Page 257 of Rage

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt when the headlights of a sleek black Mercedes stopped before her. A man stepped out; handsome with dark brown hair curling against his forehead and harsh, green eyes that flattened against Scarlett’s face. The first time Liam Caldwell retrieved her, he’d given her that same stare; something that made her insides churn with nerves. But then he smiled, and the darkness fluttered away, replacing his features with a softness crafted by the gods.

“Most chauffeurs make sure Darlings know their place,”she’d once said boldly.

“Good thing you don’t,”he returned.

And from that day on, they became something of friends.

Liam came around to pop the passenger door open. “You look beautiful, Ms. Emerson.” Formal. Stern. Straightforward.

The cars were tapped. Ever since a Driver and a Darling left Nameless City, the First Heir found himself struck with grief. No matter how many Interlopers he sent after them, their heads came back in boxes with pretty bows and their bodies were never found. If Liam had something to say, he’d have to get creative. And shifting his tone to that strong, stoic chauffeur that servedthe city’s darkest family with a scar gnarling his bottom lip would do just that.

Scarlett sank into the plush leather of his car, grateful for the seat warmers soothing heat. The interior was toasty, jazz music played softly in the background, and the tinted windows offered a rare sense of privacy, what little she could ever hope for.

Liam returned to his seat and pulled the car onto the main highway. Then, for five minutes, the two only communicated through idle glances. She, peeking at him with an arch to her left brow, and he, subtly fixing the rearview mirror, the jewels on his pinky, ring, and middle finger clicking against the surface.

Morse code.

“YOUNGEST BROTHER DEAD. MIDDLE SISTER BACK.”

Scarlett’s hand closed around the clutch of her purse.

It’d been a long time since the Singhs were at war. The last Scarlett had witnessed was two sparring matriarchs. Fatima, wife of the late-king Omar, and Amina, Mother of Heirs. They sat at the war table with a map of Nameless City unfurled before them. Little pawns dyed in white, black, and red were scattered across the three districts. From all of this emerged the matriarch’s true calling, one that became clear shortly after Omar’s assassination.

Nameless City needed a new heir.

Fatima wanted it for herself.

Amina wanted it for her child.

The halls of the Dark Palace ran red with blood.

Then, the streets followed.

Scarlett was moved to Upper Encino where favored Darlings hid in suites that day. The news that came in was horrendous. Fire catching, gunshots ringing, Federation sirens screaming throughout the night.

Scarlett would never forget what it was like when daylight came creeping through the broken curtains.

Where young Darlings slept huddled together, she’d stayed up, awake, suspicious of the Interloper meant to guard them.

Amina was alive and well. The righteous colors of a new dawn clung to men and women—Servants of Cerberus, so they were called. Any man who had beseeched his loyalty to Fatima Singh, Maharani of the Birzan Dynasty, were dead and so were his greatest legacies.

House Mistresses hung from street lamps. Dolls were raped and killed. Esteemed estates from West Hall to South Gate were set ablaze, no child spared. Gambling dens were pillaged of their worth, the flesh of priestesses torn from their bodies, bullet farms and the slaves that labored within blown sky-high.

It was mayhem.

It was carnage.

It was insidious.

When Scarlett left with the Darlings that were spared their life, she knelt before Amina and couldn’t bring herself to meet a gaze made from vengeance and fear. Because any woman that would torture another was no woman at all, just a monster cut from the same cloth as Man.

Athunk!brought Scarlett back to the present. She was still in Liam’s car, roused by the great sound of his ring clattering against the vent where the pleasant heat had suddenly become suffocating. “Our rajkumar has done well dressing you for the night. I’d think a gown like that would come with a mask.”

With a small smile, Scarlett retrieved the mask from behind her clutch. She’d held onto the two like a lifeline while waiting for her chauffeur. Alas, with Liam’s eyes beaming at the sight, she couldn’t help but say, “Our rajkumar forgot all about it. I can’t blame him. He’s had a lot on his mind.” A swift cover-up. “I went with Margot to the Moon Market and had it custom-made.”

His fingers thwacked against the vent again.

“DAINTY AND SWEET TONIGHT. NO EXCESS TALKING. TENSION IN THE AIR.”

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