​Chapter 16: The Devil’s Waltz

The chandelier light shattered against the gold-leaf ceilings, but the warmth of the room felt like ice against my skin. Malakai and I moved through the crowd like a twin-edged blade, silent and incisive. Every bloodthirsty socialite in the room looked like a ghost to me—only two people mattered.

​"Wait for my signal," Malakai whispered, his voice a clandestine rasp against my ear.

​He didn't look at me; his focus was locked on the Chairman and Betty. They were moving toward a private balcony, away from the prying eyes of the Roman elite. This was our window.

​We followed them, slipping through the heavy velvet curtains just as the cool night air hit us. Betty was laughing—that high, tinkling sound that used to make me want to hide under my bed.

​"I'm telling you, Chairman," Betty said, her voice dripping with calculated greed. "Malakai is obsessed. He’s impulsive. He’ll take her to the Mediterranean and stay there until he runs out of lead. You have him cornered."

​"And the girl?" the Chairman asked, his voice like dry parchment.

​"Leona is a non-factor," Betty scoffed, waving a manicured hand. "She’s a doll. She’ll do whatever the strongest man in the room tells her to do."

​"You always did have a terrible eye for talent, mother."

​My voice cut through the air like a gunshot. Betty froze, her glass slipping from her hand and shattering on the stone floor. She turned, her face turning a ghastly shade of white as she saw me standing there—not in a tattered red dress, but in black silk, with a look in my eyes that she didn't recognize.

​Beside me, Malakai stepped out of the shadows. He didn't say a word, but his presence was suffocating. The "no joke" intensity coming off him made the Chairman take an involuntary step back toward the railing.

​"Leona?" Betty gasped, her voice trembling. "How... you’re supposed to be in hiding!"

​"Hiding is for people who are afraid to die," I said, stepping forward. I felt a furious calm. "I’ve spent nineteen years being your 'non-factor.' Tonight, I’m the one who decides your value."

​Malakai moved with predatory speed, grabbing the Chairman by the throat before the old man could reach for the panic button in his pocket. He pinned him against the marble balustrade, the city of Rome sprawling out like a graveyard behind them.

​"You sent your 'Archangels' to my sanctuary," Malakai growled, his hand tightening until the Chairman’s face turned purple. "You tried to touch what belongs to me. That’s a mistake you don't get to make twice."

​"Malakai, wait!" Betty shrieked, her eyes darting toward the door. "We can make a deal! Think of the money!"

​"The money is gone, Betty," I said, pulling the silver-plated pistol from my thigh. I didn't point it at her—not yet. I pointed it at the Chairman’s chest. "We’re not here for a deal. We’re here to start a bloodbath that ends with your names being scrubbed from history."

​The Chairman gasped for air, his eyes wide with a visceral terror. He looked at Malakai, then at me, realizing that the "doll" he’d tried to sell was now the one holding the leash.

​"The Council... will hunt you..." the Chairman managed to choke out.

​"Let them," Malakai replied, his smile dark and malevolent. "I’ve always preferred a hunt to a dance anyway."

​He looked at me, a silent question in his eyes. He was giving me the choice. He was giving me the power.

​"Do it," I whispered.

​Malakai didn't hesitate. But he didn't kill him—not yet. He leaned in close to the Chairman’s ear. "You're going to call your men off. You're going to transfer every cent of the Newtown trust to Leona. And then," he glanced at Betty, whose "bitch ass" composure was completely gone, "you’re going to tell us where the rest of the Council is hiding."

​The Roman night was silent, save for the distant sound of sirens and the heavy breathing of the people whose lives we had just dismantled. The "sin" was just beginning.