That didn’t mean he wouldn’t hurt her first.
His grip on her throat tightened. She let out an involuntary sputter.
“You will die tonight,” he growled. While he spoke, she managed to lift her calf up and hooked her finger around the strap of her heel. She carefully slid it off her foot, trying not to lose her grip on it. She was dizzy from lack of air. “It will be long. It will be painful. The last time there were two players, the Phoenix Club didn’t get to have their fun. I told them this time they could have it with you.”
Enne knew exactly which game Sedric was referring to—the night Gabrielle had played to save her daughter’s life. As anger flooded through her, Enne squeezed the heel and, with all the force she could muster, jammed it into his eye.
Sedric howled, letting go of her and covering his eye with his hands. Bloody tears dripped down his cheek. “Youbitch,” he snarled.
Enne shoved him away and frantically bent down, breathing heavily and feeling around for the leather case. She found it and slid off the lid. She had only just gotten a grip on the syringe when Sedric kicked her in the side, sending her sprawling.
Then he grabbed her by the front of her dress and hoisted her to her feet. His left eye was squeezed shut, but there was so much blood, Enne couldn’t be sure there was much of an eye left. His other arm aimed, ready for a punch. Before he could take a swing at her, she kicked him in the groin and slid out of his grasp.
She landed face-down on the grass, the syringe still clutched in her first.
When she looked up, Sedric had his revolver pointed at her. He clutched his eye with one hand, and there was a feral look in his other. He laughed madly. “You really should’ve let me have my fun.”
Then he pulled the trigger.
Click.
His cursed and opened the revolver’s empty compartment. Then he looked at her, his eyes wide, as she lunged forward and stabbed the syringe into his leg.
She wouldnotbe his victim tonight.
He would be hers.
Within moments, his limp body fell on top of her, his stomach on her back. She grunted and pushed him off, disgusted by the feel of him against her. He rolled over in the grass, staring with one eye into nothing.
She shakily got to her feet and looked down at his body. She felt no remorse. Not for him, not even for herself. Rather than breaking her, her surrender left her cold and steady with anger, with resolve.
Enne picked up the envelope Sedric had given her before he’d slapped her. He’d said something about two players, which meant Levi was inside—alive, but preparing to play the Shadow Game. If she was going to save him, she needed to join him in the House of Shadows.
She picked the revolver up from the ground. She only had three bullets. From the way the music carried, she assumed the House of Shadows was far from empty. Could she burst into the room, gun raised, and force Semper to let Levi escape? Would that be enough? Or would she be shot down herself before she had a chance?
She loaded the revolver and tucked it into her pocket. Her fingers brushed against the cool ribbon of the black satin mask Lola had given her. She pulled it out and tied it around her eyes, same as she’d done at Scrap Market. The mask covered very little of her face, but it offered at least a small amount of protection. If she and Levi managed to make it out of this alive, then no one could know who she was—otherwise, the Phoenix Club would easily discover it was she who’d slain Sedric Torren.
With her lipstick reapplied and her blood-stained heel back on, Enne knocked on the front door of the House of Shadows.
A huge man opened the door, and the loud music from inside blasted through her ears.
He blinked at her for a few moments, and then his jaw dropped. “It’s you,” Shark said, his golden tooth glinting.
Enne tensed as she recognized him—one of the whiteboots from her first day in New Reynes. He knew that she had a connection to Lourdes, the woman they’d killed here only the week before. He’d seen her without her mask.
Her mind blanked except for one, desperate idea.
She took out the revolver, aimed it between his eyes and pulled the trigger.
The noise and force of it startled her so much she yelped. His body thudded to the floor, and she stood there for a few moments, her pulse a violent current, ready for someone to come running. No one did. She wondered if anyone had even heard over all the music, which pulsed loud enough to drown out everything.
She stepped over his body and the pooling blood to enter the House. The cold shell inside of her hardened with each step. Apparently she’d left her soul back at Luckluster—probably back in Bellamy.
The air smelled strongly of several kinds of smoke, and she scrunched her nose and tried to blow away the odor with the envelope. A light shone in the next room, but the hallway was otherwise cast in darkness. She shoved the revolver in her dress as she made her way through the House.
A few men lying on the carpet glanced up blankly as she entered, but their attention was quickly recaptured by a giant pipe shaped like a candlestick on the table before them. Enne eyed a stairwell in the far corner of the room. A sinister force pulled her in that direction, guiding her toward her demise. She began to climb, her hand sliding up the smooth ebony railing.
There was a single door at the top of the stairs. Behind it, she heard a rhythmic ticking, like a clock or a heartbeat. She hitched her breath and turned the knob, opening the door cautiously.
