Likenormalwas in the eye of the beholder.
Grayson read Max in—on the file, on the patent that didn’t exist, on the drawing of the gilded blade and the fake patent number that went along with it, not to mention all of the other numbers from the file.
“Two, three, ninety, forty, one-hundred-eighteen, one-hundred-seventy-five, two, nine, two, and one,” Max rattled off. “Plus the quote-unquotepatentnumber.”
1312596375.By this point, Lyra knew it by heart.
“There are far too many digits for all of them to hold significance,” Grayson summarized. “Thus, we’ve been working off the theory that one or more of the numbers in the file might be the means ofdecodingthe false patent number. Unfortunately, there’s no spacing on the patent number, so we don’t know if it’s ten single digits or if they need to be grouped, and if so, how. Combine that with the number of potential ciphers and…”
Max let out a low whistle.
Grayson reached for his phone and called his sistersyet again—but this time, the call must have gone through. Grayson’s posture changed in an instant.
“Rohan.” Grayson issued that name as an accusation as he turnedaway from Lyra and Max, holding his body utterly erect as he allowed the person on the other end of the line a brief reply. “Definefine.”
Rohan answered Savannah’s phone, Lyra registered.And Savannah definitely isn’t fine.
“What happened?” Grayson had a way of turning questions into orders:You will tell me what happened.A few seconds later, his voice went dangerously low. “Put my sister on.”
Hell had no fury like an overprotective Hawthorne.
“This is going to be good,” Max whispered to Lyra.
“Savannah.” Grayson’s shoulders visibly loosened.Relief.“Are you alright?” There was a pause. “Whether or not youneedme, Savannah, you have me. Say the word, and I am there.”
Grayson’s love for his sisters was steady and solid and fierce in a way that Lyra recognized all too well. She took the fact that he wasn’t threatening to haul Savannah home, whether she liked it or not, as character growth.
Say the word, and I am there.
“Oh wow,” Max whispered to Lyra, studying Grayson’s expression as he listened to Savannah’s reply. “I think she might be threatening him. Bold move.”
“Put Gigi on,” Grayson ordered, and then a full minute passed before he spoke again. “Gigi, slow down. All I got from that wascoffee,knife, anddrugged.”
Max circled around to stand next to Lyra. “And the plot thickens.”
Gigi must have started her explanation over, because Grayson was quiet for even longer this time. When he did speak again, he started with: “No. Absolutely not.” There was a pause. “Do not hang up on me, Juliet.” Grayson kneaded his forehead. “Gigi?”
Three more seconds passed, and Grayson hung up the phone. “Nash has iteasy,” he muttered.
“Sisters.” Max made a show of commiserating, but Lyra had the general sense that Max might very wellnothave any sisters herself. “Am I right?”
“Sisters can be a handful,” a voice said from the doorway. Lyraturned to see Libby Hawthorne, formerly Grambs. Libby was famous for being Avery’s sister, for marrying a Hawthorne, and for her gothic fashion sense, but today, she was wearing gray sweatpants. Her hair, dyed black at the roots and a vivid rainbow of neon colors lower down, was uncombed.
“Libby.” Grayson took a step toward his sister-in-law. “Are you… Should you…”
“Pregnant women can indeed stand,” Libby told Grayson. “Walk, even,” she continued. In sweats, Libby didn’tlookpregnant, at least, not obviously so, until she laid a protective hand on her stomach. “Thing One and Thing Two like being on the move.”
Twins, Lyra remembered.
“I think that’s Grayson’s cue to catch us up on the sister drama,” Max declared.
“Where’s Nash?” Grayson asked.
“Right here.” Nash stepped into the library, carrying an oversized tray of cupcakes, and closed the door behind him.
“Gigi and Savannah are fine.” Grayson clearly wasn’t feeling chatty. “Rohan got them out.”
“Out of where?” Nash asked in a dangerously pleasant tone as he set down the cupcakes.