Perhaps Rouge had the apartment number changed to reflect her birthday. I’ve given up trying to understand how her mind works. The elevator doors open to a long, narrow hallway lined in pinstriped wallpaper with a glossy red door at the end. From here, the apartment’s numbers printed on the door almost glow with their resident’s malice.

  We approach the door. Rouge has a smart lock on it with a code.

  “What do you think the code is?” I whisper to Bianca.

  “The only code I can think of is the same one she uses for the back door at Aces. Her birthday. Zero-six-one-zero. But there’s no way that’s her code for her apartment. Not when it’s literally the apartment’s number.”

  “Unless that’s exactly what she wants you to think,” Vanya says.

  “Worth a shot.” Bianca bends over, enters in the four digits.

  The smart lock beeps, a green light flashes, and the whirring of gears sounds from behind the lock.

  “No fucking way,” I say. “That’s too easy.” I try the door. It opens. I close it quietly, look back at the rest of the group. “I guess no one knows that Rouge lives here, and no one knows her birthday, so…” I rub my forehead. “I don’t know.”

  “It is difficult to fathom to inner machinations of a Queen’s mind,” Chet murmurs.

  “Thank you for that, Chet.” I roll my eyes before redirecting them to the rest of the group. “Anyway, we have no idea what might await us behind this door. You guys have to be ready for anything, okay?”

  Bianca nods. “We’ll take on anything that confronts us together.”

  I open the door. The four of us step into Rouge’s apartment. It’s decorated with the exact amount of immoderation I expected. All reds, everything drenched in her precious red diamonds. We open first to a lavish living room furnished with sleek velvet couches in a deep crimson encircling a plush rug of the same color. A square-shaped antique coffee table in dark cherry and a cast iron fireplace. On the mantle are figurines of a spade, a diamond, a club, and a heart carved out of ruby. The entire space is lit by a chandelier crafted from blood-red stained glass that scatters dark-pink light across the space.

  The area is immaculate, as though no one has been in here for days. I can hardly imagine Rouge doing something as common as sitting down in her living room with a good book, so this place is purely for show. Odd, considering Rouge doesn’t want anyone to know where she lives.

  Maybe the show is just for her.

  A small part of me would be fascinated to get inside this woman’s head.

  But the bulk of me would be terrified.

  I lean into Bianca’s ear. “I guess we can’t have any doubt this is your sister’s apartment.”

  She gives a small smile. “Subtlety was never her strong suit.”

  I can’t help a smile myself. Bianca said the same thing when we entered the ladies’ room at Aces before we discovered the cooler of hearts. At least she hasn’t lost her sense of humor, even in the face of certain conflict. Perhaps even death.

  A chill runs through me.

  No. Need to focus.

  We move to Rouge’s dining room, which is dominated by a huge table covered in red velvet. An ornate candelabra sits in the center, flanked by large salt and pepper grinders in the shapes of chess pieces. A buffet topped by a china cabinet stands at the other end of the room. Inside is a set of china, bright scarlet with gold trim. I open a wide drawer to reveal a gleaming set of silverware, including an impressive set of steak knives. I pocket one.

  Still no Rouge.

  We move then to her powder room, her private library, and a large balcony overlooking the Chicago skyline. We work our way through her apartment until we have only one room left.

  Her bedroom.

  My heart drops as we approach the door. Unlike everything else in Rouge’s apartment, it is painted in the darkest shade of obsidian. I press an ear against the door.

  Stifled sounds of moaning, as if someone is bound and gagged in Rouge’s bed.

  I look to Bianca. “Someone’s in there. And it’s not just Rouge.”

  She swallows but then steadies her beautiful face. “Do you think she has the Kings with her?”

  “Possibly. But it sounds like she might also have a hostage or something. Like someone is trying to speak but they have duct tape over their mouths.”

  She widens her eyes. “You don’t think… Alissa and Maddox?”

  “Fuck,” I whisper. “We should have checked in with Dinah before getting here.” I pull out my cell phone. “Rouge must have something that blocks cell signal here. I have no bars.”

