Chapter 17
ELLIE
The modern mansion stands as a striking contrast against its isolated, untamed surroundings—an architectural marvel in the middle of nowhere.
Its exterior is a sleek composition of glass, steel, and concrete.
Floor-to-ceiling windows wrap around the structure, reflecting the vast array of trees.
The design is angular and minimalist, with clean lines and sharp edges, giving it a futuristic, fortress-like presence.
A flat roof stretches out like a platform, some sections overhanging to create shaded patios or dramatic cantilevers.
The entrance is grand yet understated—an oversized pivoting door set into a wall of matte-black metal, flanked by soft lighting that glows.
Dominic’s eyebrows touch his hairline as he studies the mansion before turning his attention to Aria. “Where the hell are we?”
Aria simply turns a coy smile—one that makes me feel distinctly uneasy—on him and gestures for us to follow her.
“Come,” she instructs, stalking up the steps and entering through the front door.
We don’t immediately follow.
“Why am I oddly terrified right now?” Beckett ponders.
“Because we’re at another mansion in the middle of nowhere?” I suggest dryly.
“I wish I had my stabby knife with me,” Zane grumbles somewhat petulantly. He kicks at a loose pebble on the driveway, sending it flying.
Dorm pats his shoulder. “I’m sure you can find another weapon to stab people with.”
Zane perks up. “Really? You mean it?”
“Errr…yes. The world is your oyster, blah blah blah. You can stab whomever you want with whatever you want, if you put your mind to it. Blah blah blah.” Dom waves a hand in the air flippantly.
“Besides, you probably already have at least two stabby knives on you,” Beckett drawls. “Don’t you shove them up your—”
“Ew, gross.” Dom wrinkles his nose.
“Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.” Zane shrugs and then winks.
I appreciate their attempt to lighten the mood, but I don’t think anything can wrench me out of my horrid thoughts. I take a deep breath, steeling myself, then hurry to follow Aria. She mentioned we’re attending another party, yet there doesn’t appear to be anyone here. Is this a trick?
Beckett catches up to me instantly and captures my right hand in his. Absently, he strokes his thumb across my knuckles, even as his head remains on a constant swivel, studying our surroundings.
“Maybe Aria’s relocating us,” he murmurs, and his multicolored eyes lock on mine, the intention in them clear.
Maybe she knows about Ryker.
Panic crashes through me instantly, but I work to stifle my reaction, to hide it behind an impenetrable mask.
No, she can’t possibly know about Ryker.
Right?
We enter a foyer as grand as the rest of the mansion, with a sweeping staircase leading to a mezzanine overhead.
Aria stands in the center of the room, in animated conversation with a gray-haired man. She stops when she sees us and turns with a wide, beatific grin. “I’m so excited for you to see me in action,” she says, that smile stretching but never reaching her eyes.
“What the hell is going on here? Where are we?” I demand.
Aria blinks before redirecting her attention to the unfamiliar man. She waves a hand in the air and murmurs, “That’s all I need for now, Felipe. Please make sure it’s done.”
“Right away, Divine One.” He bows his head subserviently and hurries away, ascending the staircase.
I gape at her. “He knows your identity?”
“Of course.” Aria clasps her hands primly in front of herself. “He’s one of the best party planners in the state.”
Um…
Is that supposed to answer my question?
I suppose I didn’t technically ask a question that required more than a yes or no answer, but still.
“We have a few mansions scattered throughout the area that we use,” Aria continues, her heels clattering on the tiles as she moves through an archway, toward what appears to be a dining room.
“All of them belong to members of the Paragons of Prosperity, though they remain abandoned, only to be used for our events.”
“Events,” I repeat numbly, thinking of the last couple of “events” I attended.
The first one, where Senator Reece was forced to fight to the death against another unwilling victim.
The second one, where Dana and Dustin were murdered, mutilated, then displayed like a macabre display of art.
What will this “event” have?
