Page 11 of Wild Devil

“Yes,” Heywood replies. “When I am elected, we can commence with the plan immediately.”

“Good,” the visitor replies. “With emergency powers, we can cleanse this city with hellfire and start anew.”

“There is one problem,” Heywood adds. “My daughter. She’s proven difficult?—”

“Ah, but you need her to provide the proper collateral,” the man replies. “Without that money, our agreement can’t be fulfilled, I’m afraid. You’ll have to find another disaster to take advantage of.”

Another disaster? I look at Ben and see him frown, picking up on the phrasing as well.

“I don’t expect this to delay anything,” Heywood clarifies. “I merely meant to inform you that there will be an accelerated timeline. The wedding will happen sooner than expected.”

“Oh?”

“Tomorrow night,” Heywood replies. “I hope you will attend.”

“Don’t,” Ben hisses, placing a hand on my shoulder.

Belatedly, I realize that he did it to keep me from lurching to my feet. Somehow, I keep my head down.

“Of course,” the man replies. “I wouldn’t miss it. The dawn of a new era is one that cannot be overlooked. I see it as a good omen for what we have planned for the city as a whole. I’m looking forward to it.”

They trade more dry-as-hell conversation, and then the visitor leaves.

“Well, that was interesting,” Marco says. “Looks like their code words are a bit more vague than ours.”

“Fuck that. You heard what the bastard said. You’re crazy if you think I’m going to sit here and let that wedding happen.”

“I don’t expect you to, Day. But I do want you to think. Think things through. They’re counting on you making an ass of yourself by jumping the gun. You proved them wrong tonight. That was good. You need to keep your head high. Don’t get distracted now. Let’s come up with a plan.”

“Fine.” He’s right, as much as it stings to admit. “But if you think I’m going to sit by and let Frey marry that bastard, you have another thing coming.”

“Oh, I don’t think you should sit by at all,” Damien says with a dangerous laugh. He licks his lips, eyeing the Heywood mansion. “In fact, I think we should get a few suits and shit ready. It looks like we have a fancy shindig to crash.”

“Hell yes,” I say in a rush. “I couldn’t agree more.”

SIX

FREY

It’s strange watching Silas’ cocky demeanor wear away as the hours tick by without Daze’s arrival. It happens in stages, first with increasing agitation. Eventually, a fidgety, restlessness has him pacing my narrow cell as I watch. As night fades into dawn, rage consumes him.

All without so much as a knock on the door from a certain blond outlaw.

“I guess your hero decided you weren’t worth it at all,” Silas snaps to me as he finally heads for the door.

I can’t deny that the insinuation stings, though for very different reasons than I think he suspects. I’m so damn worried about him and Sammy. What if this was all a sick display for my benefit, and they’re both dead, rotting in my father’s basement. That’s the real reason he’s kept me here all night.

To torture them.

To torture me.

Even before the thought fully finishes forming, I bat it aside. If my father had Daze in his grasp, he’d want me to hear—or better yet, witness—him being tormented and punished.

That prospect gives me a small, twisted bit of comfort. At least I have hope that he’s okay.

Though that says little for me. As Silas storms to the room, he turns to face me one last time. “Remember what I’ve told you, sweetheart,” he snarls. “Remember the kind of monster that you’ve chosen to let into your bed. Sooner or later, Daze will get bored of you. Though hell, it looks like he already has. Just in the nick of time, too. From what I hear, you’re going to be a busy girl for the next few days.”

I shiver at the malice in his tone. “What do you mean?”

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