  “Then there’s only one thing to do.” Bianca places her hand on the doorknob. “Whatever is in here, we’ll tackle it together.”

  I place my hand on top of hers. “That we will, babe.” I look back at Chet and Vanya. “You guys ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “Indubitably.”

  I give Bianca’s hand one last squeeze, and we open the door together.

  And my heart sinks.

  Because not only are we greeted by the grinning mug of Rouge Montrose, who seems completely unsurprised to see the four of us.

  But the couple in the bed, tied up and gagged like rodeo steers…

  They aren’t Maddox and Alissa.

  It’s two different people.

  Two people I recognize instantly.

  And I know why they’re in this bed. I know exactly fucking why.

  Jesus Christ.

  We’re so fucked.

  37

  BIANCA

  My eyebrow keeps twitching.

  Mommy says I’m not old enough to drink coffee.

  She says that’s the reason her eyebrow twitches sometimes.

  So why is mine twitching?

  Rougey is leading me down to the basement, her hand gripping mine like her life depends on it.

  She’s going to show me a new game. One that grown-ups play, I guess.

  I don’t know much about grown-up games. Mommy and Daddy sometimes play a game called Taboo when they have friends over.

  Maybe that’s what Rougey is going to show me. Taboo.

  Rougey closes the basement door and drags me down the staircase.

  Our basement is unfinished. That’s what Daddy says. We live in a big house, so we don’t need the basement for anything besides storage. The walls are made of the same material as sidewalks, and the floors are wood. Daddy says he’s going to pay a man to make it look like the rest of our house eventually, but that he’s too focused right now on his clubs downtown to get that done. Mommy could supervise, but he told me in secret he doesn’t trust her to get it done without him helping her make decisions.

  So we rarely go down here. Daddy has a set of weights and a treadmill in the corner, and there’s an old set of couches that used to be in our fancy living room upstairs before we upgraded, but it’s mostly empty space with a few spiderwebs in the corners.

  I don’t like going down here. I like it even less right now.

  “Rougey? Why do we have to play this game in the basement? It’s all dark and spooky down here.”

  Rougey smirks. “Because the kind of game we’re going to play is a secret one. It’s so much fun that we don’t want to have to share it with anyone else.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “What’s the name of the game?” I look around. “I don’t see any board game boxes down here. Mommy and Daddy keep them upstairs in the playroom.”

  “Silly Bianca,” Rougey replies. “It’s not that kind of game. It’s a game like tag, one that doesn’t need a board.”

  “Are we going to play tag?”

  “I said it’s like tag, not that it is tag, dumb-dumb.” Rouge walks around to the other side of Daddy’s treadmill. “It’s called Doctor.”

  “Doctor?”

  “Yes. We’re going to pretend that I’m the doctor, and I’m giving you a checkup.”

  My eyebrow twitches again, this time twice as hard as before. What the heck is going on with it?

  “What do you mean you’re going to give me a checkup?”

  “Like, I’ll pretend to be the doctor, and you’ll pretend to be the patient. We’ll do the thing where I bonk your knee with a mallet, I’ll check your eyes. And, you know, other doctor stuff.”

  I cross my arms. “That doesn’t sound very fun to me. I don’t like going to the doctor very much.”

  “Well, this version is a little more fun,” Rougey says. “Why don’t you lie down on the treadmill?”

  My eyebrow is going crazy now, but I ignore it. I sit down on the treadmill, let my little legs dangle off the end.

  “Good. First we can test your reflexes.” Rouge takes a small hammer out. She must have gotten it out of Daddy’s toolbox in the garage. She taps it against my knee.

  Nothing happens.

  She taps it again. Again, nothing.

  She then smashes the hammer against my knee, much harder. It hurts like heck and I cry out in pain.

  Rougey immediately covers my mouth with her hand. “Don’t cry, Bianca. You can’t cry at the doctor’s office.”

  I don’t like this game anymore. I try to stand up to leave the basement, but Rougey’s grip on me is too strong for me to get up.

