Page 17 of Avidian
Anton’s gravelly voice booms from the front steps, catching all of us off guard. “I think you’ve had enough air.”
We all turn to see him standing there. His dark eyes sweep over the scene, unreadable but heavy with authority.
“I will be taking Miss Sinclair into my care until this investigation is complete,” he declares. “If you have a problem with it, speak with Viktor.”
My stomach drops. Great. This whole thing is spiraling out of control, even by my standards.
“It’s settled then,” I say, ripping my arm out of Orin’s grip and stepping away, the tension still crackling between the brothers. Orin is still locked in a silent stare-off with Malachi, but I don’t stick around to watch it play out.
Without waiting for anyone to stop me, I follow Anton back into the house, the cold air finally replaced by the oppressive warmth of the mansion. I don’t look back.
Anton shovesme into Carmen’s room with all the subtlety of a battering ram and barks out his decree, “Stay here until you have something to report.” The door slams shut behind him, leaving me alone with the lingering smell of bleach and an overwhelming urge to punch something.
The asshole doesn’t even understand how this works. I don’t need to be in this room to contact her. I already saw her face and have her photo tucked away. That’s all I need. But let him think he’s cornered me. At least in here I’m free of Malachi’s watchful gaze and Orin’s insufferable presence.
Malachi.
My teeth grind together at the thought of him. What is his deal anyway? One moment, he’s trying to flirt with me, acting like he’s above all this family bullshit, and the next he’s every bit the enigma his father likely trained him to be. Who is he really? Why does he even care?
He’s probably no different than the rest of Marco’s men, perhaps better at hiding it. My gut twists with suspicion every time I think about him, like there’s a shadow behind his eyes I can’t quite make out. Something about this place and this case feels wrong.
Off.
Like the air itself is too thick with secrets.
My thoughts are interrupted by a voice that sends a cold ripple down my spine.
“I’d like to get a piece of you.”
I snap my head up, eyes wide. And there he is—leaning against the wall like he’s been here the whole time. Damien.
His presence is sharper, darker, more tangible than Carmen’s had been. His translucent form glows faintly in the dim room, and I can feel the weight of his spirit pressing against me like a cold hand on my neck. This is not a man whose company I’d have enjoyed in life.
“You finally decided to show yourself,” I say, crossing my arms and peering hard. “Would you like to fill me in on what happened here? I’m not really in the mood to play games with the dead today. The ones I play with the living are exhausting enough.”
He smiles, but it’s not the warm, charming grin of a victim seeking help. No, it’s twisted—dangerous. He pushes off the wall, taking a step closer, and the air around me chills further. My fingers twitch, ready to react if I need to, though I’m not entirely sure how to fight something that’s already dead.
“Games?” he repeats, mocking me. “Sweetheart, the only game here is the one you’re too blind to see. Do you know what happens to little girls who wander into the dark thinking they can survive among the monsters?”
“I’m guessing they survive fine when the monsters are as pathetic as you,” I shoot back, leaning against the edge of the bed.
There’s something deeply wrong about him. Carmen’s spirit had been fractured, confused, but Damien’s feels…whole. Like whatever bound him to this plane didn’t bother tearing apart his soul. Instead, it made him stronger.
Crueler.
He takes another step closer, his figure flickering but never losing that predatory aura. “You think you’re clever. But you don’t even know whose game you’re playing, do you? Whose rules you’re following.”
“Why don’t you enlighten me?” I refuse to let him see how much he’s rattling me. “Who pulled your strings before you ended up like this? Who’s pulling them now?”
He chuckles, the sound low and humorless. “You think I’m a pawn? You’re the one being played. The real monsters are right in front of you, and you’re too busy playing detective to see them.”
The temperature in the room drops another notch, and for the first time I wonder if I’ve underestimated him. But I don’t flinch and instead step closer, my chin tilted defiantly.
“You’re dead, Damien. You’ve already lost. Either give me the answers I need or get out of my way.”
His wicked smile widens. “You’re so sure this ends with me. But you’ll see, Kitty Kat.” He leans in close, his form almost solid now, his voice a whisper that feels like ice against my skin. “You’ll see soon enough that the real danger isn’t in the shadows.”
He vanishes, leaving me alone in the freezing room, my heart pounding and my mind racing.
