Like a puppet, dangling on her strings.
“I was there,” he fumed. “He was murdered. And it was your fault.”
She pursed her lips and poured herself a cup of tea from the black pot with the jagged handle. Levi could tell it was her favorite blend—the tea smelled bitter, even from across the room.
“How exactly am I responsible for the death of your business partner?” she asked. Her gaze roamed up his body and his clothes, searching for tears and bruises and weak spots like a miner searching for gold.
“Sedric’s thugs locked him in a building and burned the place down.” Levi shuddered—he could still see the flames when he closed his eyes.
“You think killing Reymond—who was a perfectly successful criminal in his own right—was a message for you? How...” She sipped her tea. “Narcissistic.”
His nostrils flared. “I know it was a message for me.” He took the two Shadow Cards out of his pocket and tossed them on her desk.
She paled. The silver backs of the cards glinted like blades in the lamplight. Shakily, she reached for them. “How did you get these?” she rasped. She traced a long manicured nail over one of the edges, as though searching for a trick.
“They were gifts from Sedric Torren. One three nights ago. One today.”
“The House of Shadows has been empty since the Great Street War.” The House of Shadows was the mysterious mansion where the Phoenix Club had once played the Shadow Game. Legend claimed it was haunted.
“Not anymore,” Levi said. He didn’t add what he knew about Lourdes Alfero, that he might not have been the Phoenix Club’s first victim since their grand reopening.
“Six more days,” she read. “Until what?”
“Until my deadline. Until I’m dead.” He slammed his hands on her desk. “Ten thousand volts. Are you happy now? Your scam is going to get me killed.” He took the clock off her desk and chucked it against the wall. It shattered. Vianca didn’t even wince, which only enraged him further. Nothing touched her, yet every attack pierced him. “And where were you? Away! Away campaigning for a hopeless election that’s already rigged against you.”
She said nothing, which was fine with Levi. He wasn’t finished yet.
“And Enne! I bring her here because she needed help. Thick of me to trust that you, just once, would actually help someone. Help me.” He panted, out of breath from shouting. The secretary outside had probably heard everything he said, but he didn’t care. He was furious enough to kill Vianca...if only he could.
Slowly, Vianca stood up, and Levi instantly felt smaller. Younger. Weaker.
“I don’t know how you managed to find out about Miss Salta, but we can talk about that in a moment. Let’s talk about you first.” She flicked her hand, and Levi’s body crumpled automatically into a chair. As if by invisible restraints, his wrists tethered themselves to the armrests, and his head leaned back, exposing his neck. Even as he writhed, he was powerless to get up. “Let’s talk about us.” She dragged her jagged fingernail across his throat. Levi swallowed, hating the fear flooding into his chest.
“You walk around here like you’re some kind of prince, but even you’re disposable.”
“Am I?” he challenged. He didn’t know much about Vianca’s other associates—she kept him decidedly separate from most aspects of her business—but he knew he was her favorite. She’d been attached to him from the moment she met him. Otherwise, why waste one of her precious three omertas on just a boy? She’d spotted a stray puppy and had wanted to keep him. Even if he was her most successful card dealer, the city was full of card dealers. That wasn’t why he mattered. He was indispensable because he was the only person Vianca Augustine cared about—and that was why she tormented him.
“Of course you are,” she seethed. Her nails dug into his shoulder, and he winced. “Really, Levi, I never would’ve expected this sort of fear from you. It’s unbecoming.”
“Only a fool wouldn’t fear the Phoenix Club,” he said. Vianca wouldn’t challenge that. She feared them, too, just like everyone else who’d heard the legends of New Reynes and knew them to be true.
“I know you, dear,” Vianca murmured. “You love power. You love to hold all the cards in your hand and make a good show. But your poker face needs work. I can read you like the tea leaves in the bottom of this cup.” She poured the steaming tea on his shirt, staining it. The heat didn’t bother him due to his blood talent, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that Vianca could do whatever she liked, and Levi was helpless to stop her. “You’re supposed to be great, Levi. You’re the Iron Lord. Yet you let the city decide your fate for you.”
“None of this was my choice,” he growled.
“Really? You take none of the responsibility?” She turned away and released him from his restraints. He snapped forward and rubbed his neck where she had grazed him, as though her touch alone had left behind a scar. “Maybe you could be better. All this time, I’ve been trying to make you better.”
“For what?”
She smiled and sat back down behind her desk. “Use your imagination.”
He held back a roll of his eyes. She was always so mucking dramatic. Maybe she had time for her games, but his was running out.
“Why did you choose Enne?” he asked.
“You might wear a suit, but you’re not exactly someone I can send to the South Side. She’ll have her uses.” Vianca didn’t know the half of it. If she discovered Enne was the daughter of Lourdes Alfero, she’d utterly exploit her to the monarchists. And it would be Enne who was killed, in the end—not Vianca. Never Vianca.
“Like with Sedric Torren?” he asked, his voice quiet and steady and laced with hate.
“That was a fortunate coincidence. She looks very his type.”
Levi clenched his fists. All of the North Side was aware of Sedric’s reputation. “That’s repulsive.”
“Oh, I agree. Who better to strike such a man where it hurts?”
“Don’t pretend that anything motivated you besides your own sick mind.”
She tsked. “Watch what you say. I thought you were here asking for my help, Levi.”
“It’s not just help. You owe me.”
“I owe you?”
“Sedric is going to kill me over your investment scheme, and you made Enne one of your twisted playthings. Yeah. I’d say you owe me.”
She leaned forward and clicked her fingernails together. “Because I bestowed my omerta on Miss Salta, you are the one who deserves the recompense?”
He stumbled over his words. She made him sound like a brat. “You’re dangling me as bait in front of your enemies.”
“I’ve provided you with a place to live and steady income.”
“You do that for all your employees.”
“Ah, yes. You’re special.”
She was trying to make him feel like an egotistical child, and he wanted to strangle her. He wanted to summon a fire that left burn marks around her neck.
“Yes, I’m special,” he growled. “I helped bankrupt all your competitors. I’ve made you plenty of volts dealing, not to mention thousands through the investment scheme. Thousands you managed to lose overnight. Your empire is falling.”
Her lips played at a smile. She poured herself a new cup of tea. “And your empire? How are the Irons faring lately? How is their lord treating them?”
Oh, she was keeping tabs on his gang now? “Stop comparing us. We’re not the same.”
“You’re the spitting image of me.” Somehow her voice was proud and ruthless all at once.
“Then it’s no wonder the Irons are crumbling,” he snapped. “Must’ve gotten that from you.”