Knox shot me a vicious look over his shoulder, but rather than forcing me to leave, he gestured for me to come in, sparing us both that fight.
I slipped inside and closed the doors, sticking to a corner where Celia wouldn’t be able to see me. On the monitor, she leaned forward until her face took up the entire screen. She was beautiful, with long dark hair and the Hart eyes, but there was a fierceness to her that no one in their right mind would challenge.
Except Knox.
“I don’t care whether you approve or not, Creed. I am just as much a founder of the Blackcoats as you are, and the D.C. team is under my command. This is not up for discussion.”
“If you raid Somerset, everything we’ve worked for will be destroyed. We will once again be the enemy—do you understand?” said Knox, his hands tightening into fists.
My jaw dropped. Somerset was the traditional home of the Hart family, nestled in the heart of D.C., far away from the slums I’d grown up in. I knew eventually the Blackcoats would have to seize control of it to cement their power, but we weren’t ready for an invasion yet. The majority of the Blackcoat army was trapped in Elsewhere, slowly starving to death. Celia might have a few hundred people at her command, but Somerset was undoubtedly crawling with guards and Shields. It was suicide.
“I don’t care about raiding the manor,” said Celia. “I care about separating the impostor’s head from his body.”
“If you kill Daxton—”
“He isn’t Daxton.” Her voice rang out through the speakers, as clear as if she were standing right next to Knox. “How long have you known, Creed?”
Knox stiffened. “Lila told me late in the summer. She found out when Daxton tried to assault her.”
For a long moment, silence filled the office, and my heart pounded. “You’ve known for nearly six months, and you never said a word to me?” said Celia at last, her voice dangerously soft. “He tried to kill my daughter. He tried to kill me. All this time, all I had to do was tell the public who he really was—”
“And what good would that have done?” said Knox. “At best, Daxton—”
“Stop calling him Daxton.”
Knox took a deep breath and released it. “At best, Victor Mercer would have done exactly what he’s doing now—deny it and use your family to discredit the claim. Augusta would have backed him up, and you would have come out of it looking like a lunatic.”
“I could have leaked it to the press without my name attached.”
“No newspaper in the country would have printed it. They’re completely under the government’s control. At best, Victor would have forced the most trustworthy and liked members of the Hart family into backing his claims. At worst, we would have been at war before we were ready. Victor would have pulled no stops to protect his secret, and the Blackcoats would be nothing more than a footnote in the history books, if that. I knew if I told you the truth before we were ready, everything we worked for would be ruined. And that is why I kept it from you.”
Celia stared at him, her blue eyes wide and full of shock—or shame, maybe. Or sadness. Anger. Betrayal. All of it combined into something I couldn’t name. When she spoke, her voice trembled, as if it took every ounce of willpower she possessed to stop herself from bursting into flames. “How dare you.”
“How dare you try to destroy everything we’ve worked for,” said Knox. “You’re blinded by anger and revenge. You’ve lost sight of the objective. This isn’t about vengeance or payback for what Victor’s done to you. This is about the country and its half a billion people counting on us succeeding. If you kill Victor now, you’ll only turn him into a martyr, and no one will ever know who he really was. No one will care, because to them, he is Daxton Hart. Is that what you want? For that monster to go down in history as your brother?”
“Stick a gun in your mouth and pull the trigger,” snarled Celia, and a moment later, the screen went black.
Knox stood in the middle of the office, his shoulders slumped and his head down, taking one deep breath after another. I couldn’t tell if it was because he was trying not to lash out or break down or both.
“That—” I began. Knox snapped around to look at me, his dark eyes already accusing. I dropped my folded arms and let them hang loosely at my side. As often as we bickered and fought, we were still on the same side. “That was pretty badass of you, you know. Standing up to her like that.”
“It doesn’t matter.” His voice was tight and his words were clipped, and he lumbered over to the couch and dropped down gracelessly. “She’s going to raid Somerset and try to kill Daxton anyway.”
“Can’t really blame her,” I said slowly, not wanting to upset him more than he already was. “Lila’s the only family she has left. Maybe she’ll get her out of there and spare Daxton.”
Knox shook his head, his fingers tangling in his hair. “If she has a shot, she’ll take it. She isn’t thinking rationally.”
“Maybe he won’t be there.”
“We can play the maybe game all day, Kitty. In the end, we won’t know until it’s over.”
I was quiet for a moment, my gaze drifting over to the black screen. There had to be something we could do. “Have you tried contacting Sampson? He could put a stop to this.”
“She’ll anticipate that. Sampson knows he ought to stop her anyway. He’s the one who helped me come up with this playbook. If he has any say at all, he’s already trying.”
“Then maybe he’ll succeed.”
Knox sighed wearily. “Maybe. What do you want, Kitty?”
“I—” A pang of pity needled my side as I took in the circles under his eyes and the lines in his face that seemed to grow deeper every day. Now wasn’t exactly the time, but there would never be a good time for this. “Did you hear Lila’s speech?”
“Yes. I take it you did, too.”
I nodded. “Most of it. You know she’s saying those things under duress.”
“It doesn’t matter. She’s still saying them.”
“But—Benjy noticed something.” I took a step closer to the sofa. He watched me, his dark gaze unwavering. “She’s shoving it down our throats, that Daxton isn’t Victor. She said it at least a dozen times. Benjy said she’s pushing too hard—that any idiot with half a brain can tell she’s protesting too much.”
“Only those who are willing to hear it,” he said. “Perception, remember?”
I frowned. “Still. Don’t take this out on her.”
“You’ve already pardoned her,” he said. “I’m not going to undermine you, not when the public needs to trust you. But you will do and say exactly what I tell you to from now on, understood?”
Relief flooded through me, and I shrugged. “I could say yes right now, but we both know that would be a lie. But I do promise to talk to you about what I want to say ahead of time, if it comes to me. If something’s impromptu—”
“Try to do as little of that as possible,” said Knox.
“I’ll do my best.” I glanced at the door. “Dinner’s almost ready. Are we calling a meeting?”
Knox sighed and straightened, his hair sticking up. “Nothing we can do here to stop it. Whatever happens is going to happen, whether the