Page 52 of Our Vicious Descent
“So you’ve taken it upon yourself to fix things? Without acknowledging how this reflects on our legacy and this empire—without acknowledging how this reflects on New York and the country?” Tobias snapped.
Elise’s lips quivered. “The way you encourage the abuse of weaker individuals is the worst reflection of all. No one trusts you or this empire because of what you’ve done. If you really cared about Harlem, you would help us.”
Tobias passed a hand over his face, sighing. The man might have aged twenty years since this conversation had started less than an hour ago. Lines deepened on his face, and his eyes grew so dark, they looked black in the low light. “I am not sure what you expect me to do. Foreign criminals have control over many of my assets now.” He pressed his knuckles to the top of his desk and leaned against it, sighing. “The Mafia is not something you can just barter with. They’ve been here forever, and they only grow larger and more dangerous every year. It’s no surprise they saw my success and decided to latch onto it. I’m shocked Sterling has never told you about them. My men have run into them countless times. One of their past bosses even approached me with a pitch for business many years ago. They’revicious. But this particular family that’s just arrived from Sicily is hell-bent on revenge against yourgirl.”
Layla shot him a dirty look but said nothing. The man wasn’t worth wasting her breath.
He dropped his cigarette into an ashtray that was already stuffed full with others. “Let me tell you, Elise, I always hoped you would find a nice girl to settle down with peacefully. Layla is not that girl for you. She doesn’t deserve you at all.”
The words were nothing new to Layla. She had been telling herself that for years, even before she turned. Because what Saint had business with someone like Layla? Back when they were children, Layla was just a girl trying to find solace in dance, one who happened to be born to parents adored by the Saints. Elise saw something great in her that Layla never managed to see for herself. As a reaper, it became even harder to see herself in any position of honor or love. She had been taught, since turning, that she would have to earn good things. Such was the way of reaperhood. Remade into a tragedy, forced to work for anything more.
Elise’s chest rose and fell quickly. Her lips twisted in frustration, and her brows bunched together as she thought. Layla wondered what of. Whether she was worth defending to Tobias anymore. While she sat, bound by chains in his study, covered in blood, proving to him that she was no more than the monster they all saw her as.
“I did not come here to hear what I deserve from you,” Elise said.
Tobias sat in his chair and regarded her with less retained hostility. An impressed smile crossed his face. “Perhaps I underestimatedyour rightful presence as my heir. You could have done wonderful things, Elise. Give me a reason why I should not turn Layla in to the gang in exchange for my training bases back?”
Some time ago, those words might have delivered a gentleness to her battered heart. All the old Elise had ever wanted was her father’s love and affection. But it had come with limitations and conditions that she could never manage. Now she faced him with a coldness that she had been trained to reserve only for reapers.
Elise shook her head. Layla sensed the quickening of her heart rate as her anxiety picked up. The heiress let out a heavy breath and straightened her shoulders. “The truth is I do not want to turn her in for my own selfish reasons. I do not want her to die because I care for her. I know, however, that you do not recognize such reasoning as legitimate. So I say we need Layla because she is integral to getting Josephine back. Since Josi was turned, she might only connect to another reaper.”
The spike in her blood pressure informed Layla Elise had told a lie. If Josi’s reaction to Layla had been any indication, the little girl certainly did not want to connect with her at all. But the lie seemed to work on Tobias, who leaned forward, nodding.
“If I can fix this, will you try again?” Elise asked.
Her father narrowed his eyes. “Try what?”
Elise swallowed hard. “To be a father and a leader. For Josi. We have reason to believe she’s being used to help distribute karma among blood houses, and we can save her from there. But she will need you when she’s back. I don’t want to take her from you too,Father. But I need you to promise me you can do the right things for her.”
Tobias ran a shaky hand over his hair. He let out a rough breath, and before he even spoke, Layla knew a devastating blow was coming. “You mistake my motivations, Elise. I do not wish to house a monster. If you get Josi, you are tofixher. You will not return her to me as a beast. Do you understand me?”
