Chapter 13 #2
I forced myself to pay attention despite the panic pressing against my ribs.
Three doors on the left. Two on the right.
No visible cameras, but that didn’t mean anything.
Malrik didn’t seem like the kind of man who missed details.
There were mirrors positioned at the corners of the hallway, angled just enough that someone could watch movement from more than one direction.
We passed a narrow table holding a vase of white flowers so perfect they didn’t look real. I slowed half a step, thinking maybe I could grab the vase and smash it over the butler’s head.
Before I could decide if that would be rude or useful, the butler said, “I would advise against that, Miss Deveraux.”
I froze. He didn’t even look back.
My skin prickled. “Against what? ”
“Improvisation.”
I stared at the back of his head. Okay. So not harmless. Good to know.
We reached the top of a grand staircase.
I stopped at the railing. The foyer below was enormous, all black marble and gold light, with a chandelier hanging so low and heavy it looked like it could crush a man if the ceiling decided to give up.
Two men stood near the front doors. Another near a hallway.
Another by what looked like a side entrance.
All dressed in black. All pretending not to watch me. They were very much watching me.
My fingers tightened around the railing. Four visible guards. Probably more hidden. No obvious exit I could reach without being grabbed.
Fantastic.
My odds of escaping were currently hovering somewhere between impossible and embarrassing.
The butler started down the stairs. I followed slowly, because running in heels down marble steps felt like a quick way to become both kidnapped and concussed.
The dress brushed around my legs with every step, soft and suffocating.
The fabric suddenly felt too tight against my throat. Too intentional against my skin.
Someone had chosen this for me. Someone had decided what I would wear before I even woke up. The thought made anger cut through fear for one beautiful second. Anger I could use; it made me sharp. Fear made me shake.
At the bottom of the stairs, we moved through another hallway. This one was wider, lined with tall windows that looked out onto grounds swallowed by darkness. I caught glimpses of manicured hedges, stone fountains, black iron gates in the distance. No city lights. No neighboring houses. No help.
Nikolai’s estate had been isolated too, but it had never felt like this. His house had been cold. Dangerous. Full of shadows and secrets and men who looked like they cleaned blood off their boots without complaining, but it had breathed.
There had been noise there because I forced noise into it. Coffee mugs abandoned on counters. Viktor’s dry comments. Guards pretending not to laugh when I insulted the curtains. Maria threatening me with a spoon because apparently pancakes catching fire was “irresponsible.”
Nikolai’s world had been dark. This place was dead. Perfectly polished and completely dead.
The difference hurt in a way I wasn’t prepared for. I wanted him. Not just alive, here beside me. Scowling and ordering me to stop talking. Looking at Malrik like murder was a reasonable dinner plan.
My throat burned.
Do not cry. Absolutely not. Not here .
Not in this haunted mansion with staff members who probably folded towels after disposing of bodies.
The butler stopped outside a pair of enormous double doors. My heart started pounding harder. He placed one gloved hand against the handle.
I swallowed. “Is he in there?”
The butler looked at me and something almost like pity crossed his face. It disappeared so quickly I might have imagined it.
“Yes.”
Then he opened the doors. It sounded like a knife scraping against porcelain.
The kind of sound that absolutely did not belong in the middle of a kidnapping.
Warm candlelight spilled across the floor.
The dining room beyond the doors was massive.
Larger than it needed to be. A long table stretched through the center, polished so brightly the flames reflected across its surface like trapped stars.
Crystal glasses. Silverware. Black plates rimmed in gold.
Tall arrangements of white flowers placed at intervals with military precision.
At the far end of the table sat Malrik Drax. He looked up to meet my eyes from across the room. He looked at me as if everything had gone according to plan.
He wore a black suit, tailored perfectly, with a silver watch at his wrist and a wine glass beside his plate.
His hair was brushed back, the silver at his temples making him look distinguished in a way that made my skin crawl.
Distinguished was the wrong word for men like him. It dressed rot in expensive fabric.
Malrik’s eyes moved over me. Assessing my body with eyes that made my skin crawl. As if he was checking the condition of something valuable after delivery. Then he smiled.
“There she is.”
I didn’t move. The butler stepped back and closed the doors behind me. The click sounded final. Malrik stood, polite and elegant in a way, but he was absolutely terrifying.
