Page 47 of Violent Reign (Violent Kingdom)

My dad gets out of his car and follows me to the door. “I’ve got a guy on the inside. It’s just Eliza here.”

My heart sinks a little, but then I reconsider. Maybe it’s better if I can confront her without her husband present. Turn the screws. Scare her into submission. Get some fucking answers. Yes, I think. This is better.

“You don’t need to be here for this,” I tell my father.

He frowns. “I’m not letting you go in there alone.”

“I’m not a kid, dad.”

“And yet you’ve been kidnapped twice in the last year.” It makes me laugh internally, makes the knot in my stomach loosen just a little. “If you want to talk to her, just do it. But don’t be surprised if—”

“If what?”

“Just don’t be surprised.”

I ring the doorbell, then ring it again, and surprisingly quickly, there are heavy footfalls approaching. Heavy, unsteady footfalls. The door swings open to reveal an Eliza who has clearly been up all night.

She wears a purple flower-printed caftan and her makeup is smeared under her eyes, as if she didn’t wash the mascara off her face last night. A bottle dangles from one hand—a mostly empty merlot. I frown, puzzled. It’s eight in the morning. Whatever. If she’s drunk, that’s even better for what I need right now.

Maybe a better person would feel sorry for her, but I put a gun to her head instead. “Hello, Eliza.”

I press the gun into her flesh, pushing her back into the house. She backs up slowly, her gait unsteady. My father takes one last look outside and then closes the door, trapping us in here with her.

Her eyes go wide, bigger than the moon, and she gapes at me in an unconvincing show of innocence. “What—I—”

“Nathan’s been a bad boy, Eliza,” I begin. “He kidnapped me. He kidnapped Avery. He murdered at least one girl while he had us down in that basement.” My father looks deeply troubled as he listens. “He’s had me locked in a prison cell so he can marry his fucking cousin and take over the family business. He’s been visiting my mother in the psychiatric facility where she lives.” The chill radiates off the words. “And I think you know why he’s doing all of this. So you’re going to fucking tell me.”

Eliza crumples to the ground. She just...crumples. Falls. Her knees give out and she sinks down to the tile as if someone has shot her. I glance over my shoulder to see if someone has, but there’s no bloom of blood across her caftan, only her hands, clutched to her chest.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter under my breath.

She curses and drops the bottle of wine, and when she tips her face up, her expression holds zero surprise.

“I’ve been wondering when the devil would catch up to me,” she slurs from her pathetic position on the floor. “But I didn’t think it would be you knocking on my door.”

I crouch down and nudge her arm with the gun. “Who says I’m not the devil?” I taunt her. “After the things I’ve seen… after the things I’ve done, I might as well be. So talk, or I’ll make you talk.”

“Rome-” my father begins-

“Shut up, old man,” I snap. “Either get with the program, or get out.”

My father closes his mouth.

I poke Eliza again with the gun, harder this time. “Get the fuck up,” I growl. She stumbles to her feet, then grabs for a table holding a vase of fake flowers. “Talk, Eliza. I don’t have much time.”

“You don’t understand the life I’ve lived,” Eliza whispers. “The things I’ve done for him. I did everything for him, and it still wasn’t enough.”

“For who, Enzo?”

She nods pathetically. “I tried so hard to be the perfect wife. The perfect mother. But I wasn’t good for anything, was I? I couldn’t even give him the children he always wanted. I was defective.”

“Did you know that Nathan was killing those girls?” I ask her. “Before Avery. Before all of this. The XO Killer claimed his first victim ten years ago, Eliza. Was it Nathan? Did you know?”

She can’t meet my gaze. “Look at me!” I roar. “Did you know?!”

She sobs, blinking away tears as she shrugs her shoulder, then lets it fall again. “I had suspicions,” she confesses. “I just… nobody wants to think their child is capable of that.”

I clench my jaw furiously, my teeth threatening to crack under the pressure. “But he’s not your son, is he?”

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