“Are you familiar with the House of Shadows?” Vianca asked.
“I am, Madame,” she said flatly.
“Then you should be afraid.”
Enne felt a coldness wrap itself around her heart, but it wasn’t fear.
It was anger.
Enne straightened her posture. Lifted her head up. Looked Vianca square in the eyes. Regardless of what Zula had told her, Enne had submitted herself to enough warnings and rules for her lifetime. If the donna was going to send Enne to the site of her mother’s death, then she would be ready—and, if given the chance, she would burn the place down.
“What do I need to do?”
The corners of Vianca’s lips curled into a smile. “Sedric Torren is becoming a threat. I need him gone.”
By “gone,” Enne knew she meant “dead.” The thought weighed less on her conscience than it should have, but she had hoped to never encounter that man again.
“Why me? You have dozens of others at your disposal,” Enne said. Vianca had once boasted to her about the dangerous empire under her command, yet she was assigning a mere schoolgirl to perform an assassin’s work.
“Because you’re still my secret,” Vianca said. “I can’t have this traced back to me.”
Vianca grabbed her tea kettle and poured herself a cup of chamomile, her hand trembling. Enne couldn’t determine if age had simply weakened her hands or if the donna was truly nervous.
“Sedric will recognize me,” Enne said darkly. Certainly, the charade she’d played last time would be broken.
Vianca’s eyes roamed over Enne’s body in a way that made her want to shiver. “I knew he’d like you. You reallydolook his type.”
Enne clenched her fists as the memories of that night flooded back to her. She could feel the ghost of Sedric’s hand against her thigh. “You didn’t warn me what he was.”
“Sedric has an army at his disposal. There were few circumstances in which you could have caught him alone or unprotected.” The heartless logic in Vianca’s voice made Enne hate her. For the donna, this was all a game, and Enne was a disposable piece. “If you had known, he would have grown suspicious. I played you to your own advantage.”
“No,”Enne seethed. “You exploited the trauma of probably countless other girls. All so you could win. I’ve never been so disgusted. You’re as much of a monster as he is.” Dangerous words to say to the commander of the Augustine Family—Enne’s grief had made her reckless. She wasn’t acting like herself.
Or maybe she was.
Vianca’s nails drummed against her desk. “Careful, Miss Salta. You’ll forget who the real enemies are in this city.”
Enne examined her coolly, ignoring Vianca’s words. No, she would never forget.
“Whether or not he pays Torren back tonight,” Vianca said, “the preparations for his execution have already been made. The Shadow Gamewillbe played tonight, at the stroke of midnight.”
The Shadow Game. The weight of all Enne’s anger, all her grief, hardened in her chest. Her conscience, a soft and fragile thing, was buried somewhere inside, some place deep and dark and unreachable.
“Whose execution?” Enne asked.
“Levi’s.”
Then, at last, came the fear.
You’re not alone.
But she would be, if Levi had been invited to play the Shadow Game.
“Why?” Enne choked. Her confidence from earlier was breaking, searing panic seeping its way into the cracks. She would lose everyone she cared about to the Phoenix Club, one by one.
Vianca’s face clouded with something that could almost be mistaken as remorse. “It’s my fault. But I have other plans for Levi—that’s why I need you to save him.”
Vianca Augustine was an excellent liar, but Enne could still hear the desperation in her voice. Levi wasn’t simply an omerta for her. Not just a favorite toy. Even so, it was hard to imagine Vianca capable of anything like love or kindness. Having those feelings made her only more of a monster. If Vianca knew compassion, then she also knew the pain she caused.
