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I knew criminal minds. I’d studied them for years. The fae’s mind reminded me of those who sought to cause pain and anguish in others as a form of enjoyment. Control. They were cruel to the point of pleasure. Rochefort controlled the game, but now that I knew, I could play my own game in return.
As my carriage rumbled down the road to the manor, leaving Minerva behind, I took comfort in the fact that this time, I knew Rochefort’s world was a lie. Armed with the truth, I’d have a fighting chance to free Devere.
That comfort evaporated some when the driver left me at the house steps.
Light blazed through every window. An owl hooted behind me in the forest. The night was so quiet, as though it were holding its breath.
The door opened, and the doorman greeted me with a polite, formal smile. “May I take your coat, Mr. Anzio?”
And so began the game.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Devere
The jail consisted of a simple sprung bed, a thin mattress, and a chamber pot. Three walls of bars and the fourth of bricks left no privacy. Russo sat at his desk several strides away from my cell, bustling through papers.
I settled on the bed, folded my arms and closed my eyes. It was going to be a long night. Eventually, Adair would arrive to taunt me and probably offer to free me for a price.
I’d never given in and vowed never to, but with Valentine changing impossible things, like my heart, perhaps it was time to trade his freedom for mine.
Doors clanged, boots thumped, and male voices grumbled. I opened my eyes and watched three men approach Russo’s desk. All threw me leery glances. They didn’t say a word, and as Russo stood and grabbed his keys, it seemed they were here for me.
I stood and approached the bars.
Russo turned the key in the lock and swung the door open. He looked up and said, “You resisted.”
How strange it was to be despised for what I was, and they didn’t even know the whole truth. I had no defense against such hate.
The men filed into my small cell and spread out.
“Where’s Rochefort?” If they killed me, he’d not be pleased.
“Rochefort doesn’t run this town,” one of the men growled. He clenched his fists.
This was the bike shed all over again, but without Valentine. Nothing had changed. The men had gotten older, more violent, and justice couldn’t touch them.
Why did they hate me so? Because I did not conform to their rigid ideals of what it meant to be a man? Or because I’d always been different?
The first punch landed in my middle, and the reason no longer mattered. I doubled over, folding around the sharp jab of pain. The next blow struck my jaw, whipping my head around. My knees hit the floor. Blood pooled in my mouth.
Russo hung back. An upstanding officer of the law could not be seen bloodying his knuckles. As the blows rained down and the kicks dug in, I locked him in my glare. If they knew the truth, that I had a clockwork heart, they’d call me a monster and kill me. They could never know. So I crumpled and took the pain, wore it like another mask. When the barrage ended, I lay still, simmering in agony, ears ringing and my head awhirl.
“Looks as though Rochefort has moved on to your man, no?” Russo said. His firm fingers pinched my chin, making me look into his eyes.
“W-what?”
“Val’s attending dinner at Rochefort Manor. Guess that means Val no longer wants to fuck you?” Russo laughed. “You were always soft. I don’t know what he sees in you.”
Val was having dinner with Adair? I’d wanted that, hadn’t I? For Val to play the game. But he’d been adamant he wouldn’t. So what had changed? Was it me? Had he gone there because of me?
He had no idea about the monster he dined with. Worse, if Val confronted him, Adair woulddestroyhim.
“I knew you were both queer for each other back when we were boys. But his face when I arrested you?” Russo’s smirk tilted sideways and he pushed his face close, as close as lovers might. “That stupid bastard is in love with you.”
Valloved me?
Russo’s satisfied laugh faded behind the thumping of my heart in my head. The others laughed too and wiped bloody knuckles on their clothes.
