Page 16 of Devil’s Night (The Shadows of Darkness Universe #3)

Chapter fourteen

The Devil's Desires

Katya

T he mask slips from my face with a slow, quiet pull, and for a moment, my eyes burn with the rush of light.

When my vision clears, I stare.

The room is massive, moonlight flooding through a barred window and stretching across dark hardwood floors.

At the center sits a bed that doesn’t belong in a place like this, wide, elegant, draped in black silk sheets that shimmer under the pale glow.

Above it, a canopy frames the mattress, thin veils cascading down like a stage set for something meant to be watched.

The air is colder here, untouched by the steam of the bath I left behind.

I shiver.

The fabric I’m wrapped in is Echo’s. The oversized dress shirt hangs loose off my shoulders, brushing against my thighs with every step.

His boxers barely cling to my hips, the waistband sitting low, too low.

My damp hair clings to my back, sending chilled rivulets down my spine as I clutch the shirt tighter around me.

“You’re not putting me back down there?” My voice is quiet, unsure if it’s hope or fear that colors it more.

Echo turns toward me, his jaw tight, his tone sharper than steel. “Do you want to go back down there with Nikolai?”

I flinch at the name before shaking my head.

The collar is tighter than before, or maybe I’m just now noticing how much it presses into my skin when I speak out of turn.

The bed looks so warm.

So inviting.

Too soft for a place like this, too much like a trap.

“There are meds on the side table. Water, too. Take them. Drink. Rest,” he instructs, voice clipped. “There’ll be food in its place by morning. The windows are barred. No neighbors for miles. Door will be locked. You can try and get out, but it’ll be a waste of your energy.”

As I begin to glance around, his hand snaps out, gripping the collar and tugging hard. My body stumbles forward, a gasp caught in my throat as he yanks me closer.

“You see that?” he hisses, turning my head toward the far corner of the room.

A red light blinks above the curtain rod, just barely noticeable.

A camera.

“I am watching you. Always,” he says, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Try anything stupid, and I will know. Even if I’m not here, I’ll find out. And you know how I deal with disobedience.”

His grip tightens, then releases.

The mark of his control lingers even after his fingers are gone.

“And if I don’t listen?” I whisper.

Echo lets out a low, dark laugh as he circles me. “You want to end up like Isaac?” His hand lifts, and his finger presses hard to the center of my forehead. “Cold. Lifeless. A hole right here, blood dripping down your pretty little face?”

My breath catches, body frozen beneath his touch.

“Or,” he continues, tilting his head, “do you want a shot at survival?”

“You’re never letting me leave,” I murmur, pulse rising.

“Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t.” He smirks, stepping away. “But what’s the fun in letting Nikolai be the only one who gets to break you?”

His words are venom, each one coiling around me like a chain I can’t shake.

He’s cold again, his voice, his movements, everything about him sharp and dangerous.

But as he walks toward the door, I catch a flash of something beneath the hem of his shirt, dark streaks of something jagged, ink or blood, marring the skin of his back.

It doesn’t fit.

It doesn’t match the perfection he’s crafted into armor.

“Light,” I whisper, the word slipping from my lips before I can stop it.

His hand stills on the doorknob. “What?”

“I can’t sleep without some light.” The truth feels too vulnerable, but I say it anyway. “Just a little. Please.”

He taps his foot once. Glances around.

Then scoffs. “That’s not my problem.”

The door shuts with a heavy thud.

And I’m alone.

Utterly, completely alone.

The silence stretches, so deep and all-consuming it buzzes in my ears. The camera blinks from the corner, watching. Waiting.

My eyes fall to the bed, the black sheets glowing silver under the moonlight. They look soft. So soft.

Too soft for a prisoner.

Katya Romanov.

What the hell are you going to do?

Echo

“Rise and shine,” I sing sweetly, voice dripping with mock cheer as I tip the bucket forward.

The icy water crashes over Nikolai’s body, soaking through the bloodied gauze wrapped around his thigh. He jolts, gasping like he’s been shot all over again, limbs kicking uselessly against the restraints as his chest arches from the floor.

