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Ignoring Finn’s appeals for her to listen to him, Leticia crossed to Devon and tilted her head. “To your credit, you never asked him for anything. Never tried to impose yourself on us. I might have left you alone if the attempt to poison Pamela had worked—after all, I know what it’s like to be the child of an adulterer. But she survived the poisoning, and I can’t reach her now. The only way I can make Pamela suffer is by taking away the one thing she loves; the one thing she holds onto her sanity for.”
“Jolene won’t tell her I’m dead,” said Devon. “Pamela will never know.”
“But she’ll start to notice that you haven’t visited. She’ll either believe you’re dead or that you’ve abandoned her—either one of those things will send her over the edge. As such, I have no choice but to get rid of you.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Leticia. You wouldn’t have let me live,” Devon accused. “Like you said, you’re cleaning house.”
Leticia only smiled.
A knock came at the door.
“Help!” Finn bellowed toward the door. “We need help in here!”
Leticia rolled her eyes. “The walls are demon-hearing proof, idiot.”
The magickal weight confining Devon fluttered once more against her skin, and she felt it loosen a little more. Devon subtly tried to move her toes, and her heart slammed in her chest when she managed to wriggle them just a bit. Yeah, the magick’s hold was wearing off. Not enough to release any of the power demanding freedom, sadly, which meant it was probably still blocking Tanner from sensing that she was in danger.
No sooner had Jo opened the door a crack than Eric barged inside.
Finn’s gaze went soft with relief when he spotted his sentinel. “Eric!”
“You haven’t done it yet?” he barked at Leticia.
She gave the sentinel a haughty sniff. “I’m not going to rush something I’ve waited so long for.”
“Thorne’s hound will be back at some point,” said Eric, nostrils flaring. “If you want to make them suffer, you’d best get it done.”
“Eric,” began Finn. “What are doing?”
“He’s been on my side for quite some time, darling,” Leticia told Finn, stroking her hand down Eric’s chest. “He kept an eye on you for me. He was even good enough to broker deals for me using conduits. Yes, I know you had no idea he possessed that nifty ability to speak through others. There are lots of things you don’t know about me and Eric.”
“Tanner will know you were here,” said Devon. “He’ll pick up your scent.” And then hunt the bitch down and gut her open. The thought was so cheerful it almost made her smile.
“I don’t plan to run out and pretend I was never here. Eric and Jo will both back up my story that all four of us came to the building but that only Finn went inside to see you; he wanted privacy. Whenever Finn goes anywhere alone, he regularly checks in with Eric telepathically, assuring him that he’s fine. But this time, Finn didn’t contact him or respond to Eric’s telepathic calls. So, concerned, Eric went inside. He heard you two arguing—Finn was furious with you for the accusation you made against my Reena, you blamed him for your mother almost dying, you hated that he was refusing to hand over Asa, maybe you even blamed him for your mother’s mental state … Oh, yes, I like that. And then maybe he told you that you were a mistake; that you should never have been born; that Pamela was better off dead.
“Eric, so focused on trying to calm you both down, didn’t realize he’d left the door ajar … until someone came in and attacked. There was a struggle. Eric telepathed me, and I came rushing up here with Jo only to find you and Finn dead. I’ll have to injure Eric a little to make it look real, of course, but that can be done.” She patted the sentinel’s cheek gently. “I’ll make it up to you later.”
“You won’t pull it off,” clipped Devon.
“We’ll pull it off, I assure you.” Leticia sighed. “Sadly, I don’t have time to torture you, and it would certainly mess up my story if you had all sorts of injuries. However, that’s not to say I can’t still make you both suffer before I kill you. I’ve suffered plenty. So why shouldn’t you?” She glanced at Jo and clicked her fingers. “Give it to me.”
Devon would have backed up if she could have fucking moved.
“Here,” said Jo, putting a tiny bottle into Leticia’s hand.
The bitch opened the bottle and sprinkled the contents onto her hand. Dust. It was just dust. Leticia blew it at Devon and—
Six-year-old Devon plastered her small sweaty hands on the window, gasping for air. She’s not coming, she thought. No one was gonna come. No one was gonna get them out of the car. No one was gonna help them.
