The next day, Dante decided to show Anna the "New Rules" in person. He drove her himself—no chauffeur, no motorcade—to the North Slums, the area where Anna had spent her childhood.
The last time she had been here, the streets were a war zone. Gangs fought over street corners, and the smell of rot and old oil was overwhelming.
Now, the streets were strangely clean. The gangs were gone—or rather, they were wearing Vane-issued armbands and standing at the entrances of the alleyways like disciplined soldiers.
Dante stopped the car in front of a local market. A group of young men, former street-thugs who used to shake down the shopkeepers, were instead unloading a truck of fresh produce. They stopped when they saw the car. They didn't run. They stood at attention.
"They have a purpose now," Dante said, looking out the window. "I pay them triple what the Syndicate did. Their only job is to ensure that no one—no one—hurts the people in this neighborhood. If a woman is robbed, the man who did it is brought to me. If a child is approached by a dealer, that dealer disappears."
"You're building a police state," Anna said, but she couldn't deny the change. The shopkeeper, an old man who had once been beaten for not paying protection money, was standing in his doorway, looking relaxed.
"I'm building a home," Dante countered. He turned to her, his gaze intense. "You hated the slums because they were lawless. I have given them the Law. My law."
He stepped out of the car and walked around to her side, opening the door. He offered her his hand. As she took it, he leaned in, his breath hot against her ear.
"Every person on this street knows your face, Anna. They know you're the one who sits at my right hand. To them, you're a goddess. The girl who survived the dirt and came back to rule it with the King."
"I don't rule anything," she whispered, her heart racing as he led her toward the market.
"Don't you?" Dante asked, a dark glint in his eyes. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing the people around them to move like water around a stone. He reached out and traced the line of her throat, his thumb lingering on her pulse. "If you told me to burn this street tonight, I would do it. If you told me to spare a man's life, he would live. You have more power than the Mayor, Anna. You just haven't realized how much you enjoy holding it yet."
He watched her, his eyes Dilated, waiting for the flicker of yearning he knew was there. He was teasing her with the city itself, offering her a throne built on blood and order, and as Anna looked at the people bowing their heads as they passed, she felt a terrifying, seductive rush of belonging.
She hated him. But as he pulled her closer, his hand firm on her waist, she found herself leaning into his shadow, yearning for the next time he would remind her that she was his.