A low groan tears from his throat as his hands instinctively go to his leg. The wound is messy, but non-lethal. I made sure of that. Pain is more useful than death.

He pants heavily, hair clinging to his face, breath coming in uneven bursts. The rawness of it all, the desperation in his chest, the way he bites down on a scream, fills the room with something almost tangible.

“Well…” I drag the chair closer and drop into it lazily, legs spread, arms resting on my knees. “More like good night.”

He doesn’t respond, just continues to gasp like a beached animal, body writhing in the puddle he’s now trapped in.

I smile, slow and mean.

“So. Let’s try this again.”

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my thighs as I study him like a specimen.

“You and I? We’ve gotten to know each other pretty well at this point. You’ve pissed me off, I’ve returned the favor. I think-” I reach out and press two fingers into the edge of his bandaged thigh, “-you know by now just how far I’m willing to go.”

The scream he lets out vibrates through the floor, and I can’t help the smile that curls across my face.

“There it is,” I murmur. “Music.”

He collapses back, soaked and trembling.

“How can I take down Dimitri Romanov?”

“I told you,” he growls between breaths. “I don’t know-”

“I don’t believe you.”

Rising slowly, I circle him like a vulture with too much time on its hands.

“Your family has always been close with the Romanovs. Marrying his daughter? That doesn’t just happen .

That’s strategy. Eldest son. Groomed from birth.

Your father whispered things to you he wouldn’t even write down.

Sworn to secrecy, playing the loyal dog…

but what use is loyalty when your body’s rotting in a ditch? ”

His lip curls. “As useful as Katya would be.”

I still.

“You killed her, right?” he pushes. “That was the plan, wasn’t it? Break her. Bleed her. Toss her aside when she served her purpose?”

I tap my boot against the floor and stare at him. “Would it matter if I did?”

He says nothing, so I press.

“Doesn’t seem like her father had much use for her. I’ve seen fathers cling tighter to ash than he clings to her memory.”

“You don’t understand,” Nikolai mutters, eyes darkening. “Dimitri was afraid of Katya.”

That gets my attention.

He sees it. Smiles through the pain.

“Afraid of what she could become. What she’d do if she ever got the full picture.

Katya was always… dangerous. Nontraditional.

Watching throats slit and not blinking. Passing trays when the coke was lined up.

Turning her head when punishments were handed out.

She never bought into the system, she just danced around it. ”

“Soft,” I murmur, testing the word on my tongue.

“Soft in all the wrong places,” Nikolai snaps.

“And ruthless where no one needed her to be. She cut my sister, cut her, for talking back. Threatened Pavlov for working the girls too hard. Fought her own brother like he was a stranger. And the men who disrespected her mother?” He huffs. “Gone. Just... disappeared.”

He leans forward, jaw clenched tight.

“She moved like a shadow. Quiet. Vicious. Always watching. Tell me, how does a woman like that learn the truth about Dimitri’s operations and not burn it all to the ground?”

My fists curl.

“She needed to be broken,” he continues. “Dimitri knew it. Isaac knew it. Even her mother fucking knew it. My job as her husband was to keep her in line. To keep her ignorant . Killing her? That would’ve been a relief for Dimitri. A burden lifted.”

My face must shift, just barely, but he sees it.

And it makes him laugh.

“Is that shock I see, Echo?” he breathes, bloodied teeth flashing.

I say nothing.

Because for the first time, I don’t know what I feel.

Nikolai keeps going, voice lower now, like he’s twisting the knife. “The worst part? She’s not dead. She’s with you. And that? That scares him more than anything.”

He licks his split lip, watching me unravel.

“His daughter. His shadow. The one thing he’s always been able to control… now gone. And completely out of his reach.”

“You’re lying,” I whisper.

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “But you’ll never know, will you?”

His smile is all teeth and blood, and for a moment, I think I might actually kill him.

But I don’t.

Because now… I need to know if she’s still his.

Or already mine.