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Vanderberg looks taken aback at the statement, the implication. “Uh, I was of the understanding that we’re all here to create an alliance, right? No one is moving against anyone else.”
Vice stays silent. Stock still.
This is a hostile infiltration dressed up as a friendly visit. It’s a warning that he’s coming whether they like it or not.
Rage is boiling up in my chest, choking me.
I want to scream at him. I want to tell the Matron to kill this man, or at least have him removed. I want to strangle him myself. But I can’t move. I’m frozen.
“Please, let's not come to blows or fight just yet.” Marco flips back to the smiling, gracious guest. “There's plenty of time to negotiate.”
“Indeed,” the Matron snaps. “This certainly gives us a lot to consider. I’m sure our leadership will have very specific terms if we are to court any alliance.”
“Whatever makes you feel better,” Vice croons, opening his hands benevolently. I’m surprised my breath isn’t fogging in the freezing chill that settles over each of the leaders.
“Be mindful that you are a guest here, Mr. Vice. You are only here by my organization’s permission, and that can be remitted easily.” The guards at every door back up the Matron’s statement, making their presence known.
“Oh, of course, my apologies. Don’t let me interrupt your party. I love a good time! I understand there’s still a grand finale of sorts?”
“That is correct. I think you might find it very interesting to witness.”
“What is she talking about?” I manage to whisper to Evan, never taking my eyes off the predator in the room.
“It’s a…”
“The auction will commence shortly,” the Matron announces. “Please find yourself a seat below, or indulge yourselves with any of our refreshments, food, or otherwise. I will follow up with each of you before the night is done.”
Her orders are followed, the entire gathering rising to leave. She’s the hostess, but that only seems to be the tip of the iceberg if this meeting is any indication of her prominence in the Sinful.
Clive storms out first, likely leaving with his entire crew. The other groups follow, talking among themselves.
Evan looks just as baffled as I am, watching, trying to piece together what just happened and how it may affect us.
“Auction?” I ask, my mind still numb.
“You’ll see.” He pulls me to my feet, but I can’t stop staring at Marco, whispering closely with Vanderberg, soothing the mayor’s ego. He catches me looking, his piercing gaze revealing nothing.
I have no idea whether he recognizes me.
Which means asking him the questions burning in my heart is out of the question. I shouldn’t go near him, period.
But I need to know.
Is my mother really dead?
If she is, I’m certain he killed her.
Evan tugs at my hand, trying to get me to leave. “Let's go. We need to find a spot.”
In a daze, he leads me out, down the spiral staircase.
“Are you…?”
“No. I’m not. You know who that was, Evan.”
“I do. And I’m glad you kept it together. If you would have exploded in there, it could have cost us.”
“Are you seriously worried about your standing? Your reputation? My mother is dead.”
