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Covering her mouth with her hand, Yvette gazed at Madame Quaan slumped on the ground. The madame stirred, raising her head. Riella lifted her with one hand and pinned her against the wall by her throat.

“If you say one more word to her,” said the siren through gritted teeth. “I will disembowel you with my bare hands. And this time, I do mean it.”

Madame Quaan hesitated, searching the siren’s face. She must’ve discerned that Riella was telling the truth, because she visibly quailed, swallowing hard under Riella’s hand.

“Now, open the stronghold,” said Riella.

“I can’t.” Her voice wavered slightly, but her eyes were as icy as ever. “Only my blood will open it, but the blood has to be willingly given. And I don’t give it to you willingly. I will never, no matter what you do, because nothing in this world means anything to me, except what’s in that stronghold. I’ll gladly die before I relinquish all I have worked for. Especially to a mutant half-breed like you, or a common criminal like him.”

Her eyes slid in Jarin’s direction. With a triumphant smirk, she removed one of her gloves and held up her hand. Cuts and scars crisscrossed her palm many times over. Some marks were old and silvery, while others were fresh and pink.

Riella’s heart sank. Naturally, a person this shrewd and heartless would protect her riches with her very love for those riches. It was brilliant, if not highly inconvenient for Riella and her cause.

“Let’s try anyway.” Jarin scowled, reaching for the handle of his cutlass. “We’ll try until she bleeds out.”

“No!” said Yvette, stepping forward.

Madame Quaan blinked at her, as if she’d forgotten the younger woman was even there.

Yvette’s face was still pale, but her chin now had a determined jut. “Don’t bother.”

Taking a discreet, bone-handled dagger from the sleeve of her dress, she crossed the room.

In front of the stronghold, she touched the short blade to the palm of her hand. Madame Quaan’s expression morphed from confusion to horror, her mouth falling open in realization. Riella shared a puzzled glance with Jarin.

“I’m not completely ungrateful, mother,” said Yvette to Madame Quaan. “I am very grateful for your arrogance. You constantly overestimate yourself, and underestimate every person around you. Most of all, me.”

Madame Quaan struggled against Riella’s steely grip, gasping and spitting in panic. The older woman could do nothing except watch as Yvette cut her hand and pressed her bleeding palm to the metal door.

CHAPTER 12

Riella held her breath while Yvette took her hand from the door.

The metal came alive, the surface writhing and shifting like a hurricane sky. Then, just as suddenly, the surface froze. The door sprang open, which elicited a choked groan from Madame Quaan.

The stronghold’s interior was far larger than appeared possible from the outside. It was low-ceilinged and dark with shadows, brightened only by columns of solid silver and gold coins, and piles of jewelry and trinkets.

After Riella’s astonishment wore off, she was overcome by disgust. Not only had Madame Quaan sold her own daughter, she’d hoarded more wealth than she could ever spend in her lifetime.

Yvette’s eyes bulged at the riches, before profound sorrow washed over her beautiful features. Then, she glared at Madame Quaan with such resentment that a chill shot down Riella’s spine for being in the same line of sight. But the older woman showed no remorse, seething under Riella’s grip, albeit silently.

“Not a bad haul,” said Jarin in approval.

He stood over Gerret’s inert body, his arms folded.

“It’s not ours,” said Riella.

“I know that.” There was an indignant note to his voice. “I was just saying.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Riella reminded herself to stop assuming the worst of him. He hadn’t really done anything to deserve her scorn, except exist, and blackmail her into murder.

But she did stab him in the heart, so perhaps she ought to let the blackmail slide.

Sehild and Odeya entered through the demolished doorway, their wary expressions turning to amazement when they saw the stronghold.

“Wow,” said Odeya to Madame Quaan. “I knew you were fleecing us, but . . . wow.”