Shudders of revulsion ripple down my spine, and I instinctively step closer to Dominic, who’s to the right of me. One of his arms comes around my shoulders, heavy and protective.
“We constantly have to move from place to place, though my favorite is the mansion we visited last night. I actually stay there when I’m not at my bungalow,” Aria continues as she passes the dining room and into the kitchen.
There are dozens and dozens of employees here, all preparing food and prepping drinks.
None of them are wearing their masks, though I know that’ll change the second the guests arrive.
I notice Zane glaring at an unfamiliar man with a bulging belly and receding hairline. As I watch, the stranger barks out orders at one of the women, who cringes but begins to chop faster.
I sidle away from Dom to step up to Zane. “What is it?”
“Just finalizing my murder list,” he whispers back. “Don’t worry about it.”
Is it strange that I’m not worried about Zane’s murder list?
Anyone who’s on it probably deserves death—or worse.
“We have a few hours before the party begins, and we need to prepare,” Aria continues, breezing past the kitchen, down a hall, and into yet another room.
“I require the staff to arrive six hours early, to prepare hors d’oeuvres and drinks.
Security arrives two hours early. The guests should arrive promptly at eight o’clock. ”
We appear to be in a study, similar to the one in the last mansion. I wonder if every mansion POP holds its parties in is required to have a room just like this—a place The Divine One can disappear to for a few hours.
“My job is setting up the entertainment for the night,” Aria continues, claiming the high-back chair behind the mahogany desk. “Normally, I’ll ask for…one of our volunteers to help, but I have something different planned for today.”
Her smile broadens, even as an icy, insidious feeling slithers through me.
I have a feeling that “volunteers” is the wrong word for the men and women she convinces to participate in these brutal games.
No. More than likely, the entertainment Aria provides for the guests is none other than the people she kidnapped and trafficked—or bribed and coerced.
Maybe some of them are bad, but I have a feeling the majority are innocent, thrust into this world they know little about.
Nausea churns in my gut, but like every other time I’ve confronted this evil bitch, I keep my expression blank. It’s something I wouldn’t have been able to do only a few months ago. My guys always said it was impossible for me to conceal my true feelings.
Now, it’s the only way to ensure my survival.
“I didn’t know that being the leader of the Paragons of Prosperity meant you were nothing more than a glorified party planner,” Dominic drawls, leaning against the back wall with his arms folded over his chest.
I try to rein in my snort, but it escapes anyway.
I didn’t realize it before now, but it’s true. I never thought about how much work and effort goes into all of POP’s parties and events. But someone has to do it.
Aria’s eyes narrow nearly imperceptibly, the only outward indication that Dom’s comment pissed her off. “I do a lot more than plan parties, boy.” She sniffs haughtily and folds her hands on the table.
“You also kidnap people, murder people, rape people, torture people…” Zane ticks off, counting each one on his fingers. “Did I forget anything?”
“Coerce people, bribe people, destroy people,” Beckett adds with a helpful smile.
“Very true, my dear old chap. Very true.” Zane adopts an over-the-top British accent that has Beckett’s smile flattening. He immediately hits Zane across the back of the head.
I know these moments of brief levity are for my benefit, so I smile softly, putting all my love and adoration into it.
Then I turn to face Aria, and my smile instantly fades. “So, what’s your plan for today?” I ask, already fearing the answer. “What is this so-called entertainment you have lined up?”
I once watched a documentary on lions. During one particularly traumatizing part, they showed a lion stalking its prey, hiding in the underbrush, its golden belly flush with the sand.
Then its mouth opened, its gaping maw revealing row after row of glistening white canines, and it pounced, landing on the gazelle who couldn’t even attempt to flee.
That’s what Aria’s smile reminds me of.
The lion…just before it pounces, tearing into flesh.
“You, my dear child.” Aria licks her lips, savoring my discomfort and the growls from the men around me. “You will be the entertainment tonight. After all, it’s not often we have a goddess in our midst.”