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"My father—Nero's father—wasn't there at the wedding," Hadria is saying. I lift my head a little, dull eyes focusing on her. "Do you know why?"
That's one thing I actuallydoknow, because my father was very angry about it, and I'd hoped for a very brief period that it might save me. "Don Imperioli didn't approve," I whisper.
"Ofyou?" She gives a scoffing laugh. "A pretty little virgin with Italian blood. What more could Papa have possibly asked for, as far as Nero went?"
I swallow. "I think…he thought I wouldn't be…"
"Ah," she says, and her eyes travel me head to foot again. "He thought you wouldn't be tough enough. Well, the old man was right about that." I stare hard at the coffee table, because I know she's waiting for a reaction. "That's all for now," Hadria says atlast, standing up. "You may go—back to your room, I think. I'll have food sent up to you."
She turns and leaves before I do.
I sit for a moment in a daze, my mind spinning. I'm not even sure where my bedroom is in this place—it's so big, and all the corridors are the same dark, polished concrete. But when I step into the hallway, the blonde woman leans casually against the wall outside, examining her nails.
"This way, Suzy," she drawls, pushing off and striding down the corridor without looking back.
I scurry to catch up, trying to memorize the route. Left, right, through an arched doorway, then another corridor… But it's no use. The house is a labyrinth of identical hallways and closed doors.
And we pass window after window, all shuttered against the outside.
"Do the windows stay coveredalways?" I ask tentatively.
The woman—Lyssa, I think I heard Hadria call her—snorts. "You heard her. Boss prefers to run her kingdom in the dark. And she doesn't want anyone setting eyes onyou, little sunbeam."
We arrive at the double doors that I recognize from earlier, and Lyssa shoulders them open to reveal the suite Hadria assigned to me.
My jail cell.
"Home sweet home," Lyssa quips. With an ominous wink, she pivots and stalks away. The doors swing shut behind her with an air of grim finality.
She doesn't lock it. But I have no desire at all to go back out and wander around. I'll just get lost, and then—probably—punished.
I think back to Hadria's cold gray eyes, her imposing demeanor. Shekidnappedme, and yet I feel a pang in my chest. Pity for someone who surrounds herself with darkness and solitude. What traumas lurk in her past, shaping her into this damaged woman that she's become?
And despite everything, being here—a prisoner—is still preferable when I think about the alternative. A life spent in silent servitude to Nero Imperioli…
Or here, with his sister.
Shaking my head, I sit on the bed. She's just as bad as he is, of course. I know all about what Hades and the Styx Syndicate have done. And it's foolish to waste sympathy on my captor. Isn't it? She's given me no reason to feel anything but fear and anger.
Still…
The image of her haunted eyes lingers in my mind.
CHAPTER 8
Hadria
A few daysafter I took Aurora for my own, I stand in my personal study just off the war room and watch the latest surveillance footage of Nero. He's been rampaging since I took Aurora from him. Oh, he'sfurious, seething with rage at the audacity of his long-forgotten sister's move, unnerved to have me reappear after all these years, and all of Chicago is suffering from his tantrum.
And I know he is humiliated, too. Evenhehas used Hades' services from time to time, without knowing who it was that he'd hired. I know secrets that would put a target on his back from every player in town.
And I know all oftheirsecrets, too. I've been collecting them over the years, storing them up until the time presented itself. My identity was my most closely guarded secret. I wanted the revelation to be ground-shaking—and it was, by all accounts. Every criminal outfit in the city has been talking about it.
Aboutme.
So the cat's out of the bag. And now it's time to skin it.
But despite my focus on business these last few days, my thoughts keep wandering back to Aurora. There's an innocence about her, a vulnerability that tugs at something deep within me, makes me want to stamp out the light in her—but can't bring myself to do it.