  “Sit, Bianca. The checkup isn’t done.”

  Fighting back tears, I sit back down on the treadmill. There’s a big bump forming on my knee where Rouge hit it with the hammer, but maybe if I play along she won’t hit me again.

  “Next, stick out your tongue and say ‘ahh,’” Rougey commands.

  I do so, and Rouge pulls out an old popsicle stick and sticks it down my throat. I gag on it, almost throw up, but I don’t want her to hit me again, so I keep my tongue stuck out as long as I can.

  Finally, Rougey removes the popsicle stick. “Your adenoids don’t look too great. We might have to remove them.”

  I don’t know what she means by that, but I just nod slowly.

  “Next, you’ll have to take your clothes off.”

  Warmth rushes to my cheeks. “What?”

  “You’ve been to the doctor, Bianca. You have to take your clothes off so the doctor can make sure all your parts are working correctly.”

  “But… But…”

  Rougey grabs the hammer, stares at me. “Would you rather we test your reflexes again?”

  My lip trembles, but I do my best to steady it. “No.”

  “Then take your fucking clothes off, Bianca.”

  She swore.

  Mommy doesn’t like to swear. Daddy does it all the time. But Rougey is too young. If Mommy caught her saying the F word—that’s the worst one—she’d wash her mouth out with soap.

  I slowly wiggle out of the T-shirt and shorts I’m wearing.

  “Underwear, too.”

  “Rougey…”

  “Did I stutter, Bianca? The doctor needs to check out your whole body.”

  A single tear slips out of my left eye as I slip the undies off.

  “Good. Now lie back on the examination table…”

  I don’t ever let myself think about it.

  I can’t.

  We were young. Kids have a natural curiosity about sexuality.

  But it’s one thing for two kids around the same age to play a game of “show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

  Rouge was thirteen. I was seven.

  She knew what she was doing. She poked and prodded my naked body that day, even explored inside me briefly. And it wasn’t the last time it happened. Every so often she’d drag me down under duress for a game of Doctor.

  Eventually she started putting items inside me. Medicine bottles, a roll of quarters, anything that would fit. I learned to bite my tongue to keep from crying out. I knew if we were caught that the games would get even worse.

  It did eventually come to an end, around the time I got my period. After that, Rouge seemed to have lost interest in me.

  But it was a rough couple of years.

  I never told my parents. Rouge would have had my head.

  And now I know she would have had it literally.

  I know now that my sister is capable of the most depraved, evil acts imaginable. The stuff she did to me as a kid was awful—truly, it was sexual abuse—but it pales in comparison to the destruction she’s left in her wake since she grew up.

  And now she’s abducted two elderly folks—a man and a woman—whom I don’t recognize.

  But it’s clear from Harrison’s wide eyes that he does.

  “You heinous bitch!” he spits out.

  Rouge smirks. “Language, Doctor. You really ought to be acting more professional around two of your patients.”

  I gasp. These are two of Harrison’s patients?

  “They’ve done nothing wrong!” Harrison replies.

  “Have they not, Doctor?” Rouge pulls out a diamond-studded knife, slides it over the old man’s throat. “Within the breast of Lou Chambers beats the heart of the Seven of Spades.” She flicks her gaze toward the woman. “And Carol Lutwidge breathes solely thanks to her lungs.”

  It hits me. Carol and Lou. The elderly couple Alissa and Harrison were talking about back at the hospital. Rouge has now confirmed their worst fears—that they live today because of the death of an innocent young woman.

  “They didn’t know that!” Harrison’s jaw trembles, but he steadies it. “It’s not their fault. It’s you who are guilty, Rouge. You’ve killed countless innocents, all in the name of profit.”

  Rouge narrows her eyes. “In the name of keeping people on the brink of death with us. People you love, Doctor. People that Ms. Maravilla, your beloved nurse, loves.”

  “But Alissa also cared about May!” I cry out. “She didn’t want her to die, either!”

