Page 6 of Devil in Disguise

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened, revealing the wooden red door at the end of the hallway. Shaking my head, I walked toward it, knowing that Sinclair was behind it, waiting for me.

The second I opened the door, there would be no turning back.

Danny’s fate rested on my shoulders, and to save him, I had to play Sinclair’s game. The stakes were high, and Sinclair wouldn’t go easy on me. Nothing in life was ever easy, but I refused to give up.

I refused to walk away from Danny when he needed me the most.

I took a deep breath. My hand trembled as I reached for the doorknob. Images of Danny flashed through my mind—his laughter, his kindness, the way he always believed in me. I couldn’t let him down. The door creaked open slowly, revealing a perfectly decorated and dimly lit room. Sinclair’s silhouette loomed in the shadows, a sinister smile playing on his lips.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice dripping with malice. “I’ve been expecting you.”

I stepped inside, my heart pounding against my ribs.

This room was not what I expected. Creamy satin trimmed in crisp white ornate moldings covered the walls, and handcrafted tongue-and-groove maple floors glistened under the light from the ornate chandelier hanging from the ceiling at the heart of the room. Standing behind an expensive mahogany desk was the Devil himself, Crispin Sinclair.

Stepping into the room, I stood straight, my eyes never leaving his.

Smirking, I shook my head. “You should give your decorator a raise. She out did herself. This room is nothing like you. Makes you seem almost human.”

Ignoring my comment, he said, “You constantly surprise me, Dante. I must say, I never thought you would show up.”

Getting straight to the point, I asked, “Where is Danny?”

He tsked, shaking his head. “Still stubborn as ever.”

“Not fucking around this time, Sin. Where is Danny?”

The man I once looked up to, respected, wanted to make most proud, sighed disappointingly as he sat in his venetian leather winged-back chair. “Alright, Dante. I will play your little game. What makes you think I know where the young Sypher is at?”

“Cut the crap,” I groaned. Walking over to one of the chairs in front of his desk, I sat, refusing to wait for an invitation to do so. “Silas called me.”

Leaning back in his chair, Sin smirked. “Ah yes. Of course, he stirred the air of discontent before he disembarked on another wild-goose chase. Would you like to know why?”

“Not particularly. Just tell me what you did with Danny and you will never have to see me again.”

Ignoring my question, he clearly said, “Silas left because of you.”

“What do you mean, me?”

“Did you know his little nightmare had returned from the dead?”

“Shit,” I cursed.

“Exactly, and Silas found out that you knew and didn’t tell him. So, let me ask you again. What makes you think I know where the young Sypher is at? Like you, I have a vested interest in the young man. He has information I would like to speak with him about.”

“You really don’t know where he’s at?”

“I never said I didn’t know.” Sinclair smirked.

I groaned. “Sin, please. Do you know where Danny is or not?”

“He’s at St. John’s Presbyterian Hospital, seventh floor, psych ward.”

“And just how in the hell did he end up there?” I sneered, getting to my feet.

Sinclair leaned forward in his chair and smiled up at me.

“I put him there.”

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