Page 40 of The Heir
"You can't fucking take this from me!" I hiss. "You can't. You can't. You can't."
God, I sound insane. Maybe Iamlike Hannah. But it feels so good to repeat the words. It's an affirmation, another mantra: a promise to myself and the universe that Ellawon'tbreak me. She can't. She just can't.
"Don't you just look like shit?" Ella pops in and stares down at me, smirking as I rub the gritty sleep from my eyes. "Perfect match for your husband. I really don't know what you see in him—he looksawful. All that rich-boy shine has worn off."
A pang of longing shoots through my gut. It's torture to know he's so close, but I can't find him. I can't see him. I can't get to him. Glaring at Ella, I say nothing.
"He gave us a real scare yesterday," she continues. Like we're two besties just catching up. "Threw a fit. Shoved me, hit Hannah, and booked it out of his room. So ungrateful."
"He got out?" I gasp.
"Don't get ahead of yourself. There's nowhere for him to go. He ran around the compound before tiring himself out—well, no,Hannahtired him out. He wanted to find you, but she made him forget pretty quick." Ella's blue eyes flash with a malicious glee. Her perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth are exposed in a menacing smile.
"What the fuck do you mean by that?" I hiss. Fury simmers in my veins at what she's implying. Hannahdaredto touch him? Actually, fuck what I said before.I'mmorethan happy to be the monster. I'll be his monster. I'll fuck her up. I'll rip out her veins one by one—I'll feed her her own intestines. I'll rip out her toenails and shove them in her eyes. I will fuckingruinher.
"Relax, heifer." Ella points a finger at me, and I prickle. "She gave him a shot of tranquilizer. He dropped like a sack of bricks—got a bit of a shiner from it, too."
"Why are you here?" I ask, trying desperately to change the subject. She knows bringing up Dante riles me—she knows it's the best way to get me in a frenzy. And with her on the other side of these fucking bars, there's nothing I can do.
"Just checkin' in, Melly-bean. Wondering how you're doing since you had your little fit over the guard guy. Do you still see his face?" She leans in close, wrapping her hands around two of the cell bars. "Do you see him behind your eyes? Do you see his caved-in face? Do you hear his pathetic pleas for mercy?"
I slap my hands over my ears, and shove my head under the threadbare pillow. Just like she said, Forge's terrified eyes flash in my mind. Fuck. Fuck!
"God, you're so fucking crazy." Ella snickers. "Good. Keep it up. I can'twaitfor the Nephilim to see you like this."
"Why does that matter?" I ask, throwing the pillow to the dingy floor. "Why does he care?"
"Proof of concept. The Goetia has fallen far, and you're tangible proof."
"What thefuckdoes that even mean?"
Ella grimaces and tightens her grip on the bars. "They're handedeverything. They're rewarded for being fuckin'born. I worked for this—I worked forallof this. Me. Not my daddy, not my grandpop,me. And the Goetic Consortium? Dante was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He didn'tworkfor his money. He didn'tworkfor his influence. It was all handed to him. Filthy, little, rich boy. But the Goetia has been diluting the bloodlines. A couple hundred years ago, Dante's wife would have been hand-picked before he was born. But not anymore. And he choseyou. Some absolutely insane nobody. You're proof that the Goetia isweak,and it's time to wage fuckin' war."
She rattles the bars of my cage and stomps off. Why on earth does she care how GoCon works?
Dante
Ifound something. I tore the thin mattress from my cot and found that the metal slats are screwed in. The screws sit flush with the side rails, and they are flatheads. This is good. While the cot itself and the bars of my door are new, the Seraph didn't deep-clean the cell. No, they left the rubble from years—decades?—of neglect.
A single chip of cinderblock waits for me in the corner. I make sure to hide it when I'm not using it, just in case Hannah gets any ideas. That woman stares at me with predatory eyes practically every time I turn around, but she's not here now. I don't know where she is. But my heart races with anxiety as I slip the thin piece of concrete into the screw's slot and gently twist. I tried with my thumbnail first, but all that got me was a sore thumb.
This isworking. Ever so slowly, the screw comes loose. I suck in a breath, trying to calm my nerves. My fingers tremble, and the cinderblock shard crumbles.
"Fuck!" I whisper. "No, no, no!"
I slump back on the floor and stare at the screw. It's only slightly protruding from the metal railing. Wiping a shaking hand, I try to grip the slippery little fucker and twist it the rest of the way out. Unease grips my stomach, and sweat gathers on my brow.
Clunk! Creeeak….
Heart pounding, I abandon my mission and throw the mattress back on the cot. I quickly sit and perch my elbows on my knees, wiping the sweat from my forehead. Raking a hand down my face, I feel the sweaty overgrowth of my beard and wince. I prefer my face to be clean-shaven, but I'm not about to debase myself and beg Hannah for a razor.
"Oh, Dante!" Ella sings out. Her footsteps sound faster than usual, like she's practically skipping down the hall. "I want to make a deal with you!"
Icy dread prickles on the back of my neck. "What kind of deal?"
"Oh, it's averygood one." She appears with her signature hateful grin. "All you need to do is look pathetic when the Nephilim gets here. If you do that, I'll let you have time outside! Don't you want to see the sun? Feel the breeze on your skin?"
As much as I hate to admit it, I really, really do. "Explain."
