Then her pocket buzzes. And that bright beam burns like a wick, melting her mouth into a sober line as she lifts her phone with a slight tremor in her hands.
Clarity strikes me like a bullet to the chest, leaving me breathless. She never asked for this life, this hand of spades. Her father dealt them to her. I’d wager every last penny to the Bourbon name he never asked if she wanted to keep her hearts instead. He just took them away, robbing her of every dream she ever had.
Because of him, she will never have a normal life.
I immediately want to pulverize whoever is on the other end of that text. Especially if it’s Alexander Morgenstern.
Eyes wide, Poppy breathes, “Kuso.”
“What?” I bark, not bothering to sound pleasant.
She tosses the phone to me. “Notice anything familiar?”
I play the clip featuring a hooded man tossing Jett, dead and bloody, into the alleyway dumpster she was found in. He’s tall and lean, his physique similar to the assassin stored in my studio. “A Volkov?”
She nods. “Malakai.”
I toss the phone back to her. “Looks like you found your mole.”
Poppy grins, and it’s the most infernal expression I’ve ever seen on a woman. “Cats eat moles, don’t they?”
My own smile mirrors hers. Her wickedness is contagious, her allure all-consuming. Even if she didn’t choose this life, she’s certainly embraced the silver linings. Her passion is punishing the corrupt, in which we have in common. “Enjoy your meal,Petit Diable.”
“Oh, I assure you,monsieur.I intend to savor every last bite.”
DEMONS
Brontë
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dantë barks, his shout echoing in the otherwise silent kitchen. “You’ve been at this forweeks,and all you have is old news of Margot falling off the face of the fucking planet?”
Emi bristles, squaring her shoulders. “Would you rather I make something up to make you feel better?”
“Excusez-moifor being a little disappointed. I expected more from the best.”
“Funny, that almost sounded like a compliment.”
Dantë pinches the bridge of his nose. “There must be more you can do.”
“I did all I humanly could. I’m a hacker, not a witch.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Emi scoffs. “Your brother should’ve eaten you in the womb.”
My twin opens his mouth for another damning riposte, and I clap his shoulder, squeezing in warning until he winces. “Brother, might I suggest you take a breath and let this lovely woman explain?”
Dantë rubs his eyes. “Désolé,Remiel. This isn’t an easy pill to swallow.”
Emi clears her throat, pulling a stack of papers from her shoulder bag and setting them on the island. “This is a compilation of Margot’s digital footprint: emails, texts, online purchases, social media posts,etcetera. She was active up until last year, when she submitted her resignation at St. Aurelius’s and disappeared.”
“Fled,” Dantë corrects her quietly, sifting through the papers. “Shefledlast February. On Valentine’s Day.”
“Which leads me to my next point.”
Emi draws her laptop, fingers spidering across the keys. She twists the screen, showing us a soundless clip of Margot flashing Mama’s invaluable opaline ring at the camera as Dantë kisses the edge of her sunshine smile.
I watch him from my periphery. Utter agony radiates from his gaze as he watches himself play on a loop with her in his arms.
