Marcello sat in the oversized plush armchair by the window. He sipped from his glass and rested it on his knee, staring at me. “Why are you giving me that look?”
I smiled. “I could use a drink.”
He set the highball glass on the table beside him and got up from the chair. “What do you want?”
“Sweet tea.”
Marcello blew out a deep breath and pointed at the bed. “Don’t move.”
I held up my hands in surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of it, boss man.”
He snickered at my nickname and left my bedroom in a hurry. With only a minute to dump the crushed pills into his drink, I removed the cellophane bag from under my pillow and slid off the bed.
Aiden was alive.
I felt it in my bones.
I was making the right choice.
The Salvatores forced me to do this.
Even though I felt like a horrible person for drugging Marcello, it only seemed fair, considering he had done it to me. I emptied the contents of the bag into his drink and stirred the white powder with my finger. From a distance, I heard Marcello’s footsteps coming closer to my room. I shoved the empty bag under my blankets and hopped into bed.
Marcello walked into the room a few seconds later and handed me a glass of sweet tea.
I smiled. “Thanks.”
He winked, then dropped back into his chair, downing half of his drink in one gulp. I studied his face as I sipped my tea.
He lifted my sketchbook and a charcoal pencil from the table. “Luca wants you to draw something for him.”
I took it from his hand. “What did he have in mind?”
“He said to surprise him.”
Which meant sketch another Devil painting.
I set my art supplies on the bed and flipped to a new page, hoping the pills would kick in before Luca finished with business. Resting the sketchbook on my thighs, I gripped the charcoal pencil and considered Luca’s latest mood.
You’re not a terrible person.
You’re doing this for your family.
The Salvatores would do the same.
I leaned my back against the headboard and glided the pencil across the pad. Marcello yawned, covering his mouth with his hand.
“Tired?”
He yawned again. “I haven’t slept in two days.”
A few minutes later, Marcello’s head hit the back of the chair. Not long after, his snores cut through the silence. I dropped the sketchpad and pencil on the bed, waiting another minute before I slid off the mattress. I opened the door and popped my head into the hallway.
At this hour, the house was silent. The sconces burned on the walls, casting a soft glow on the walnut floor. I took one last glance at a sleeping Marcello, who looked as beautiful as his brother. Attempting to steady my rapid breathing, I inched my back along the wall to avoid the camera in the hallway’s corner.
As I ascended the stairs, I held my breath, careful not to make a sound. My heart hammered in my chest the second my feet hit the top landing. Every nerve ending in my body fired off at once from the adrenaline rushing through my veins. Focused on the task, I slid my back along the wall to avoid the cameras. At least I had one thing going for me—no guards in the hall, no one protecting the heir to this castle on the sea.
I tiptoed past Luca’s office. His voice boomed through the closed door, and I held my breath, hoping Luca did not hear me. A moment passed before he barked one order after another. I used this to my advantage and rushed down the hall.
Glancing over my shoulder one last time, I slipped inside the library. My eyes swept over the two-story room with vaulted ceilings, scanning the endless cases of books as I made my way toward the front of the room. On my way across the dusty space, I grabbed a wooden chair from a desk piled high with leather-bound books. I stared at the title on the top called Secrets of the Knighthood.
Under different circumstances, I would have sat down and devoured the pages, desperate to learn anything I could about The Devil’s Knights and their rituals. But I had little time to waste before someone noticed I escaped.
I dragged the chair across the hardwood floor and pushed it in front of the middle bookcase. All the spines looked similar except for The Count of Monte Cristo, with its navy blue binding and gold writing that stood out amongst the sea of blacks and grays. I reached for the book, pulled it down, and hopped off the chair.
With my hand on the center shelf, I pushed, and it swung inward. I stared down at the stone encasement and its narrow spiral staircase that made my mouth go dry. At least there were lights built into the walls, providing the way. A pang of anxiety crept up the back of my throat. I doubted my fear of dark, small spaces would ever go away.