Page 41 of Inside the Wicked

Has Kenna told him something? Is she a far more cunning spy than I thought and did she hear all my confessions to Silas in Lumina?

“I’m losing patience, dear,” Alistair says, taking off the small rectangular glasses he uses for reading. “By now I expected to have some hint that you’re moving forward and that you’ve arranged a meeting with Silas, even though I’d much rather have had one already.”

I observe his hand on Kenna. It seems relaxing for him, but not for her. She gives away nothing at all as her hands prop her up from behind and she keeps her back to me, staring off at the fire. It doesn’t feel like enough to make any firm assumptions.

“He’s a powerful and highly cautious man—it was always going to take time to win him over,” I say.

“And are you?”

“I think so.”

Alistair sighs—the kind bearing disappointment. “I don’t like uncertainty in those who work for me, Ana. Are you close to achieving my job or not?”

“Yes,” I amend.

I feel like a solider in front of him. He’s strict and emotionless.

“Then I expect to hear from Silas Balenhaizer by week’s end.”

The “or else”is implied, and my confidence shrinks at the countdown he’s placed on me.Shit. Fuck. Shit.

I have Silas willing to comply and meet with Alistair if I can find out about Kenna’s desire to be here—and right now, she seems pretty damn comfortable. Was he hoping she was here against her will? Will he decide the alliance with me is off if she’s happy working for Alistair?

Shit.I don’t want to imagine she’s been here all this time against her will, but I also fear I’ve lost my only hope with Silas, and in turn failed for Alistair in this job, if she isn’t.SHIT.

“Then we should go to Lumina tonight,” I say, speaking partially to Kenna.

She doesn’t look at me, and Alistair answers for her, running a hand up her calf, and only then does her leg stop swinging. Her shoulders lock a near undetectable fraction.

“My Kenna has another job tonight. I think by now you’re capable on your own. She only accompanied you thus far to ensure your safety.”

So much SHIT.

All the strings of my plan are fraying in my fingertips, and I’m grappling with my composure in the hope I can salvage it.

“How can you be sure I’m safe in there now?”

“If you’re doing your job right, you will be. Tell me, has he fucked you yet?”

My mouth drops open, and I think my dignity falls out of it. “No.”

Another of those long, disapproving stares. “Kenna tells me he’s very keen. I hope you’re not holding out on him. A man like Silas won’t hold out long before someone else comes along.”

I’m surprised Kenna would report anything positive. Silas and I have barely touched. He certainly hasn’t made any moves to suggest he’s interested in me that way, and he point-blank, no guessing needed, shot a guy through the hand to declare his interest in Kenna.

Perhaps that’s why she told Alistair the lie. She’s not interested in Silas. Maybe she’s already taken by Alistair. My stomach plummets as I remember how old she was when she first came here. Did he wait? Or does he indulge in the same villainy he spreads, like the monsters he feeds in his work?

I think I’m going to be sick.

“I’d better go get ready,” I say.

Alistair nods, dismissing me. I flash one last look at Kenna, but she’s as good as stone, an unfeeling, immobile statue, andthat disturbs me. So much I almost stay and try to insist again that I need her with me. But as Alistair looks at me, wondering why I’m still standing here, his dismissal turns to a warning, and I scurry out.

I rush to my room with a new urgency. Kenna doesn’t like me—she said Rhett deserved to die for leaving—but still, I can’t bear the thoughts that are wracking my mind right now. I need answers. I never expected to want to know the truth as much as Silas, but now each hour I don’t know her story feels heavier. So I dress quickly, and I head to Lumina Lounge.

When Silas looks up after his next pool shot, he doesn’t smile, but his eyes give away that he’s pleased to see me. Or at least I can pretend like it’s for me for a second before he straightens, surveying behind me, then plucks the cigarette from his mouth, casting the smoke over the balcony as he peers out in search of a particular stunning, prickly, black-haired woman.

The question bounces back to me in another glance, and I swear, it’s unnerving how much he speaks with his expressions alone.

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