Reaping The Red Heir

16. Checkmate

As Thalia and I stepped into the library, the rich scent of aged parchment and polished wood enveloped us. The room was dimly lit, with flickering candles casting long shadows on the tall shelves crammed with books. Pierce lounged in an armchair by the fireplace, a book in hand, a glass of whiskey in the other.

"Did you take care of the skinwalker?" he asked, his tone casual as if inquiring about the weather.

I exchanged a glance with Thalia, noting the sudden tension in her frame. "Yes, we did,"

Thalia's eyes narrowed, suspicion seeping into her eyes. "You knew about the skinwalker?"

His gaze flicked up lazily from his book as he regarded her. "Of course I did," he replied smoothly, unruffled by her anger.

Her fists clenched at her sides. "Did you summon it?"

Pierce closed his book with a soft thud, the sound almost lost in the crackling of the fireplace. He leaned back in his chair, regarding us with a measured look. "Summoning it would be an overstatement."

Thalia's face twisted in anger. "You killed Liora then? Using that abomination?"

Pierce shook his head slowly. "No, dear sister," he replied, his voice dripping with a patronizing tone. "Liora wasn't killed by the skinwalker."

"Then who?"

"Watch your tone, sister. Remember who you're speaking to."

"Who then, my Prince?" Thalia said in a deceiving calm.

"A rogue human man," Pierce said simply. "He's confined within the stone walls of the twelfth cell, anticipating your chosen form of revenge."

Before I could blink, Thalia disappeared in a blur of motion, leaving me alone with Pierce.

I slowly walked over to the chair across from the pompous vampire. "Do you mind?" I asked, gesturing to the chair. I didn't bother waiting for a response and took a seat, resting my bow gently on the ground. Shifting, I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees.

I wanted to play.

I wanted to delve into the depths of his twisted, sadistic mind—a mind that, as a fellow sociopath, I found all too enticing despite my disgust for his kind.

Pierce's gaze met mine, unsettling in its tranquility. His lips curled into a charming smile as he leisurely lifted his glass of whiskey to his lips, savoring a slow sip. The silence stretched taut between us.

A shiver of anticipation ran through me. Oh yes, this was going to be fun.

Finally, he set his glass down with a soft clink, the sound echoing in the vast room. "You seem troubled," he remarked, his voice smooth as silk, "Is there something on your mind?"

I offered a tight smile, my palms pressing against my cheeks as if to emphasize it. "Oh, you clever devil. You know exactly what's on my mind."

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. "Ah, but articulating it might help," he suggested. "Communication is key, after all."

"Mmh," I hummed nonchalantly, my eyes never leaving his. I leaned back in my chair, crossing one leg over the other. "Why did you have us hunt the skinwalker if you knew who killed Liora all along? I believe you misled us, prince."

Pierce shook his head, a faint trace of disapproval in his gesture. "Now, now, little Reaper," he chided gently, "I never misled you. I assigned you to aid Thalia in tracking down the killer. By mere circumstance, I stumbled upon him before you could, and you, unfortunately—" He shrugged, "encountered something far more terrifying."