Nightfall (Devil's Night #4) - Penelope Douglas Page 0,89

looked at him.

“When we’re done with her,” he clarified.

Rain tapped against the kitchen window over the sink, the sun already set as Rory and Micah walked into the room, dressed in their best as Micah rushed over to her side and smelled the food.

She didn’t smile back at him, but she didn’t move away, either.

“Did she ever mention what kind of alcohol she likes?” Aydin asked. “Vodka, rum…? Might help her loosen up. I was thinking of sharing tonight.”

I turned my gaze on him, straightening my spine at the threat.

Get her drunk. Get everyone drunk.

No.

He yanked out the last stitch, and I hissed, drawing everyone’s attention as they looked over at us.

Aydin leaned into my ear, whispering, “You think I don’t know you’re planning something?”

His breath ran down my neck, and fear coursed through me. I hated having him so close.

“You’ve spent a year whispering in their ears, trying to turn them against me,” he gritted out, “but you’ll never be able to do what’s necessary to take power, here or anywhere in life, William Grayson.” He dropped his tool, meeting my eyes. “You have no idea what it takes to be me.”

He moved away, and I held Emmy’s eyes as she watched us, paused in her stirring.

I remembered similar sentiments from her years ago, and a similar feeling around my friends even.

Nothing had changed for me here.

Not yet.

• • •

Thunder cracked outside, rain pummeling the windows, and I glared at Emmy as everyone sat at the dining room table and dug into their sandwiches. Her presence made everything harder.

I was going to kill Michael when I got home. I was going to drench his fancy, fucking suit in his own blood for sending her here.

“How did you know I was an architect?” Emmy suddenly asked.

I shot my eyes to Aydin.

He stared at her, looking confused.

“The gift,” she reminded him.

What gift?

“I…didn’t,” he answered. “There’s not much to do here. Figured you’d enjoy drawing.”

He gave her drawing pencils? Where did he get drawing pencils?

He sat there in his expensive black suit and black shirt, all of us dressed and shaved at Aydin’s insistence.

I had to admit, nice clothes made me feel human again, but I didn’t appreciate this prelude to whatever he was planning. Micah, Rory, and Taylor enjoyed the bourbon Aydin gifted to the table, chowing down on their sandwiches and sucking down shot after shot.

Emmy scooped up some soup she made with the entrée, sipping spoonfuls, while I tried to resist the sandwich as much as the alcohol.

I eyed the bottle of liquor, my tongue like sandpaper in my mouth. I wanted the burn of the drink in my throat. I’d been clean for almost two years, but only sober for one, and it was still hard.

I was sure Aydin knew that, and corrupting me was part of his plan.

I pushed the glass he’d offered away toward Micah.

“What kind of work do you specialize in?” Aydin asked her. “Homes? Skyscrapers?”

“Restoration,” she murmured. “Churches, hotels, city buildings…” And then she looked at me. “Gazebos.”

I forced a slight smirk, letting her know that I knew that she knew what I did to hers.

She may not have deserved it, but…

Okay, yeah, she kind of deserved it after she laid waste to my fucking heart. I wanted to break something of hers, too.

Fuck it. I was drunk and pissed that night.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Aydin told her.

She half-smiled, looking around the room. “Think they’d mind if I cleaned the place up a bit?”

“You already do.”

She laughed, and I swore I saw a blush cross her cheeks.

She continued drinking the broth, and I cocked my head, studying her.

She was flushed. Why?

“So did Will ever tell you about Devil’s Night?” she asked him. “We celebrate it in Thunder Bay. It’s coming up, actually.”

Then she looked at me, leaned back against her chair, and pulled at the collar of her shirt like she was hot.

I tensed. Something was off about her right now.

“In fact, I hear one of his best friends is getting married that night,” she said to him, but really to me.

Michael and Rika? Didn’t know that, but she didn’t need to know that. I hid my surprise.

“He doesn’t talk about home much,” Aydin replied.

Because when people know what you love, they know your weakness, and I didn’t trust Aydin. I was here to gain strength. Not bring more enemies down on my family.

Emmy continued, “It’s an annual festival of sorts, but it basically boils down to local rich kids basking