“You look lovely, Emerald.”
My pulse thundered against my ribs.
“You shot Nikolai.”
Straight to the point, because if I let him control the conversation immediately, I would lose before it even started. Malrik dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin before setting it down beside his plate.
“One of my men shot Nikolai.”
“Oh, thank God. That makes it so much better.”
A faint smile touched his mouth. “Still sharp. Good.”
Good? Like he was pleased I wasn’t broken? My hands curled into fists .
“Where is he?”
Malrik gestured to the chair across from him. “Sit.”
“No.”
“You’ll want to be seated for this conversation.”
“I’ll want a lot of things. Currently at the top of that list is your head slammed into that centerpiece.”
Real amusement flickered across his face. Not warmth, but enjoyment. There was something demonic about the way he enjoyed resistance. Like it made the game more entertaining.
He walked around the end of the table and pulled out the chair himself.
“Sit,” he said softly. “And I will answer your questions.”
I stared at the chair, then at him. Then at the closed doors behind me. I hated every option, but I needed answers.
I walked forward and sat. The second I did, a server appeared from the edge of the room and began pouring wine into the glass beside my plate.
I startled slightly.
Where the hell did these people keep coming from?
“I don’t want wine. ”
The server paused.
Malrik looked at me. “What would you prefer?”
“I’d prefer not being kidnapped.”
“Reasonable.”
I stared at him. “You are so weird.”
He sat across from me, unbothered, and picked up his knife again. “You should eat.”
“I’d rather swallow glass.”
“That can be arranged, though I wouldn’t recommend it.”
My stomach rolled. Okay. Not joking. Good to know.
“I’m not eating anything you give me.”
“You haven’t eaten for two days now.”
My body went still. “How do you know that?”
He cut into his steak calmly.
“I make it my business to know useful things. I know that you went running out of the Voss estate yesterday morning, and you have been unconscious for half of today.”
Useful, that word made me feel dirty. As if hunger, fear, pain, and love; all of it could be reduced to data if the right monster was looking. I leaned back in the chair, refusing to touch anything on the table.
“Is Nikolai alive?”
Malrik took his time chewing before answering.
“To be honest,” he said, “I have no idea. Last I heard, he was lying in the middle of the road bleeding into the rain.”
The words gutted me. I looked down before he could see my face collapse. I knew it was too late before his voice softened.
“Interesting.”
I swallowed hard, but my throat felt too tight.
Please be alive. Please, Nikolai. Please.
“Are you upset that he’s hurt because you love him,” Malrik asked, “or because he may be your brother?”
Every ounce of warmth drained from my body. Slowly, I looked up. Malrik watched me with calm, almost academic interest.
“How do you know about that?”
“There are very few secrets in this world I do not eventually hear.”
My fingers tightened around the edge of the table .
“Did Lucien tell you?”
“Lucien told me many things.”
“Lucien is dead.”
“Yes,” Malrik said softly. “And still causing problems. Impressive, really.”
I wanted to throw up.
“You don’t get to talk about him like this is funny.”
“I don’t find Lucien funny. I found him useful.”
The way he said it made my skin crawl. Useful. Again, everything was about usefulness to him. People. Pain. Bodies. Bloodlines.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he continued.
“I’m not discussing my feelings with you.”
“Because you don’t know the answer?”
I forced a smile even though my lips trembled. “Because I prefer not emotionally bonding with elderly kidnappers over dinner.”
One dark eyebrow lifted slightly.
“I’m fifty-eight. ”
“Congratulations. That’s still old enough to know better.”
Another faint smile. He liked this. That was the worst part. My defiance didn’t bother him. It entertained him.
“You remind me of your mother.”
My smile vanished. “Don’t talk about my mother.”
“Cecelia was beautiful,” he said, as though I had not spoken. “Strong too, in her way. Not strong enough, of course. But few people were when Lucien wanted something.”
My blood ran cold.
“What does that mean?”
Malrik leaned back in his chair, one hand loosely around the stem of his wine glass.
“Lucien and I met when we were young. Younger than you are now. We were angry boys who learned quickly that the world rewards cruelty more consistently than kindness.”
My stomach tightened.
“Cecelia chose Alexander,” he continued. “That broke something in Lucien.”
“No,” I said immediately. “Don’t do that. ”
His eyes sharpened slightly. “Do what?”