Page 43 of House of Sin
“It’s him. He’s ...” She paused, like she couldn’t find the right words. “When he looks at me, I just feelgross, like I’m being ripped open. And then there’s this rage. A fire that makes me want to burn it all down, everything that’s ever given him that kind of power.”
“Then we burn it all down,” Maeve added while raising her glass to her lips.
I stayed quiet for a moment, watching Violet. I didn’t like seeing her like this. The strong, fierce woman I knew was buried beneath something tonight, and it made me uneasy. “We’ve all got a problemwith him,” I said softly, my eyes finding hers. “But he’s just a man, Violet. We can’t let fear take over.”
Violet’s mouth curled into a smile that suggested her restraint was entirely voluntary. “I’m not scared, Birdie, just ... pissed.”
Maeve let out a slow breath, then reached across the table and nudged Violet’s hand with the back of her fingers. “Well then,” she said, her tone lighter now, though her eyes still burned. “Let’s be pissed together. Gods know it’s better than bein’ scared alone.”
Elona chuckled and rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. “I swear, if we all had a coin for every time we had to pick each other up after someone’s sorry excuse for justice, we’d have bought our own church by now.”
“Aye,” Maeve said with a smirk. “And we’d run it better too. No fire and brimstone, just good food, strong drink, and a choir of women who can hit notes high enough to shatter glass and egos alike.”
Nell snorted. “I’d gladly pay my tithe for that.”
Violet’s fingers finally stilled on the rim of her glass, her shoulders eased, and she looked up with a smallsmile creeping onto her face. “You all are ridiculous.” She said, shaking her head.
“And you love us for it,” Elona said with a wink.
Emil leaned forward, his tone wry. “If we’re founding a new order, I demand kitchen duties be rotated. I’m not scrubbing pots for eternity.”
“Fair enough,” I said, finally feeling a smile break free, “but I get to pick the wine.”
“Deal.” Violet said, voice stronger now. “Just as long as we never invite Father Frederick.”
Elona raised her glass. “To new orders. And better sermons.”
We all lifted our glasses and the soft clink rang out. No one spoke after the toast, we just sat there, breathing the same air, eating the same bread, carrying the same fire.
Whatever was coming, it hadn’t taken us yet. And that wasenough . . . for now.
27
THE ANTE IS BLOOD, AND I’LL RAISE YOU HELL
Tonight, the brothel pulsed with its usual chaotic rhythm, even as the words from yesterday’s sermon still lingered in the back of everyone’s minds. Laughter bubbled up, glasses clinked, and the soft notes of the piano twisted through the air. Lantern light fluttered overhead, casting playful shadows onpatrons’ faces, some lounging in plush chairs, others leaning against the bar, voices weaving in and out. Outside, the world waited with its battles and threats, but in here, for these hours, the music, the drinks, and the company took hold.
I smirked as I watched Violet work her magic at the bar. She was perched on a stool, her back arched just right, catching the eye of a tall man in a black hat who had just walked in. He looked a little out of place, all dark eyes and nervous energy, but Violet was a different story. She leaned forward, letting the silk of her dress slip just enough to give him a glimpse of skin, and it worked like a charm. I could practically see the poor guy squirm as she flashed him that knowing smile. “How’s about a drink and a little company, darlin’?” She purred.
The man stammered, clearly caught off guard by her presence. “Of course, miss. A drink for your company, any day.”
Violet smiled, enjoying the effect she had. “Then let’s make sure the company lasts longer than the whiskey, shall we?” She slid the bottle toward him, her fingers brushing against his hand in just the rightway. It was deliberate, designed to create an electric charge between them. He’d be thinking about that touch long after the night ended. I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself, watching the whole thing unfold. Violet was a master at this, dangerous, yet undeniably charming.
But tonight, I had my own plans. I moved through the crowd, eyes darting around to take in every detail. While Elona’s laughter rang through the room, drawing people in, Maeve caught my attention. She was sprawled in her chair, one arm slung over the back, the other holding her cards like they were an afterthought. But there was nothing casual about Maeve, not when she was at a table.
“Right, lads,” she said, her voice carrying a lazy charm. “Are we playing cards, or are we all just here to see how many chips you can toss away before your pride gives out?”
The man to her left, a slick-haired sort who reeked of cheap cologne and desperation, laughed. “Just admiring your technique, Miss Maeve. It’s. . . impressive.”
Maeve raised a brow. “That’s a very polite way of saying you’ve no idea what you’re doin’. Here’s a tip: flattery won’t save your arse when I clean you out.” The other men at the table chuckled nervously, but she had them: hook, line, and ego.
Another player, bearded and older, with a cigar clamped between yellowed teeth, leaned in with a crooked grin. “You always run your mouth this much when you’re bluffing?”
Maeve took a slow sip from her glass, then set it down with a soft thud. “Only when I’m bored. And Gods help me, you lot are duller than communion wine.” She tossed in her chips. “Raise.” The pile of chips in the middle was growing, but so was the unease. Maeve was all confidence, and behind those green eyes was meticulous calculation.
“You’ve a poker face, I’ll give you that,” the younger one muttered, eyeing her nervously.
Elona, lounging nearby with a flute of champagne, gave a soft laugh. “Careful boys, Maeve doesn’t bluff, shehunts.”
