Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Like clockwork, Lily immediately grabs a mop and dustpan and starts to clean the mess as if this is an everyday occurrence. It probably is. I’ve heard that Scythe has a short fuse.
He runs his hands through his dark shoulder-length hair. “Apologies. I shouldn’t have blown up on you like that.”
“I understand, Scythe,” Bianca says. “Believe me, I know the weight my sister’s—my—name carries. But I assure you, we are here in good faith to find out if she is behind something terrible, and to bring her to justice if she is.”
Scythe looks Bianca in the eyes, his head slightly cocked. “My God, I hope you live to tell the tale, then.”
30
BIANCA
Chills are still skittering over my skin as we depart Second Star. And not a moment too soon. Harrison looked like he wanted to deck Scythe into next week after he snapped at me at the bar.
We’re on the elevator down to the ground floor of the building when I turn to Harrison. “People are disappearing. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”
“I don’t think it is either, babe.” He rubs at his forehead. “But let’s not talk about this here. Your sister owns Second Star. She could very well have ears in the elevator.”
I clap my hand to my mouth. “Shit. And we’ve been telling all these people who I am. If any of them rat me out—”
“Then I’ll protect you.” He wraps his arms around me. “Anyone who wants a shot at you will have to get through me first, Bianca.”
I look up at him. “Back at MINOS, when you called me your girlfriend, was that just part of the story you were telling those people, or do you actually think of me that way?”
He smiles. “Two things can be true at once.”
My heart floods with joy at his words.
But we have such bigger fish to fry right now. My sister is making people disappear—possibly worse—at an alarming rate. I have no idea how deep this rabbit hole goes, but we’re halfway down it now. There’s no clawing our way back up. The only way out is through.
“That woman Zeb was talking about. Dishari. Her story sounded a lot like Alissa and Maddox’s.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Harrison replies. “She got in some kind of tiff with Rouge. I wonder if… Oh, shit.”
“What?”
“I had a phone call with a woman who was at the club the last time Alissa was there. She told me that she got in a fight with her.”
I raise an eyebrow. “She did? I mean, I don’t really know Alissa, but she doesn’t seem the type at all.”
“She isn’t. But apparently Rouge was nearby, and the woman I talked to said being in Rouge’s presence seemed to aggravate her.”
“She beat up a woman because Rouge was nearby?”
“No, I doubt that. She probably had some reason to start the fight. I think she and Maddox were looking for something and the fight was a distraction. But the woman I talked to—Pia’s her name—told me she could sense some beef between Alissa and Rouge.”
I inhale. “Dishari was arguing with Rouge over the waitstaff’s pay. Maybe Alissa dug up some dirt about the club and confronted Rouge about it in a similar way.”
“Maybe.” Harrison crosses his arms. “But again, let’s not discuss it in here.”
“Right. Good move.” I dart my gaze around the elevator. No cameras as far as I can tell, but my sister is very intelligent. If she’s keeping tabs on someone, she’d keep the recording devices hidden. Hell, she’d probably build them herself from scratch. She’s a damned genius. There’s very little she can’t do.
As far as I could ever tell, the only thing beyond her grasp is the ability to feel genuine empathy.
She’s good at faking it to get her way, but inside? She’s cold as hell.
“Where to next?” Harrison asks.
“There’s only one more club—at least that I know of—that Rouge owns. And it’s her biggest one besides Aces. The Jade Sanctum.”
The Jade Sanctum was the first club Rouge bought when she started expanding beyond Aces Underground, and it’s easy to tell. The layout is very similar, with four distinct sections—one for each cardinal direction—each housing a different bar. The North section glows with purple lights, outfitted with velvet curtains in a regal shade of amethyst. Behind the bar stands a broad-shouldered and silver-haired woman in front of taps offering various stouts, lagers, and porters. To her left is the East section, lit in cool blues. The light is clean, crystalline, almost waterlike. Behind the bar stand gleaming bottles of clear liquor—vodka, gin, silver tequila. The man behind it—thin, gaunt, with a pair of large round glasses covering half his face, fidgets with his cuffs as he prepares drink orders.
Turning again I find myself facing the South section, which is dominated by burning reds. Scarlet light casts across plush booths and ruby chandeliers. The woman at the bar is tall and statuesque with strawberry-blond hair. Behind her are bottles of red and white wine from France, Italy, Argentina, California, and everywhere in between. The loop finishes out with the West section, where the glow from the lights is a muted yellow. The bar shelves are stacked with amber liquors—whiskey, dark rum, brandy. The man overseeing this section is nighttime personified. His dark clothes swallow the meager amount of light, and his face seems carved in half by shadow no matter where he stands. He has dark circles under his eyes and his hair is unkempt, but he’s objectively good-looking in a sullen sort of way.