Page 35 of Property of Mako
And that meant we were too damn close for comfort.
Chapter 13
Through the Veil
Lily
The van lurched, sending me into the metal wall. Someone gasped. My wrists burned from the zip ties, and every time I shifted, the plastic bit deeper into my skin.
No one spoke.
The air inside was thick with fear.
I could hear it in the uneven breathing, feel it in the way the other girls sat stiff and silent beside me. We were packed in like sardines. It seemed like every inch of my skin touched someone else’s.
We’d been moved without warning—dragged from the damp, rotting plantation we’d been kept in and shoved into the van before dawn. No explanation. Just rough hands and sharper glares.
That never meant anything good.
When the van finally slowed, the driver’s voice carried back through the thin metal divider. “We’re here.”
The doors groaned open, and a slice of humid daylight hit my eyes. We all cowered from the blinding light. One by one, they dragged us out of the back and onto uneven cobbles. The place looked… abandoned. Like it should be condemned.
An old antebellum mansion stood at the end of a weed-choked drive, columns cracked and blackened with mold, shutters hanging like broken bones. The roof sagged, and moss crawled over everything.
It was the kind of place you’d cross yourself walking past—kind of like I did when I walked past cemeteries in New Orleans.
One of the men shoved me forward. “Move.”
Stumbling once, I quickly righted myself as we trailed toward the entrance that looked like it had seen better days. One of the men opened the gate and it groaned like a warning. We crossed the threshold of the front gate?—
And the world changed. My jaw dropped as I tried to take it all in and not trip.
The rot peeled away like smoke, revealing marble-white columns and gleaming black shutters. The gardens exploded with manicured hedges and rosebushes heavy with blood-red blooms. Crystal lanterns swung from the wraparound porch, catching the sunlight like jewels.
Holy shit. It was magic. A glamour. A veil. It was like something in the books I read.
My stomach twisted as old memories assaulted me.
Places like this weren’t for show—they were traps dressed as palaces.
Inside, the air was cool and perfumed. Chandeliers glittered overhead, their light bouncing off polished floors. Servants—human and definitely not—glided silently through the halls, their eyes downcast.
We were herded into a long parlor with velvet chairs and gold-framed mirrors taller than I was. Every reflection looked wrong, too sharp, like the glass itself didn’t want to keep our images. Opulent black velvet curtains hung from ceiling to floor and were tied back with black and gold cords that matched the trim on the chairs.
It was all so beautiful—too beautiful.
That’s when he walked in.
Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a black suit that fit like it had been sewn onto him. Hair black as midnight, eyes like molten gold. He didn’t need fangs to look dangerous. His too-good looks screamed danger.
“Welcome,” he said, his voice smooth as silk over steel. I didn’t feel welcome at all. “You’re in my care now. You will remain here until the auction, which is… three days from tonight.”
A murmur rippled through the girls. One started crying, muffling the sound against her hands.
His narrowed gaze slid over each of us, slow and deliberate, until it landed on me. He smiled, but it wasn’t warm. It was predatory.
“Make yourselves… presentable,” he said and turned to leave. He paused in the doorway, and his unnatural gaze locked on me once again. It was almost as if he was staring into my soul and reading all my deepest, darkest secrets. He smirked, then exited the room.
