My mouth was horribly, painfully dry, my tongue thick, and my head pounding with a slow, relentless pulse that made it impossible to concentrate on anything for too long.
I was on my side, staring straight at a silver, industrial drain. I scanned my surroundings, stomach churning.
Low ceiling. Devoid of any character.
I pushed myself upright, and the gray box of a room lurched, spinning in a sickening circle. The darkness edging my vision slowly receded, leaving me retching up that bitter, chemical taste that permeated my lungs and coated my mouth.
Smooth walls. No windows. A single heavy door reinforced with iron.
This was the sort of place you were brought to die. Where they asked questions and inflicted pain and askedmore questions, then hosed the blood down the drain when they were done.
I was barefoot in my underwear. No weapons.
In short, I was fucked.
“Godsdamn it,” I muttered, my voice echoing off the walls.
I could really use a glass of water right about now, and gods help these assholes when Dante got back to that room and found me gone. They’d better hope they didn’t leave a trail because he would make them suffer. Ialmostfelt sorry for them.
I forced myself onto my hands and knees. The drug hadn’t worn off—my entire body shook like I was made of rubber—but whoever kidnapped me would be back soon, and I had to move.
I scanned the concrete room for anything I could use as a weapon. There, by the far wall. A pile of something metal. Seemed like a good option, at least to my fuzzy brain. I crawled away from that drain and was almost to the pile—realizing it was a long chain—when the door opened.
I froze, every instinct sharpening despite the fog still clinging to my thoughts.
Giovanni closed the door behind him with a soft, deliberate click. There was nothing hurried or uncertain in the way he moved. He was in control, and I was not.
“Oh, good, you’re awake,” he said, in the same pleasant tone as if we were about to have breakfast at the palazzo.
I forced my shaking limbs to cooperate as I arranged myself into a sitting position and met his gaze. “Do you drug all your guests,” I asked, “or should I feel honored?”
A faint hint of amusement touched his placid expression.
“Only the ones who cost me a great deal of trouble and money.”
Well, knowing I was a thorn in his side made me feel much better. “Good to know there are still some things you care about in this world, given you sold your soul a long time ago.”
His eyes flashed. “Dear niece, I haven’t had a soul in quite some time. I find them… bothersome, at best.”
He closed the distance between us with deliberate ease, sandaled feet silent on the smooth floor, the bottom of his brown robe swishing. There were no visible guards, but that didn’t mean we were alone.
It just meant I wasn’t a threat.
“You stole from me, Emberline,” he said, his tone the same as when he used to scold me as a child before smoothing into something crueler. “Now, tell me where you’ve hidden the Basin.”
I grinned up at him, letting the silence stretch.The fucker could wait.
“Now, Emberline. I do not have the patience to play games with you.”
“Joke’s on you, uncle,” I finally said. “I don’t have a clue where it is.”
For the first time, something shifted in his expression. A flash of anger gave way to amusement, a cunning smile curving his lips, his round face shining.
At some unspoken signal, the door opened, and Bruno stepped in, Rocco’s henchman squeezing his bulky body through the opening, pushing a metal table on wheels, the contents rattling loudly.
Part of his hair was burned off, and still-healing blisters covered half his face.
“Then,” Giovanni said quietly, motioning Bruno towards me, “this will be significantly more unpleasant for you than I originally intended.”