Layla’s fangs slid out at the threat in his voice. The rise of tears and helplessness in Elise’s eyes made her strain against the Saint chains, no matter the blood the burning metal drew from her wrists.
Elise nodded and blinked past her anguish. “Understood.”
26
Getting dressed up in fancy clothes and expensive jewelry took Layla back to a time when humanity ran through her veins as surely as her blood did. Going through Valeriya’s old belongings had been a last-minute decision—as had deciding to take their night at the Nest Club seriously enough to warrant entirely new outfits. Especially since Sterling claimed they would be in and out in minutes—all they had to do was steal the gang’s stash of karma.
“If I’ve learned anything the past few days, it’s that anything that can go wrong will go wrong. Might as well prepare for that,” Elise had grumbled then. The mood after leaving the Saint home had been low, and Layla knew only one way to present them with some excitement, no matter how fleeting.
The look of pure joy on Elise’s face, however, when she saw the massive collection of luxury clothing and rare jewelry had been worth it. Layla sat on the edge of the bench in the closet and watchedas Elise rummaged through the layers of clothes hung up around the room. A few wardrobes lined the hotel room that had been turned into a walk-in closet, with shoe racks and cabinets serving as extra storage where the external racks could not fit everything else. Elise had gone straight to the racks of gowns that looked more expensive than anything Layla had ever owned in her life. Her parents had been fine financially when they had been alive. Layla had never had to worry about where her next meal would come from, and she had been in dance classes multiple times a week. She knew back then that her parents had sacrificed a lot to get her into dance and afford her lessons and costumes. They had worked hard to guarantee her a future that most people would only ever dream of.
It turned out, Layla would soon become most people. Despite all that her parents had done, their hard work did not prevent her from being forced onto a path of damnation. Nothing anyone did could ever guarantee the future for anyone else. Even while Layla was close to Elise and her family, there had been nothing to prevent the direction in which their lives went. Layla had to wonder if there would always be an expectation of failure and ruin when it came to being Black in America. If one family got to be successful and ride the riches of their hard work, then another had to pay the debts of escape from bondage to the toxic patriotism of the U.S.
All that made Layla wonder how exactly Valeriya had come into possession of these beautiful items. She knew Valeriya could have paraded around as a socialite if she wanted to and that she had in the past. Some places beyond the United States obsessed over beingswho were different from the norm. Valeriya may not have been kept like a creature in a zoo in those places, but their infatuation with her was enough of the same sentiment. Abroad, she was put on display for money, and she took enough of it to make a more permanent home in New York. But perhaps Layla had the story wrong and Valeriya had earned these luxury items through different avenues. When the Clarice had still been operating as a hotel, her old mentor had haunted the halls until the patrons became too afraid to book and effectively drove the place out of business. Maybe Valeriya had just kept whatever was left behind. Maybe she had more discreet means that Layla would never know about because she was dead and the ancient reaper had been far less honest and more of an enigma than Layla had ever realized.
Now Layla shook her head, rubbing at her brow as the thoughts finally dissipated from her mind. Elise stood in front of her holding a long baby-blue gown in one hand and a pearl necklace in the other. “What do you think?”
Layla blinked and sat up straight. “Is that what you’re going to wear?”
“No, silly. It’s for you. I figured you would want something less flashy.” Elise held it up to Layla, eyeing how the gown looked against her skin and frame. “Maybe not this color.”
“Are you a professional stylist and I just never knew?” Layla asked in a teasing tone.
Elise sighed and hung the dress up before pushing around the rest of the garments for another option. “This is the most normal thingI’ve done in ages. I’m just happy to be doing something that will not result in pain, distress, or blood.” She hesitated, her search slowing while she thought. “Is it not strange, though? Rummaging through her belongings knowing she’s out there…alive, but different?”
Layla nodded slowly. Already the excitement on Elise’s face had dwindled in the few minutes that they had been in the closet. “We only have a little while until sundown, and this place still might be her nest. Let’s not think about that for now.” She pursed her lips as Elise’s fingers faltered in the racks. “I will wear anything you choose for me.”
