Neve dug through the chest with both hands, her excitement growing with every layer.
It went deeper than it looked, and every single thing inside was one of those small carved leather pouches.
That meant all of them were storage bags!
She sat back on her heels and looked up at her grandmother, practically glowing.
“Nana, there must be hundreds.
We could give one to everyone we trust.”
Margaret nodded slowly, but her expression had turned serious.
“Yes.
But listen to me, Neve.
We can’t take these out casually or let anyone see them being used.
The more treasures we have, the more danger we’re in.” She paused, and her mouth tightened.
“Above all, the Ashfords must never find out about them.”
Just saying the name gave her a headache.
She pressed two fingers to her temple.
Richard Ashford had already come after her granddaughter’s pendant once.
If he learned there was a chest full of bottomless bags sitting inside it, he would never stop.
“I know, Nana.
I’ll be careful.” Neve got to her feet and took her grandmother’s arm.
“Come on.
Let’s go drink some more spring water first.
As long as our bodies get stronger, we won’t have to be afraid of anyone.”
She meant it.
In her past life, quite a few people from the Sinclair household had awakened abilities in the first days of the apocalypse, and every one of them had been fiercely loyal.
Declan with metal.
Silas with lightning.
Lana with space and wind.
Callum with water.
Even the ones who hadn’t awakened had fought for her until the very end.
Now they had the spring, the space, and the storage bags.
If they stocked up on weapons as well, they would have nothing to fear from the Ashfords at all.
The two of them walked back across the patchy black and yellow soil toward the spring.
The water was as clear and cold as ever, and it sparkled faintly in the light.
This time, they drank a great deal of it.
They soon regretted that.
Within the hour, both of them were locked in their bathrooms, cramping and miserable, while the spring water scoured out whatever impurities the first purge had missed.
It went on for a long, unpleasant time.
But when it was finally over and they had showered, both of them felt remarkably light.
Their limbs moved easily, their heads were clear, and their skin felt fresh and new.
Margaret said she hadn’t felt this good since she was fifty.
Neve ate a quick dinner and went to bed early.
She was asleep almost the moment her head touched the pillow.
Margaret, however, stayed up.
She had brought a little over a dozen storage bags out of the space with her, and now she sent for the people she trusted most.
One by one, they came to her sitting room, and one by one, she placed a small leather pouch into their hands.
Declan Hughes.
Walter Hughes.
Robert Hughes.
Jordan Lyle.
Sasha Woods.
Gavin Walsh.
Caleb Hunt.
Miles Marsh.
She showed each of them how to bind the bag with a drop of blood and how to look inside.
She watched their faces change as they saw the space open in their minds.
Walter’s hands shook a little.
Gavin swore under his breath, then apologized.
Sasha simply stared at the pouch for a long time without saying anything.
“Tell no one,” Margaret said to each of them.
“Not your friends, not your family outside this house.
Use them for your work and keep them on you.”
In their past lives, according to Neve, these people had protected her granddaughter until the day they died.
Not one of them had betrayed her.
Margaret believed they would be just as loyal in this life.
And with the storage bags, every task she handed them would become much easier.
There would be no more trucks to hide, and no more warehouses that someone could follow them to.
Everything they bought could simply disappear into their pockets.
Early the next morning, Margaret’s phone rang.
It was Arthur Leighton.
“Margaret!
Is that girl of yours ready?” His voice boomed down the line.
“I’ve already called all my useless boys home.”
Arthur no longer cared what information Margaret had or how important it was.
That had stopped mattering to him almost as soon as she’d brought up the match.
All that mattered was bringing the Sinclair girl into the Leighton family.
The thought alone made him so happy he could barely sit still.
In fact, he had worried that the grandsons already in the country might not be good enough for her.
So he had summoned every grandson he had who was living abroad as well.
Several of them had flown through the night.
“I’ve spoken with my granddaughter, and she’s agreed,” Margaret said.
“Send someone to pick us up.”
She said it evenly, but inside she was uneasy.
She didn’t want Neve leaving the estate at all right now.
Not with Sylvie Ashford out there, and not with Richard looking for a way to get at the pendant.
But if the Leightons sent their own people to fetch them, it would be different.
No one would dare try anything against a Leighton convoy.
“Oh!
In that case, don’t come out at all.”
Arthur paused for a moment.
He was no fool.
If Margaret wanted an escort just to cross the city, the girl’s situation must be serious.
The Sinclairs, as they stood now, really couldn’t match the Ashfords.
And Margaret had always been a cautious woman.
Of course she didn’t want her granddaughter out in the open.
“I’ll bring all my grandsons straight to your house,” he said.
“That would be best.” Margaret felt some of the tension leave her shoulders.
“Come for lunch.
I’ll have everything arranged.”
The moment she hung up, she called for Helen Hughes and told her to prepare a formal lunch for more than twenty guests, plus the Leighton security detail.
Helen went pale for about two seconds.
Then she rolled up her sleeves and started giving orders to the kitchen.
On the other side of Solmere City, Arthur hung up the phone and walked out of his study.
His grandsons were waiting for him in the main living room.
There were more than twenty of them, sprawled across sofas, perched on armchairs, and leaning against the bookcases.
Some were still in rumpled travel clothes.
One was asleep sitting up.
The youngest couldn’t have been much past twenty, and the eldest was nearly forty.
Arthur looked them over with a critical eye.
“All of you, go change into formal clothes,” he said.
“If this many of you can’t bring the Sinclair girl home as a wife, then when you come back, I’ll deal with every one of you according to the family rules.”
He checked his watch.
“You have one hour.
Make yourselves presentable.”
A groan rippled around the room.
“Grandpa.” The tenth grandson rubbed his face and sat up straighter.
“What kind of girl is this?
Why do twenty-something of us have to go on one blind date together?
Since when did Leighton men get this pathetic?”
He was one of the biggest stars in the entertainment industry.
His face was on billboards across three continents, and he could have practically any woman he wanted with a crook of his finger.
And yet here was his grandfather, lining them all up like goods on a shelf so some girl’s family could pick whichever one they liked.
His words made the others turn and look at him, and then at their grandfather.
Nobody said anything, but their eyes said plenty.
Every man in that room had built something of his own.
There were executives, surgeons, officers, and investors among them, men who were used to making the choices, not being chosen.
Being paraded in front of a single woman was close to an insult.
But no one dared to say so aloud.
Arthur’s gaze swept slowly across the room, and one by one, they looked away.
Then, without a word, they stood up and went to change.