Conclave (Devil's Night 3.5)

“Piss off.”

But he snatches it from my hand anyway.

What a baby. I guess some people can only dish it out.

“You know that guilt I was feeling a minute ago?” he blurts out. “It’s all gone now.”

“Good.” I nod once. “We have bigger things to deal with tonight anyway.”

He seethes, drying off his hair and face and kicking off his shoes.

“Everyone in?” I hear someone call. “We’re ready to shove off.”

I look up at the captain, standing up on the bridge deck.

I give him a wave. “We’re ready.”

Damon and I climb the stairs again and walk across the sun deck as the engines start purring a little louder.

“Is Michael here?” he asks.

“He’s coming.” I dump out the rest of my uneaten food and grab a bottle of water. “I wish everyone would stop asking me that.”

I move around the bar, ready to head to my cabin to shower, but Damon grabs my arm.

I stop, meeting his dark eyes.

“Everything on the table tonight

,” he commands. “Everything.”

My heart skips a beat, and my muscles, relaxed a moment ago, start to tighten and strain again.

But I nod in agreement. “I know.”

As the yacht moves out into the darkening Atlantic and the stars light the night sky, nothing but Damon’s words play in my mind over the next two hours. Everything on the table. I shower, I dress, and I barely have the stomach to think about anything else, other than what’s going to happen in the next hour. Or the next four hours.

Or tomorrow.

Everything hinges on tonight.

I put on my lipstick, and the faint sound of propellers echo in the distance as dread sits on my lungs, making it hard to breathe. I look up at my ceiling, turning my eyes toward the sound of the helicopter above descending onto the yacht.

Michael is here.

The bells chime eight, all the clocks in the cabins singing the hour, as well as a faint dong of the tower clock in the wine room carrying through the corridors of the yacht.

Michael didn’t come to find me when he arrived. I leave my room, taking my phone, silent of any texts or calls I thought he’d send when I wasn’t in our cabin. It’s for the best, though. It’s why I decided to get ready in another part of the boat, other than the place we share. I don’t want to see him until I go in there. I’ll lose my nerve.

Ryen, Misha’s girlfriend, steps through their door, followed closely by him, and she looks over at me coming her way.

I smile, unable to stop my eyes from trailing down her body. She wears a tight black dress, falling about mid-thigh, with black heels that make me feel a little short. Misha turns to me, wearing a tailored black suit, minus the tie, and no matter what Damon says about his tattoos, they really do go with everything.

We’re all in black, and I almost laugh. I’m glad it’s understood that tonight is for a power color.

He holds out his hand, waving me by. “Lead the way,” he says.

I walk ahead, feeling them follow me. Alex’s door opens as I pass by, and I see her fall in with Misha and Ryen as the four of us head toward the bow, under the sun deck and deeper into the ship.