Page 27 of Ink Deep Devotion

“No, I mean yes, no,” I nod because my tongue has refused to work.

He lowers his gaze slightly, like a god perched on a cloud, lazily looking over the edge of the fluffy white horizon to observe how humans struggle to do basic tasks. A click of his tongue hashis chin raising north again.“Assumptions can lead to deadly outcomes. It’s best to be certain.”

His eyes float to the almost empty glass in my hand, but he says nothing. We’re locked in this bizarre silence as those surrounding us wait with bated breath to see what Marcus will say next.

“You’re smaller than I thought.” He finally admits.

What’s that supposed to mean?

“You’re…You’re as tall as the rumors make you out to be.” I don’t even know what I just said, but he didn’t kill me yet, so there’s that.

A laugh plays at the corners of his lips.“Sometimes it’s the smallest of things that can give us hope. A light flickering in a long, dark tunnel is better than just darkness.”

“Sometimes hope is just a cruelty to make you suffer longer.”Your son taught me that.

“It’s when we’re suffering that we find our inner strength. I hope you found yours. I think you’re going to need it.” His eyes look me up and down, measuring me.

“Is that why you did it?” I sneer, catching him off guard.

He steps closer, looking down at his cufflinks.“You’ll have to refresh my mind. I’ve done so many things lately that it’s hard to keep track.”

My voice comes back because it’s fueled by rage. I wish I could channel this all the time. Scream and shout instead of stumbling over my words as I whisper. So I take advantage, knowing it won’t last.“I think you keep score just fine.” I rebuttal.Just like your son did.“Is that why you sent Dash to Silverstone to participate in The Cleansing? So he could suffer and find his inner strength?”

I want to see you squirm!I want it for Dash, wherever he is, if he’s truly alive. I want that abused boy to watch his mentor, who failed him, suffer.

“Careful. You drank a lot of bubbles, but bubbles can be popped in an instant.” He accentuates theP, causing my heart to skip a beat.“Don’t let the Champagne go to your head. It didn’t give you confidence; it made you impulsive. Alcohol tends to do that. I suggest finding something that lasts longer to fuel your tongue.” His smirk is as cold and sharp as a dagger fresh from a whetstone.

I’m reminded that I am not a chess player; I don’t plan and plot. I move and pray I’ll remain on the board, but the devil hears my prayers and answers the opposite of them.

The clearing of my throat sounds more like a car backfired, but I persist.“Why won’t you answer my original question?”Tell me you’re a monster who sent your son to die.

“Because I don’t have to.” He chuckles, and his laugh rings out like the bars of a prison cell closing, locking all his secrets inside.

Then he meets my stare again. My heart stops as he digs deep into my mind, just like his son did. His pupils dilate like the tip of a shovel swinging down to dig into me, unearth my roots, and pluck me clean from the soil I have tried to hide under.

Then, the most bizarre thing happens. No, he didn't kill me as I expected. He dips his chin and prepares to turn.

“Marcus,” I reach out, grabbing his elbow. Swiftly, four bodyguards step out, surrounding us. Marcus nods and they stand down like obedient dogs.

“You’re brave.” He mutters, his eyes lock on my hand grasping him.

I tip my chin up.“So was Dash,” I just want his father to know that. Deep down, I know Dash was broken because he lacked his father’s approval in some form.

Do I hate Dash? Yes and no. It’s complicated, but I need his father to know that the boy who crushed me was brave. After all, not everyone walks away from The Cleansing.

Marcus’s throat rolls.“He’s many things I am not.”

Present tense. It stuns my ears. Why couldn’t I believe Dante? I suppose I just needed to hear it from Marcus.

Dash is alive.

My fingertips press into his arm; it’s like pushing into a diamond. He won’t bend or break; no, he only grows stronger under the pressure.“What do you want?” I ask.Why did you approach me?

His eyes break contact with mine as they roam over my face like an asteroid, deciding on where to make an impact first.Should I make her lips tremble with a scream, her cheeks pucker with the malice sour note of my threats? Where should I attack?

Like any skilled predator, he stabs me where I least expected it. My heart.“I want my son to have what I had.” He leans close to whisper in my ear.“Without the consequences.”

He pulls away suddenly, leaving breadcrumbs for me to follow if I dare. A flex of his arm causes my grip to slip like a rope left to dwindle on the side of an abandoned ship.

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