Page 13 of Devil’s Reign

“Yes,” I confirm. “I took care of his problematic partners. While I was doing that, Lyev handled any potential scandals waiting to surface.”

Dima whistles softly. “Just how many people did we have to get rid of to create a clean path for Salvatore?”

“Enough to ensure there won’t be problems once the election starts.”

Lyev is Vasily's older brother—my other cousin. Where Vasily excels at technology, Lyev specializes in making people disappear. One erases lives. The other erases the evidence. Together, they’re seamless.

“So anybody digging into his past for dirt won’t find any?” Aleksei probes.

“There’s no dirt to find, Aleksei. I took care of it.”

“How did Salvatore take it?”

“He followed through. Got rid of his partners on camera exactly as we agreed.” Well, one of them. I had to handle the other one myself when Melani appeared. I curse silently at the memory. “He knows if he even attempts to betray us, I’m releasing that video to every major news outlet, along with all the dirt we conveniently made vanish. He’ll cooperate.”

“Good. Good job, Vanya.”

I shrug even though he can’t see me. “When haven’t I done a good job, Pakhan?”

“And we’re sure there are no complications?” Dima cuts in. “Nothing that could come back to bite us?”

My thoughts drift to the little mouse I’ve got caged in the spare room. “No, Dimitri. No complications.” None that concerns them, anyway. Melani Monti is my business, and I’ll be dealing with her my way. “James Salvatore will declare his interest in running tomorrow.”

“Great. Hopefully this will reduce the support Daniel Salvi’s been garnering and give him some healthy competition.”

“It will, Dima. You give Daniel Salvi too much credit.” He’s nothing more than a current moving with the waves. Right now, those waves are popularity, and he’d be smart to milk it while he can. Because sooner or later, they will crash on the shore and give way to a new wave. Obscurity.

Too bad we can’t kill the fucker. It would be bad PR given what his campaign is all about. But then again, there are worse things than death.

7

MELANI

Maybe I shouldn’t have run my mouth at the man who handcuffed me.

I should have buttered him up, coaxed him into undoing these damn cuffs. I sigh wearily, attempting to roll my shoulders and restore some circulation. It barely helps. I can’t even knock on the door to get his attention—not that I’m delusional enough to think that would accomplish anything.

I wander further into the room, taking it in properly now. The space radiates understated wealth, from the beige walls to the stunning city-at-night wallpaper stretching behind the big bed. Side tables flank it on either side, each topped with art deco lamps. A soft-looking rug, probably expensive as hell, runs the length of the bed, and off to the side sits a small dining table with two chairs, paired with a double sofa.

I don’t think I’ve ever been in a room this beautiful and tastefully furnished in my whole life. Too bad it’s just a cage.

My feet carry me towards the wall-length window, and the view steals the breath right out of my lungs. Manhattan spreads out beneath me, glittering and endless, almost perfectly mirroring the cityscape frozen behind the bed. We have to be on the top floor. The penthouse level.

“This is how the rich and wealthy live, huh?” I mutter to myself, mesmerized despite my situation. Then I force myself to look away from the hypnotic view and start searching for a possible way out. If I had thought I might slip out through the window, that idea is dead now. No way I would survive jumping from this height. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not suicidal.

Would being here really be so bad, though? I’d be in this luxurious room, safe from the enemies hunting me. If I play my cards right—play him right—I could find out what happened to Luciano and maybe even come up with a plan to save him.

But what about Mamma? Each time she leaves for ‘work’, I worry she won’t make it home. That someone will recognize her. That she’ll disappear next. And what happens if I don’t come home tonight? Would she know it wasn’t my choice? Or would she think she’s losing me too, so soon after Luciano went missing? God, she’ll be crushed. She can’t lose both her children.

A throbbing headache blooms at my temple, the pressure building until I have to squeeze my eyes shut. I need to sit. Or lie down. Anything to make it stop. The bed calls to me like a siren song, and when I sink onto it, I nearly moan at the softness. It’s like being cradled by clouds. For a brief, stupid second, I let myself believe maybe I can sleep. I tip forward and end up sprawled face-down, arms stretched uselessly behind me.

The position is awkward. there’s no way I’ll fall asleep like this, which means I’m in for a long, miserable night with nothing to distract me but my own thoughts.

I bury my face deeper into the mattress, twisting slightly, trying to find some version of tolerable that won’t make my shoulders scream—and that’s when my bladder decides to join the party. Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

How the hell am I supposed to pull down my panties to pee with my hands cuffed behind me? The question opens the door to darker thoughts. I’ve been deluding myself that I’m somehow safer here, but the truth is I barely know anything about Ivan Petrov beyond the meager scraps I could find online. What if he still plans to kill me? What if this is some sort of psychological torture designed to break me?

If he really thinks I’m a spy, that might be exactly what he’s doing. Leave the little spy in a pretty room, let her marinate in discomfort and fear all night, and by morning she’ll spill every secret she has for the simple promise of removing the handcuffs.