Page 92 of The Masked King

The armed guard ends at the doorway to the piano room.

“You can stand down now.” I address Malevsky’s men. “I’ve got it from here.”

Voices I recognize reach me from the other side of the door, and that’s when the first sliver of ice crawls down my spine and spits on the fire inside me.

24

DEMI

“Bianca?”

She’s bound to a chair in the middle of the piano room when Malevsky drags me back along the hallway. I don’t know how she got here, or what any of this has to do with her, but my brain is rapidly recalibrating everything I know so far with Enzo’s sister thrown into the equation.

Now, I’m certain it was Bianca I saw at the casino. Her presence here isn’t random, so she’s either backup leverage if I’m not enough, or Malevsky caught her snooping and decided to kill two birds with one stone.

Literally.

“Are you hurt?” I ask as Malevsky pulls up another seat, places it back-to-back with Bianca’s, and shoves me into it while one of his men winds a rope around my arms and chest and secures it behind me.

No answer.

“Why is she here?” I need to keep Malevsky talking while my brain figures out the missing pieces.

He got angry with me in the den for pointing out questions he should’ve raised before he began this vendetta against the Sabatellis, because he knows I’m right, but I’ll take his anger over Bianca’s silence any day. Malevsky might be a deadly serpent, but at least he attacks with his fangs bared, whereas everything I know about Bianca portrays her as a silent reptile sneaking up on her prey from behind and attacking while they sleep.

Cold realization explodes inside my head.

She attacks while they sleep.

I’d expected to feel pity for her the first time we were introduced. She’d lost the love of her life, her home, her children, and her own brothers had disowned her for her part in the deaths of their parents. But when I met her with Megan, not even the soulless apartment and the luggage waiting to be collected, could conjure some empathy from me.

Some people are born with darkness in their souls, so solid, the light never quite manages to get through. It was my first impression of Bianca, and nothing has happened to change my mind since.

And here she is, somehow involved in the Bratva vendetta against her brothers.

Coincidence?

“Why take down two Sabatellis when you can take down three?” Malevsky shrugs.

“You won’t win,” Bianca snaps. “Even if you walk out of here today believing you’re the victor, your family will suffer on your behalf.”

I don’t see Malevsky raise his arm, but I hear the snap of her head as the back of his hand connects with her cheek. Her laughter follows, brittle as old bones.

“My family has suffered enough because of you,” Malevsky’s words reach me from somewhere out of sight.

“Your cousin and I had an arrangement. If he’d kept his side of the deal…”

Back-to-back with Bianca, I can only picture her through her voice, and right now, she sounds like a snarling dog warning the bad guy to stay away. Even knowing what I know about her, I can’t help but admire her guts.

“A deal is only a deal if it benefits both parties,” Malevsky says, voice filled with malice.

“A deal is only a deal if one party isn’t a lying fucking coward,” Bianca counters.

I flinch. If she’s deliberately trying to bait him, it’s working. I half-expect him to shoot her before I can take a breath and reassemble my thoughts around whatever deal they’re discussing, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he laughs, the sound like claws dragging across my bones. “You’ve got balls, lady.”

“Mrs. D’Angelo to you,” Bianca snaps.