least that’s what we thought.”

---

Rose looked at Juliette, waited until the other woman’s gaze met hers. “Caden and I have high pain tolerances.”

Beside her, Weston made a sound of pure agony. Rose took his hand without looking at him. She was trying to hold on to her anger at Juliette and Devon, but that feeling was quickly fading, replaced by anxiety.

Caden is still alive.

Caden is alive.

Deep down, in the darkest parts of her soul, she hated that. She hated that he hadn’t died because, as hard as it was, his death had been clean and simple. Dead Caden had no control over her. Dead Caden meant no more Master Anderson and Darling.

“Caden’s alive.” She wasn’t aware that she’d spoken aloud until Weston squeezed her fingers.

“I’m here, Rose. I’m here.”

“The men in my life keep returning from the dead.”

“Rose, I’m so sorry,” Juliette repeated. “There’s something you should know.”

“Something else? Oh, what fun,” Rose said.

Weston barked out a laugh, and some of the cold that seemed to be filling Rose faded away.

“He agreed…” Juliette looked at Devon, as if asking if he wanted to speak.

Rose switched her attention to Devon. He’d been her fiancé for most of her life, and though she’d never been able to trust him enough to be honest with him, she had cared for him, and he for her.

Devon sighed. “Caden assumed all guilt for the things the two of you did for the purists. He wanted to ensure that the Grand Master wouldn’t punish you…although you didn’t make it easy for us to ignore your crimes.”

“You blow up one little hotel room and suddenly you’re labeled mentally unstable,” Rose joked.

Devon didn’t share her humor. “He didn’t want you to know he was alive. Either of you.”

Weston stiffened. “He knows I’m alive?”

“He didn’t want us to know?” Rose asked at the same time.

Devon reached out and took her hand. Weston growled, but Rose and Devon both ignored him. Out of the corner of her eye, Rose thought she saw Juliette stiffen.

“He said…he said he didn’t want to hurt you anymore. That it would be better for you if you never found out he was still alive. I was working on creating a new identity for him when he blew up that damn yacht. Now…”

“Now?” Rose prodded.

“I think Caden Anderson should remain alive.”

Rose yanked her hand from Devon’s, covering her face. The pain was too much, too deep for tears. She hid behind her hands and trembled as a lifetime of painful memories washed over her. Weston cursed and hauled her onto his lap.

“He can’t hurt you anymore,” Weston whispered in her ear.

But I’m his. I belong to him.

There was some part of her that would always believe that. It had been, quite literally, beaten into her.

“I wish Marek was here,” she whispered.

“Me too,” Weston answered.

Rose hid against her husband. She’d never imagined she would call Weston husband, and had never dared to dream someone as wonderful and noble as Marek could love her.

“Guys, can Rose and I have a minute?” Juliette asked.

“You want me to stay?” Weston whispered in her ear.

In response, Rose slid off her husband’s lap into her own seat.

The men stood, eyeing one another uneasily. Weston might never get over the fact that Devon had been Rose’s fiancé, and Devon would probably never get over the fact that Weston hadn’t come to him for help all those years ago when he learned what the Andersons were doing to her.

But they left the cabin together.

Juliette scooted forward and tentatively touched Rose’s knee. “Rose? This isn’t me asking as the Grand Master. This is me asking as a friend. Are you okay?”

A friend? Yes, perhaps we are friends, or at least working toward it.

“Okay? No. I’m not okay.”

Juliette stayed silent.

“I thought… I thought it was over. But that’s clearly never going to happen. I’m broken and I always will be.”

“You’re not broken, you’re a survivor.”

“A survivor?” Rose snorted and looked out the window. “Technically that’s true.”

“You don’t have to see him,” Juliette whispered.

Rose jerked as if she’d touched a live wire. “See him?” She licked her lips, and looked at Juliette. “I can’t. I can’t. I don’t know…I don’t know if I could be near him and not…”

“Not what?”

“Not kneel. Not submit.” Rose rubbed her face. “For God’s sake, I’m married. He can’t…”

“You’re right. He can’t.” Juliette came out of her seat and wrapped her arms around Rose. “He can’t do anything to you that you don’t want.”

---

Neither of them spoke again. Not for a long time.

So long that Juliette had forgotten about Devon and Weston.

“Everything okay in here?” Devon asked, popping his head back into the cabin.

She nodded, releasing Rose, who looked more like her indomitable self again. Juliette would always admire her strength. Rose might get knocked down, but she never stayed there. Never failed to rise again.

