Page 55 of Dead Devil's Playground
"And where do I belong in this scenario?"
His eyes darken as they trail over me, lingering on the blood splattered across my skin. "With me, of course. Now that the twins are... disposed of… you belong to me."
Ice slides down my spine.
“Camden was quite enthusiastic about handling that particular task." He smiles, a predator's smile that transforms his face into something I barely recognize. "By now, they should be cooling on a warehouse floor. Hudson too, I imagine, judging by that blood and how he isn’t hovering over you like a ghoul."
Rage wars inside me, but I keep my expression neutral. If he thinks they are dead, I have an advantage. Let him underestimate what he's dealing with.
"You've been playing us this whole time," I say, putting the pieces together. "The sabotage at the club, the fires, the overdoses—that was you?"
He inclines his head in acknowledgment. "Not personally, of course. I have people for that. Or, Silas does."
Something about his demeanor, his confidence—it's all wrong. This isn't the nervous dancer seeking approval. This is someone else entirely.
"Why did you use the name Silas?" I ask, it’s now starting to click together in ways I don't want to believe.
His smile widens into something wicked as he raises the glass in a mock toast. "Well, that's because it's my real name," he says with a casual shrug. "Silas Oliver Holt.”
Chapter 22
Ry
Theroomseemstotilt beneath my feet. "That's impossible."
"Is it? Hudson can look all he likes at Oliver Hart and he'll only find what I wanted him to. But had he looked at Silas Oliver Holt, he would have found a completely different result." He laughs, the sound chilling. "You can't really be angry at Hudson for that. My relationship with my father was very well hidden."
My hands slip into the jacket, trying to come across as casual and non-threatening, I need more information. "Silas Holt is dead."
"No," he corrects, "my father is dead. Murdered by your precious twins." His expression hardens, something ugly flashing in his eyes. "I at least wanted to take after him, unlike the twins. I had started learning from him, you know, before they ruined it and killed him."
None of my research over two years ago mentioned that Silas had another son. But then there wasn’t much to link the twins to him either.
"If you're who you say you are," I challenge, "why the elaborate charade? Why not just kill us all?"
"Where's the satisfaction in that?" He moves closer, and I have to force myself not to retreat. "I wanted you to know me. To trust me. To like me." His smile turns cruel. "And you did, didn't you? Poor, eager Oliver, so desperate to please. So useful."
I think of all the information he fed us that led us exactly where he wanted us to go. The sick feeling in my stomach intensifies.
"I've spent years planning this," he continues, his voice taking on a fervent quality that reminds me unnervingly of Silas himself. "Learning everything about you three. About how you stole what should have been my inheritance. My father was building an empire, and you—" he points at me accusingly, "—you helped them destroy it."
He’s delusional. Or he only knows what information Silas fed him, because the empire was never Silas’… it was David’s. But I doubt that matters.
Because I see it now—the family resemblance that was hidden beneath Oliver's carefully cultivated softness. The same bone structure, the same cold intensity in the eyes. How did I miss it?
"Your father was a monster, he deserved worse than the death we gave him," I say, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.
Oliver takes another step forward. His jaw twitches, a muscle pulsing beneath the skin as he attempts to school his features into something controlled. But his eyes betray him—cold fury burns there, turning them to shards of ice. "It doesn't matter now. The twins are dead. Hudson is dead. And you..." His eyes rake over me possessively. "You belong to me now."
I laugh, and even I can tell it sounds a little unhinged. The sound echoes through our apartment, bouncing off the walls like something feral and wounded.
"You stupid, stupid fool," I say, shaking my head as if I'm disappointed in a child. "You've got it all backward. I never belonged to the twins." I take a step toward him, watching his eyes narrow in confusion. "The twins belong to me. Always have. And you?" I smile, feeling my lips stretch too wide. "You're nothing but a pale imitation of a man who was already pathetic to begin with."
His face contorts with rage, fingers tightening around the crystal tumbler. "You bitch. After I'm done—"
The soft ping of the elevator behind him interrupts his tirade. His head whips toward the sound, body tensing as he realizes he might not be as in control as he thought.
In the mirrored glass behind him, I catch the reflection of three figures stepping out of the lift—Rev and Kai, supporting Hudson between them. Their faces register identical expressions of shock as they take in the scene.
