Chapter 10 DEVIL IṆ DISGUISE
Blood everywhere. Terrifying screams. Heart thrashing out of my chest. Thundering gunshots. Elias’s voice in my ear, low and lethal.
Maxwell lying in a pool of scarlet.
A strangled gasp tears out of me, and I bolt upright.
My vision swirls, my head woozy, like I’m seconds away from drowning. I focus on physical sensations. Cotton sheets. Soft mattress. Dark room. Only a sliver of light peeks through the closed curtains.
Where am I?
Maxwell.
The memories pummel my mind in violent snapshots. Elias at The Orchid. His entourage. The vault.
The cold press of his gun barrel against my temple.
Oh my God, Maxwell. Visions of my brother lifeless on the ground send me scrambling out of bed.
My eyes burn as I remember staring helplessly at his still body when the elevator doors closed.
Please tell me he’s okay. There was so much blood. How can anyone survive losing that much?
My lips tremble, grief punching my gut. We’re the Andersons. We’re strong motherfuckers, as Rex would say. I have to have hope.
Calm down, Lana. What did your self-defense classes teach you? Assess, then react. Panic will kill you.
Escape first. Everything comes later.
Blowing out a deep breath, I take a few steps, my bare feet registering the rough carpet. Cool air hits my legs.
Hold on, I’m not in my clothes.
My hands fly over my body. I’m wearing someone else’s shirt. My legs are bruised, stomach in knots, but no pain in unusual areas.
I don’t think I was violated.
Hands trembling, I stumble to the window, and peel back the curtain.
Determination sharpens my senses.
Focusing on the landscape outside, I note the barren trees first, their gnarly branches stretching toward the gray skies. A wrought-iron fence encloses the park like a prison. The puddles on the ground tell me some time elapsed when I was out.
It wasn’t raining this morning.
My gaze snaps to the right, taking in the familiar church spires in the distance. St. George’s Episcopal. Rain-soaked brownstones stand sentry around the square. A statue looms in the center of a circular hedge.
Gramercy Park. I’m in Gramercy Park.
I examine the white dress shirt I have on. A man’s shirt. High thread count, soft as silk. I recognize quality when I see it. Driven by instinct, I lift the collar and inhale.
Dried vetiver and woodsy smoke.
Elias. This is his. Why am I in his shirt? Why did he take me? And why did he need Mom’s letter?
Endless questions pinball around my mind, but I shove them away. I’ll have time for that later.
Quietly, I tiptoe toward the closed door, sweat beading on my neck.
“Shit,” I mutter when the knob doesn’t give. And it’s sturdy. Unbreakable.
Ugh. Why didn’t etiquette and self-defense classes include lock-picking?
My gaze sweeps around the room again—it’s bare bones, clearly a temporary place. There’s only a bed and a lamp on a simple nightstand. Nothing I can use. I glance toward the window. I didn’t see a fire escape, but perhaps I overlooked something.
“Fuck no!” A growl reaches my ears and I flinch.
More faint sounds. Angry voices. A chair scrapes against the floor. Heavy footsteps. Conversations in a foreign language.
They’re coming from the other side of the wall.
I press my ear against it. Anything I pick up may aid my escape.
“I fulfilled my end of the bargain. You got your letter,” the familiar, raspy voice says. Elias. He has to be talking about Mom’s letter from my safe.
“…may have overestimated you…only part one.” Someone’s talking to him, but the stranger’s voice is too soft. I can’t make out his words.
“I’ll take care of them. No need to go nuclear,” Elias responds.
Them? Who? Us? Me? He must be near the wall because I hear him clearly.
“The Association won’t be pleased…the Rite…her.”
The Association?
Heavy breaths saw out of my lungs as the levers slide into position—a complicated puzzle box that’s invisible, but they’re all the same.
All puzzles have answers.
Elias is part of The Association.
My chest locks tight, my hands forming fists by my side.
The bastard. He’s been a mole all this time.
“We’ll keep her…thirty-five…” What?
A few beats of silence follow.
Then Elias’s voice again, as sharp as a blade.
“I’ll marry her. I’ll marry Lana Anderson.”
“What!” I quickly clasp my hand over my mouth.
Too late.
The door crashes open, and a hulking man fists my hair and drags me out.