  Rouge shoots me a glare. “Stay out of this, Bianca. You’re in way over your head.”

  “No!” I stamp my foot against the ground, making the lighting fixture about Rouge’s bed shake. “I’m sick of being treated like the little sister, Rouge. I’m a fully grown woman with plenty of life experience.” I take a step forward. “Maybe you were Dad’s favorite, maybe you were the one he saw controlling the clubs, but he never envisioned you doing this. Hurting people! People with nothing to lose, who put their trust in you.”

  A smarmy grin crawls across Rouge’s face. “Oh, Bianca. Sweet little naïve Bianca. I’ve only been the official head of Aces for five years now. Sure, I was basically in charge for a decade before that, but do you think all of this”—she brandishes her knife over Lou’s heart—“was my idea?”

  I drop my jaw. “Dad was doing this too?”

  “Dad, and our grandfather as well.” She chuckles. “Aces has been the front for our black-market dealings ever since Prohibition.” She shrugs. “I just added a new coat of paint and brought in a higher-end clientele. Increased our business dealings exponentially.”

  It can’t be. My father, the sweet man who bounced me on his knee, whose shoulder I would cry into when life got too hard. He always preferred Rouge, but he still gave me lots of affection when I was really young, before Rouge started playing Doctor with me. He was doing the same thing my sister was doing, my whole life? All the nice dresses I wore, all the fancy dinners I attended, all the privileges I had due to the Montroses’ wealth and status…

  The very job I have now that pays for my lavish apartment in the Loop…

  My entire life…

  It was built on the deaths of innocent people. Innocent people dragged from the most poverty-stricken corners of the globe with the promise of a better life, all to be mercilessly slaughtered like livestock and dismembered like an old car being stripped for parts.

  I think I’m going to be sick.

  Rouge clocks this and leans back, the smug smile still on her face. “Like I said, dear. You’re in way over your head. There’s so much you don’t understand about the way this world works. Which reminds me.” She glances toward Chet, who’s been standing behind us silently. “Thank you, Chet, for letting me know your little posse was on its way here. It gave me plenty of time to set the stage, put all our little cast into their positions.”

  Harrison, Vanya, and I gasp in unison as we look behind us.

  Vanya points a finger at Chet. “You betrayed us?”

  Chet’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t say a word.

  Rouge takes a step toward us. “I don’t know how many times you have to learn this lesson, but Chet remains loyal to me and me alone. Miss Maravilla and Mr. Hathaway made the mistake of placing their confidence in him, and you saw what happened to them.” She pulls a smartphone from her bosom, taps on the screen a few times, and displays a screen.

  My heart sinks. It’s a video feed of the ICU rooms where Alissa and Maddox are recovering.

  “You knew?” I ask, my lip trembling.

  Rouge cackles. “Baby sister, nothing goes on in this city that I’m not aware of. Within an hour of your little rescue from the Caterpillar, I knew what had happened.” She tents her fingers, stares us all down. “Always let your enemies think they’re in control. The more vividly the mirage of power gleams, the tighter your grasp upon their fate.”

  A chill runs down my spine at Rouge’s words. She’s right. She’s been playing us for fools this whole time.

  “At least let Carol and Lou go,” Harrison pleads. “You win, Rouge. We’ll play along. But they have nothing to do with this.”

  The meekness of Harrison’s voice terrifies me. I’ve never heard him speak like this before.

  Rouge has broken him.

  It’s all over.

  “Why do you care about these people?” Rouge asks, waving her knife over their bound bodies. “They live only because of the sacrifice of the Seven of Spades. Her death gave them life. You care about her, so you should hate them for what they’ve stolen.”

  “They didn’t know what they were doing,” I respond. “All they knew is that organs matching their profile became available.”

  “At the last minute,” Rouge continues. “Inexplicably. The two of them signed a form saying they would refuse treatment if matches were not found within a month. And then, like manna from heaven, a match arrives.” She twists her lips. “I’m not a wicked witch, like you think. I’m a miracle worker. A diviner of life.”