She's the reason the heart of my family had been torn apart. Because that night, I'd unwittingly chosen her. Now, years later, she's my prey.
[Season 1 'Of Crows and Thorns']
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NELLE:- Cursed by a terrifying dark power, I'm a secret hidden in plai...
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I trailed after the line of suits down the twist and turns of oversized white hallways into Byron's den. He liked this room and often held meetings there. I guess it made him feel important to be surrounded by all the antiques. Besides the oil portraits of his ancestors, adorning oak coffers were Ming dynasty urns sitting beside rose-crystal vases, pewter goblets, and ornate Dutch candlesticks. More rare antiques lined Jacobean side tables and Italian Renaissance credenzas. All a reminder to the rest of us that they'd held the mantle of Great House since the sixteenth century.
Silly little trinkets. Compared to the treasures of my family, Great House Wychthorns' was the equivalent of shopping at IKEA.
My House was ancient.
A group of armchairs in a variety of different wood and leather was arranged in a semi-circle facing the empty fireplace. Sirro chose the one that Byron favored, the leather whispering beneath his weight as he sat down. At his will, all the candles burst into flame, dappling the room in light and shadow.
The Heads of our illegal gambling arm and our brothels—Reska and Zielenski—took seats to Byron's right.
Ennio Battagli smoothed his tie flat against his shirt with a hand, easing his stocky body into the armchair beside the Horned God. He pulled a cigar out of his pocket and clipped the end. House Battagli laundered the dirty money, washing it clean with legal investments.
My family's boss, Yoran Novak folded his tall, lean body into a seat, candlelight undulating across his dark brown skin. My family was sworn to Upper House Novak. My brothers and I worked as enforcers for Novak, breaking bones, stealing souls, or ending lives. We cleaned up the messes the other Houses got themselves into and ensured the cartels and crime syndicates were kept in line. At times we were the ones stepping in if some mortal gang thought they could encroach on our territory. We'd taught the Italian mobsters a lesson in extortion; reminded the Triad and the Yakuza they worked for us, and crushed the Bratvas' mutiny.
Fun times.
Really—fun times—there was nothing better than breaking bones.
Other than fucking, of course.
Murmuring filled my ears, as the Heads quietly talked about what everyone had been called in for by Byron. This was an impromptu meeting but one of them had gone behind Byron's back informing Sirro of what I'd come across this afternoon.
My money was on Aldert Pelan, a rat-faced man with an unnerving stare as if he was more interested in what lurked beneath my skin and what it could be used for. He sat, neatly crossing an ankle over a leg, his thin fingers rapping an irritated beat on the wooden armrest. His sons had learned cruelty from him. If Evelene wasn't a Wychthorn, I might have felt sorry for her. Bruises would decorate her flesh like exquisite necklaces...if they weren't already.
Byron had given her to that House, even suspicious of Corné's true nature, merely to secure his placement as Great House.
