"I’m sure you have a lot of fingerprints on file," I say, keeping my voice steady. "New York is a dirty city."
"It is," he agrees. "And Silas Vane is the janitor. He cleans up well. Bodies disappear. Evidence vanishes. Money moves."
He picks up his card and taps it against the marble.
"But people talk, Mrs. Vane. Especially when there’s a power vacuum. The streets are whispering that Nikolai didn't just leave town. They’re saying he was executed."
"Rumors," I say.
"Murder," he corrects. "And there’s no statute of limitations on murder."
He slides the card into the neckline of my dress. His fingers brush my skin. It’s invasive. It’s a violation.
"I’m going to find out what happened that night," he promises softly. "Silas Vane is slippery. He’s got lawyers, judges, politicians in his pocket. I can't touch him."
He looks me in the eye.
"But you? You’re new to this. You’re the weak link."
I laugh.
It’s a genuine laugh. It bubbles up from my chest, dark and amused.
"The weak link?" I ask.
I step into his space. I lower my voice to a whisper.
"You have no idea who you’re talking to, Detective. You think I’m the victim? You think I’m the damsel Silas dragged into his tower?"
I lean in until my lips are inches from his ear.
"I’m the one who locked the door."
Kane pulls back, blinking. He looks unsettled. He expected fear. He got defiance.
"Be careful, Mrs. Vane," he warns. "Monsters eat their own."
"Good thing I have sharp teeth."
I turn around and walk away.
My heart is racing. My blood is singing.
I feel... alive.
For the first time in weeks, the boredom is gone. The itch is scratched.
There is a threat. A hunter.
I look across the room. Silas is watching me. He has broken away from the Senator. He saw me talking to Kane. He saw Kane touch my dress.
His face is a mask of thunder.
He meets me in the middle of the room. He grabs my arm, his grip tight.
"Who was that?" he demands.
I look at him. I see the possessiveness. I see the violence coiling in his muscles, ready to snap.
