Requiem of the Soul (The Society Trilogy #1) - Natasha Knight Page 0,7

would do it at the ceremony in front of her family for all to see. She should have to walk naked over fiery coals to deserve your hand in marriage.”

“That’s why it isn’t up to you.”

“I still don’t understand why you have to marry her. Just torture her and be done with it.”

“You don’t have to understand.” I dismiss her coldly.

The room falls silent, and I can feel Mercedes watching me as I pick apart each dress. There is still much to be done, and her presence is only delaying my efforts. But sending her away now would only add to the salt in her wound.

I reach for the finest dress in the selection and hang it on the end of the rack. After I call for the sales assistant and tell her to package it up, Mercedes mutters under her breath.

“She doesn’t deserve to wear something so beautiful. Fucking Morenos.”

“Perhaps not, but it’s not your decision to make.”

She watches me carefully as I roam the store, seeking out a pair of heels to match. The jeweler will be here soon with a selection of rings. The rest I can send my staff to pick up. Flowers. Candles. Hairpieces. I pause in front of a lingerie display, swallowing the knot in my throat.

“You must be kidding,” Mercedes hisses. “Don’t tell me you actually plan to bed that awful woman.”

I finger the black lace and try to imagine what Ivy would look like in such a display. My enemy and my soon-to-be wife. The woman twelve years my junior. I have not seen her up close in years. Not since the explosion. But I have watched her. I know her curves, her softness, her impossibly girlish dreams of escaping this life. She will be mine to do with as I please. Mine to take. Touch. Torment.

And horrify.

As if I’ve been burned, I yank my hand away and reach for the pen in my pocket. Too late, I realize Mercedes continues to watch me like a relentless hawk, devouring my every move and silent thought for her own motives she will undoubtedly remind me of later.

“What is that?” Her eyes flick over the pen curiously.

I return it to my pocket and ignore her. A potentially dangerous move when it comes to my sister. She has a habit of unearthing information, and my reaction will only serve to intensify her curiosity. I know her well enough to understand this one universal truth about her. The woman is nothing if not determined.

She only discovered my suspicions about Eli’s betrayal because she went rifling through my office herself when I wouldn’t give her the answers she wanted. After she uncovered my files on the Moreno family, she was like a python chasing a rodent. Unstoppable. Even now, she’s practically frothing at the mouth, and I know I will have to be vigilant about the rules when it comes to Ivy.

Mercedes might want her vengeance, but she also understands her place. I am the head of the De La Rosa household. It is me who controls her life. Her destiny. And she knows better than to even blink without my approval first. It will be the same with Ivy.

Sweet, poisonous Ivy.

“When will you kill her?” Mercedes asks, her voice tinged with the need for reassurance.

I ignore her and pick out a pair of heels for my bride, much to my sister’s annoyance.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you actually want to marry this woman,” she accuses.

I glance at her so there can be no misunderstandings between us. “What I want is to destroy her. Make no mistake about it. It will be done.”

“Then tell me how?” she begs, her voice betraying a raw grief she rarely displays. “Tell me how you will kill her.”

I have only one answer for her.

“Slowly.”

3

Ivy

At a little after two in the morning, we turn onto the cul-de-sac where our home sits. Well, home is a stretch. It’s the house I grew up in. I know Hazel felt the same way, and I suspect Evangeline does too.

At least I’ll get to see her. My little sister is just thirteen years old. I’d been thirteen when things changed for me. That was the year The Society stepped into our lives in a way they hadn’t before.

The Moreno family is pretty low in the hierarchy as far as desirability in what I’ve always considered as being about a step away from a cult. There’s almost a sort of caste system, one