Page 52 of A Breath of Life (Shadowy Solutions #4)
The Consigliere’s voice made me jerk my attention from the screen. “Wave at the camera. You have an audience.”
The man on the screen turned and glanced directly at the lens. A wicked grin filled his face as he fluttered his fingers. Nana, too lost in her mind to understand, waved too.
“Now is a good time,” the Consigliere told him.
The man hung up and repocketed his phone. He fanned the playing cards and displayed them to Nana. Even when I couldn’t hear him speak, I knew he asked her to select one. With shaking fingers, she pulled one from the pile, a girlish smile on her face like they were involved in a game.
The man said something and pointed at the camera, and Nana showed the camera her card. I knew what it would be before she turned it around, but still, I held my breath.
The ace of spades.
I shattered.
An unearthly roar left my throat, and I thrashed and tore at the bindings around my hands as the Bishop removed the tablet from reach.
“You motherfucker.” The wire cut into my flesh, but I felt nothing as I spat and cursed and threw my body against the restraints.
“Let me go. Untie me. If you fucking touch her, I will kill you. I will fucking kill you!”
“Control him,” the Consigliere shouted over my rage.
The Bishop snagged a handful of my hair and yanked my head back until my neck was fully exposed. Instead of the letter opener, he held the needle point of a dagger under my eye, pressing hard enough to indent the skin.
I stilled instantly, but the internal shake of rage wouldn’t cease.
One wrong move, and I had no doubt, the Bishop would happily blind me.
I wanted blood. I wanted to hit something.
Someone . I wanted to break bones and faces.
Black spots appeared in my vision, and I gritted my teeth so hard it was a wonder they didn’t shatter.
Counting didn’t work. My blood boiled with venom.
I closed my eyes and thought of quiet nights with Tallus when he would drag his fingertips over my scalp and share about his day at the office, when he would rest his head on my chest and listen to my heart.
I tumbled further back in time. Baking cookies with Nana. Visiting the craft store and helping her pick yarn for a new project.
The Bishop’s voice drew me back to reality.
“That’s a mighty nasty scar you’ve got on your cheek.
I should give you a matching one over here.
” He dragged the dagger’s edge over my skin.
A faint sting erupted in its wake, and I grappled desperately for control, willing my body and tongue to remain still.
I was ten years old again. Don’t talk. Don’t fight. Submit. Submit. Submit. A bike chain. Broken skin.
“Oops. My bad. I seem to have made you bleed.”
It was merely a scratch. A warning. It was nothing.
You’re nothing.
Heart thundering in my ears, my brain a cacophony of noisy memories from my past, I didn’t hear the Consigliere’s first demand that I look at him. It took the Bishop repeating it for me to comply.
The Consigliere stood close enough that he hovered over me.
I wanted to launch at his face and sink my teeth into him, but with my neck forcibly craned and the knife’s point back under my eye, I remained still.
The feral beast inside me wouldn’t calm, but it knew enough to wait for the right moment.
Every exhale came out on a growl. The bear, Tallus called it. He was rabid and itching for a kill.
The Consigliere spoke again. It took everything in me to focus on his words.
“Control yourself, Mr. Krause. All it would take is one word from me, and my friend at the home would end your sweet grandmother’s life.
She’s elderly. A simple injection of succinylcholine would be effective in stopping her heart and wouldn’t show up in an autopsy.
Her death would easily be attributed to old age.
Her nurse happens to be carrying a syringeful in his pocket.
Would you like me to make that phone call? ”
“No,” I rasped. “Please… Leave her alone.”
“Bring your temper down. You don’t get a second warning.”
The Bishop released me at a nod from the Consigliere. My entire body was an earthquake, a tsunami, but I didn’t lash out and test my bindings.
“Where has your friend gone?” the Consigliere asked.
“I don’t know. I figured you’d caught him.”
“What does he know of our situation?”
I hesitated, but the Consigliere added, “Don’t lie to me.”
“Everything.”
He nodded as though he assumed. “That’s a problem.” He paced. “How smart is your young lover?”
“Why?”
“Did you train him in investigative work yourself? Has he any skill?”
I frowned, not comprehending.
With a smirk, the Consigliere withdrew my phone from the same interior pocket as he’d stored the card. “Passcode, Mr. Krause.”
I rhymed it off, knowing better than to refuse. A niggling worry in my gut made me tense.
The man tapped at the screen and put the device to his ear. To me, he said, “I hope he’s brilliant because you’ve just put your grandmother’s life in his hands.”