Dom, Beckett, Zane, and I remain in the study, wondering what Aria has planned for us. I can tell the others are anxious, but I’m not. I truly believe I can handle whatever she throws my way.
The door to the study slides open, and a familiar masked figure strides into the room.
I know that the woman behind the mask is Aria, yet all I can see is The Divine One—the entity who once appeared larger than life, who murdered and tortured and destroyed everyone around me. Fear causes my heart to race, my palms turning damp.
Aria lifts her hands and pushes back her hood, revealing her sweat-slick blonde hair. She then removes her mask, allowing it to hang limply at her side. Her cheeks are flushed, but I know it’s not a product of alcohol or drugs. I can’t imagine The Divine One would ever let loose enough to actually enjoy the festivities she puts on. She’s always on alert, always gauging the reactions of others, always searching for the closest threat.
Glee lights her smile as she focuses on me. “Ellie, are you ready for your performance?”
My stomach swoops upward, attempting to displace my lungs.
“What are you going to have me do?” Nebulous fear tiptoes up my neck, and I find myself moving closer to Zane, pressing against him. His arms band around me instantly, caging me in.
Aria’s cold eyes narrow on me. “What type of person do you think I am? What type ofmother? I’m not a monster. I’m not going to have you do anything…uncouth.” She gives me a pitying shake of her head, like she thinks it’s unbearably sad that I jumped to these conclusions. “You’re a musician, correct? According to Fischer and some of my other sources, you’re quite good.”
“She’s the best,” Dom pipes in, a hint of pride seeping into his voice, despite our situation.
Molten pleasure arcs through me at his compliment. A flush enters my cheeks.
“I’m decent,” I correct.
Aria’s smile tightens. “Don’t be modest, my daughter. It’s okay to admit you’re the best.” She steps forward, her heels clicking on the wooden floorboards, and lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Our family has always been the best.”
Oh. Yuck.
Does she even hear herself when she talks?
Aria straightens and slides her mask back into place. She reaches for her hood next, securing it around her head and tucking away any loose flyaway hairs.
“Now…” Her mechanical voice—a product of the voice box in the mask—grates on me. It slices at my skin like the dull edge of a blade, sharp enough to cut but not necessarily draw blood. “Shall we head out?”
19
ELLIE
The first thing I notice as we retrace our steps to the grand ballroom is that most of the staff has left. Only a few remain in the kitchen, slicing, cutting, and pouring drinks.
The reasoning becomes apparent when we finally enter the gaudy ballroom, with the dangling chandeliers, floor-to-ceiling windows, and intricately engraved filigree.
The men and women working in the kitchen—and the ones who willingly wore masks at the last POP event—were hired by The Divine One. They knewexactlywhat they had signed up for, and while they may not have agreed with it, they still served willingly.
But the men and women carrying trays of champagne flutes now?
I… I don’t think they’re willing.
Most of them are naked or wearing such little clothing they might as well be.
A gaunt-looking woman walks by holding a tray in trembling hands, her thin body covered in bruises and bloody gashes thatappear fresh, only a few days old. She’s naked but bedecked in jewelry—a dozen necklaces of various sizes that dip directly between her bare breasts, some bracelets on her wrists, and a few golden chains on her ankles.
Masked assholes grab at her as she walks by, though she doesn’t react in the slightest, her expression carefully blank.
Dead.
One grabs a fistful of her ass and squeezes. Another palms her breast. Another pinches her nipple.
I count at least a dozen naked men and women in the room. All with the same deadened expression, like they’ve given up on fighting.
I wonder if Reece is here.