Juliette had, for the most part, dealt with her jealousy issues. Devon loved her and Franco. They were happy together. The fact that he still felt something for Rose—mostly guilt—didn’t change that.

Weston returned to his seat next to his wife, taking her hand.

Devon gave her a wary look that Juliette soothed away with a soft smile and nod. It was enough to let her husband know that everything truly was okay.

They were quiet for a few minutes, but that silence gave Juliette time to remember that there were still too many hurdles to clear even if they did hand Caden over.

“How did they know?” she asked. “How did the Masters’ Admiralty know Caden was alive?”

Weston looked grim. “They’re powerful. Really powerful. My guess is they have connections in the U.S. that we don’t know about.”

Damn it, she was powerful and well-connected too, but she’d gone into that entire meeting completely blind. It pissed her off. “How big is the Masters’ Admiralty? Who is the fleet admiral?”

“I don’t really know,” Weston said. “I only dealt with Tristan. I know he had access to lots of resources.”

Juliette sighed. “They’re bigger, more organized, older, and generally more powerful than we are. Add to that they seem to know more than we want them to.”

“I’m glad,” Rose said.

They all looked at her.

“Things had gotten a little boring. Now they’re exciting again—dead ex-lover slash tormenter back from the dead, facing possible annihilation from a frenemy, and we still haven’t figured out the truth about my parents.”

“You really suspect your parents are purists?” Juliette asked Rose. Their trip to London had lasted less than twenty-four hours, but rather than solving anything, they’d bought themselves a lot more trouble.

Rose shrugged. “I don’t know the Hancocks very well. I was raised by my grandmother until she died, and then I was in boarding school. Even when my mother was alive, I spent most school holidays with the Andersons because she traveled so much. Once she died, I was always either at school or with the Andersons. I called my father for help, shortly after…” Rose hesitated.

Juliette raised her hand. “It’s okay, Rose. I know what you mean. What did he say when you called?”

“He told me to listen to the Andersons. To do everything they asked of me.”

Juliette swallowed down the bile Rose’s answer caused to rise in her throat. How had she never seen all the horrors Rose had been subjected to? For so many years, she’d looked at the older girl and seen strength, confidence, poise. All those ideas were altered in her mind now as Juliette considered what she really must have been seeing—fear, self-preservation, and a sheer force of will to hide the atrocities she was suffering.

“I don’t know what I think about them. It was clear they never cared about me, only the power they thought I could offer them in the Trinity Masters’ hierarchy. Hence, that damn betrothal.”

Juliette grimaced. She’d shared a similar disdain for the machinations of their parents, forming a “power alliance” of families when she, Rose and Devon were all still children.

However, wanting an advantageous match for their daughter didn’t equate to “purists” either.

A couple of months earlier, they had rounded up all suspected purists, subjecting them to—Juliette sighed as she tried not to think about what techniques Devon might have employed—questioning. All she knew was that it was likely long and painful.

And, in the end, they’d concluded that the purists’ sect had died with the Andersons. Victoria was the last of the Prosser line, except for some cousins by marriage who hadn’t known anything and if she didn’t count Weston and Caden. The Wythe line ended with Mrs. Wythe, and it was apparent her great-niece and nephew, Elliott and Marianne James, were clueless to their great-aunt’s crimes. Grant was the last of the Breton line, and Sebastian had cleared him long ago.

As for the Hancocks…Juliette had dismissed them as political power players, uninterested in anything but their own careers, and candidates for worst parents. Tasha had said the questioning hadn’t gone well, and had never gotten past the point of them being outraged at being subjected to it in the first place. She’d asked Juliette if she could try some “alternative techniques,” but Jayce Hancock was a senator, and they couldn’t keep or question him for more than half a day. Tasha had done her best and concluded they had no idea who or what the purists were, and when questioned more deeply, they appeared to have no idea that the Andersons had been anything but doting foster parents to Rose.

Tasha’s questioning had tipped them off that Rose’s childhood hadn’t been great. Since discovering that, the Hancocks had reached out to Rose, tried to make amends, but so far their daughter had refused to speak to them or accept their apologies.

Rose’s doubts triggered Juliette’s.

Rose was smart. Her suspicions had Juliette’s Spidey senses on red alert.

Juliette had felt initial relief after hearing the Andersons were dead, but now…she wished they were still here. Without them, she was holding on to a list of innocents.

And Caden.

What the hell was she supposed to do with him?