When Henry reaches the cage, he lifts a small black remote, clicking a button. Mozart’s “Lacrimosa” wafts through the room, and with another few clicks, it swells into mournful waves that shake the room. My professor once said the harmonies within “Lacrimosa” twist together majestic beauty and unholy horror. Granted, I’m sure he was thinking of some Gothic cathedral, not his student on the verge of torture. But his description is eerily true.
Henry turns back to me, placing the remote inside his chest pocket and pulling out a key. It’s barely audible over the clash of the choir with the orchestra, but there’s a click and the cage swings open. My body clenches in anticipation, and a searing trail of liquid trickles down the inside of my thigh.
I fight to hold the feverish gleam in his icy eyes with my own, but I’m swept away in Slade’s eyes staring back at me. Somewhere in my heart—a fissure, a crack. The deep lines surrounding his voided gaze pinch together as a disgusting grin morphs his lips. “I think, my sweet seven-fifty-five, it’s time to play.”
The stillness I’ve worked hard to maintain betrays me, and I thrash as he grips my chin and slides the tip of his knife over my clavicle. The nick is surface level at most, papercut quality, but I strain to see it nonetheless. Blood oozes out across the nick, and his eyes widen with a hungry frenzy. He leans forward, mouth clamping over the small cut. My lips curl and I dry heave as his tongue laps over my skin. He grunts out an indulgent moan, and my stomach roils at the very stench of him. Tears plunge down my cheeks, but I bite my tongue, swallowing the curdling scream that wants out.
He leers at me as he pulls back, rubbing a single knuckle over the valley of my chest. “Yes,” he says. “I think I know why my grandson favors you.”
A whimper escapes at the mention of Slade, and another gash is made on my neck. I was right. The reason I don’t know what to do with my life is because I’m not meant to have one at all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
SLADE
“I want his daughter held until I say!” I yell at my guard on the phone, then toss it down on the limo floor. She’s already secure. Knox confirmed it. The wordheldis doing more work than it deserves, but Graves doesn’t need to know that. He only needs to believe she’s vulnerable. I don’t want to have to make good on my threat, but I will not let anyone get in my way.
“Sir, is that really what you?—”
“Shut up, Edmond.” He shrinks back in the seat beside me. We’re screaming down the road to EV, my plan to meet with Graves in the Sovereign Chamber still in effect.
“Did the transfer go through?”
He straightens, pulling out his phone. “Yes. Final amount is ten million.”
I sigh, feeling relief with the weight of the amount. It’s more than any Culling, and more than the entire group of girls combined. It’s sick putting a number on Thea, but I’ll do whatever it takes.
Henry DuPont thinks that by freezing access to my trust fund, he’s limiting me, but he’s wrong. I’m smarter than he gives me credit for, and I’d do anything for her.
Vignola seems to think the number is sufficient. I texted him shortly after I finished on the phone with Graves. I need the Eight’s support outside of my grandfather. To him, this is his way of controlling me, reining me back in under his watchful eye. Perhaps it’s even a grab for power within the Eight. The idea he could potentially usurp Graves might live rent-free in the back of his mind. Either way, most of the Eight care about two things: power and money. To most of them, Thea isn’t worth it. Use her and move on.
They aren’t worried about Piper, not with Vaughan on the hunt, and when he goes on the hunt, he’s off-grid. Piper Reeves has been a pain in EV’s side for years now, digging into every crack and crevice she can find. Poor girl never stood a chance—I’m surprised she’s lasted as long as she has.
Thea will blame herself. In her attempt to rescue the Market girls, she pulled Piper in, and I hate she’s probably feeling responsible.
My driver pulls into the garage, and I don’t wait for the limo to stop. I dash out the door, running into Kenji as he exits the security booth. Edmond calls something out after me, but I ignore whatever it is. A firm hand grounds me as I rush to the elevator.
“What’s the plan, Slade?”
“I need to meet with Graves and secure Thea’s release. The other piece is already handled. Get out of my way.” I frantically reach for the biometric scanner.
“What do you need?”
I smack the scanner that’s unable to read my fingerprints. “I don’t know what I need! I need her! I need her safe and away fromhim. Damn it, what is happening to me?” I dam the wave of emotion choking me, and when the scanner turns red again, I grab Kenji’s hand and force it to the device. “Disloyal bastard,”I mutter, hoping somewhere in the void of space and time my words find him because whenIdo …
The green light flickers, and the voice mutters her seductive “Welcome, Kenji?—”
I tear into the elevator, mashing the button over and over, willing it to hurry. This is because I took an interest in her, saved her from the Culling—put a target on her back. He hated when I escaped into my room or a close corner with a book or comic instead of feeding into his need for social depravity with him. Too soft. Not DuPont enough. He’s always hated me, just not enough to get rid of me. I was his last chance at a legacy. His last chance at another term to, once again, feed his addiction to power and status.
The elevator clicks and opens into the foyer that leads to the club, but I divert, moving around the halls until I approach the Sovereign Chamber. Two Chamber guards stand outside. One palms the weapon at his side, and the other holds up a hand.
“Congressman DuPont. Graves is expecting you. You will need to be swept before you enter.”
I already have my arms out, glaring at them as they pat me down.
When they’re finished, I proceed into the Sovereign Chamber, curling my lip as soon as my eyes connect with Graves. He’s seated at the semicircular cherrywood table of the Echelon Vanguard leadership. The senator folds his arms across his chest, and he leans back in the plush leather chair.
“Slade DuPont. Who would’ve thought we’d be here? And threatening my daughter no less.”
