The Reaper (Dark Verse 2)

Maroni watched the interaction with interest. “As long as she doesn’t harm anyone.”

Even though part of her was getting furious about being talked about like she wasn’t there, she tamped it down, knowing this wasn’t the time or the place.

“I’ll stay at the main house,” she spoke before the situation could spiral out of control, which it was close to doing because she knew the stubborn men won’t relent. She was his bone and he had slapped that in Maroni’s face; Maroni wanted to take the bone away to make him pay. It didn’t take a genius to figure that one. They needed to ride it out.

“Wonderful,” Maroni smiled. “Vin,” he pointed to the scarred man with the empty eyes, “will escort you to your room. You can meet everyone tonight at dinner.”

Morana nodded politely. “Thank you.”

Vin headed to the door on silent feet. Taking that as her cue, she turned to the two men - Dante giving her a reassuring look, Tristan Caine still stoic - and gave them a little nod. Wanting to quickly get away from the escalating tension in the room, she hurried to where Vin was standing. As soon as she was a few steps away, he started to walk again, leading them out the entryway and up the stairs.

Morana looked around the impressive staircase that she hadn’t had the chance to admire the first time around. The chandelier glimmered in the sunlight pouring in from the large windows, sparkles dancing over it. The colored reflections danced around the floor, creating an ethereal atmosphere. She could almost forget for a second where she was. Large paintings of vistas were arranged artfully along the walls of the staircase. She examined them all, following the silent man on two floors. On the second floor landing, Vin turned right down a corridor.

“Are there others on this floor?” she asked, initiating conversation and breaking silence.

“No,” he responded, his tone curt.

“So, what’s on this floor?”

“Guest rooms.”

Okay. “Are there other guests at the moment?”

“Some.”

Morana sighed. The man was a boatload of information. Following him down the corridor and past several doors, she observed the way he was walking, a slight limp in his left step and wondered what had happened to him. Before she could think more, they came to a stop on the third door that he opened for her. She was about to enter when he pushed his hand in front of her, stopping her.

She looked up at him, suddenly aware that she was unarmed with a strange man on a floor where no one would hear her scream. Muscles tensing, she took a step back as he bent down and quickly removed a small knife from his sock. Without a word, he stood up and held the knife out to her.

Morana looked his scarred left hand and the knife that sat on it, stunned.

Hesitant, not understanding what and why he was doing, she took the knife. “Why?”

The man whispered. “You’re with vultures now. They feed off the dead.”

A shiver went down her spine, her grip tightening on the knife.

Vin pulled his hand away and gestured for her to enter. “They will be activating the ears in this room soon. Stay sharp.”

With that piece of information, he turned on his heel and walked away with that limp, leaving Morana reeling from the entire interaction. Nevertheless, she felt better knowing she had some sort of a weapon. Closing the door behind her, she looked around the spacious room, checking the walls and ceiling for cameras. She couldn’t see any but she was certain there were some.

The door locked, she walked deeper in the opulent room done in cream and blues. A Caine-sized bed took the center space, a small sitting area across it, a dresser and a chest of drawers in oak wood gracing the other corner of the room. Large windows with a comfortable seat looked out into the sprawling green land behind the mansion. She looked out, seeing the treeline behind which she knew the other wings were, spotting the blue waters of the lake off at the distance.

Had she just exchanged one cage for another? Granted, this one looked less sterile but there was, under a roof she did not feel safe in, planning to sleep with a knife under her pillow at night and keeping the doors locked. There she was, ready to go to dinner that night with a table full of strangers again. There she was, all alone, again.

The vibration of her phone broke through her thoughts. She took the phone out of her bag and opened the new message.

Tristan: Were you wet?

Morana looked at the grounds, a small smile forming on her lips.

Morana: You'll never find out.

Tristan: Yes, I will.

She snorted.

Morana: I can see the lake from my window.