Page 58 of Falcon's Prey

The night before the parade,I laid on my bed, twisting and turning, anxious to see what the day would bring. I had a dress brought to me…except this year, I wasn’t allowed to wear face paint. It would make me too easy to blend in, and that was the last thing Silas wanted. He did relent and had his assistant bring me a makeup palette and fake black flowers. He even got me some diamond earrings.

After all, who was Ember Remington without her diamonds? I was no one. Plain and simple. I had been reduced to an object in someone’s house.

Just then, I heard said someone walking down the hallway. I closed my eyes and clutched the pillow, knowing that it wouldn’t matter if I was awake or sleeping. Most of the time, nightmares didn’t happen at night or when you were sleeping. Nightmares happened while you were awake, and you remembered every dreaded second and replayed it over and over again in your sleep.

The worst part was, nightmares didn’t always start as nightmares; sometimes, they were dreams.

When the door creaked, the blood in my veins froze. My body wanted to quake with fear, or maybe ask for more drugs to numb the pain that was to follow.

Because the pain was a reminder of how far I had fallen from grace.

“I know you’re awake,” he chastised me as I heard him take off his clothes.

I remained silent, knowing that speaking didn’t help my case. I heard the bed creak, and mentally, I tried to brace myself. He moved like a snake, silent but deadly, striking when I least expected. When I met his dark shadow, I wanted to not fight and just let him use me as he pleased for one more night.

But why should he get my complicity? Why should he get my surrender? There was a reason diamonds were created with pressure, and to make a tiny jewel yield, you had to cut it many times. They were indestructible.

His breathing stopped for a second as he waited to see if I was going to finally give in to his promises. The things a foolish little girl believed. I was weak, looking for love in all the wrong places, and all I found were sins. He wanted to own me without telling me why. I wanted to fly and never be bound to any man.

We clashed.

If this was my last time with him, I wanted him to feel my hate. To feel the rage he provoked when he put his flesh on me. I hit him even if it was in vain. Scratching, biting, and pulling hair, we became savage beasts seeking dominance. He told me I was his, whether I wanted him or not. I told him I’d rather be dead. Through the dark, I saw his sadistic grin. I thought he’d half fuck me to death, but what he did was much worse.

He went soft on me when I wanted him to keep being brutal.

He reminded me that he knew my body as well as I knew it myself.

When I came, I felt hatred and loathing all for myself.

As he walked away, I swore that, one way or another, Silas was going to die.

The airon my skin felt divine, prickling my pores and breathing life into me. My eyes still burned from the sleepless night. And right now, I tried not to think of all the things I had to live through in the confinement of my luxurious penthouse.

“This way,” Gio said.

He grabbed my arm, dragging me into the car.

I followed him, trying not to get my hopes up because I didn’t think my soul could handle the deception.

This morning as I got ready, Silas came in and reminded me not to do anything stupid.

He gripped my chin and said, “You try to leave me, and I’ll do everything shy of killing you.”

I bit my tongue, trying hard not to think of last night. When Gio and the other security that was set to accompany were set to take me to the parade, I was happy to follow them.

Now I sat in the back of one of Silas’s Explorers. Gio was next to me while one man drove, and there was another in the passenger seat. Every precaution was taken when I was escorted. I looked down at my black dress and played with the skirt. It was a traditional Mexican dress, with red ribbons weaved at the bottom and at the collar of the dress. On my head, I wore a crown of black flowers, with red eyeshadow on my face, and, much to Silas’s dismay, I had outlined a Catrina—sugar skull candy as Americans referred to it. I looked like Death’s wife, ready to go back to the underworld.

I wanted to relish the feel of the car—the way it vibrated under my skin, the blur of the skyscrapers, and the mindless people walking by. Still, my mind kept going back to Dr. Wozniak.

Everything today depended on him if he could follow instructions to a T. In the folder he would find instructions on how to log into the dark web. He would discover how to navigate it, and lastly, in the notes in bold red, I had put the sigil for the webpage I had accessed months ago.

So if the doctor did as I asked, he would hire the hitman I had talked to months ago.

He didn’t care for the motive; he just wanted his money. He did his job, and I wasn’t above rewarding him generously.

If all went well, Silas would die, and I would have the last laugh. The only thing that would let me have a shred of sanity in this whole mess.

The closer we pulled toward the parade, the more people dressed with Death’s face could be seen—so many colors bringing life to a holiday honoring the dead. When the car finally stopped, I took a deep breath. First, I was going to walk up to the vendors to get a candle for my mother. If it was true and the veil between the two worlds was thin, then I hoped she heard my prayers.

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