Mishka sat, crossing her legs and looking at the other woman. “Yours?”
I almost chuckled at her wide eyes, as if she wasn’t expecting us to talk to her. After a heavy silence, she whispered softly. “I-I’m… Nilah.”
I sipped on wine, gathering my courage, and sat opposite them. “Who were they?” I asked, though I was barely interested. I just needed to have some idea of what I was getting myself into.
“They call this a Syndicate of some kind. But it’s more like a ring of devils who got bored of ruling their own kingdoms, now they want to burn others.”
I stared at her, heart racing.
“And what’s Lazarus?” I asked before I could stop myself. “What are they talking about in there?”
She tilted her head, studying me like I’d grown a second head. “A weapon. And a person. Depends. Built by Alexei Volkov, who thinks god is overrated,” she glanced at the door, “and they want to decide who gets to wield it.”
Nilah whispered, almost to herself. “And Osman Khalid has it.”
“Who’s he?”
Mishka sighed. “Another one of them. Though with regal blood and a real fucking crown.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, a strange ache blooming in my chest. I didn’t know if I belonged here or how I ended up here. Or if I’d ever belong anywhere again. I still hadn’t pieced it together. Mishka and Nilah seemed to know more than I did.
I let my eyes waver at Mishka as she slowly stood and walked to the window. The draping fabric flowed as she arched her back, the hem of her red garment brushed the marble floor as she raised her hand, and without hesitating, she tore a slit clean through the length of the fabric, leaving both me and Nilah wide-eyed and gasping.
I froze.
She didn’t stop, and shook off her heels, and she looked out the window. Her eyes scanned the height, the angle, and hummed to herself. “Not too high.”
“What are you doing?” I whispered, only for her lips to curve into a smile, but in the most deadliest way.
“Measuring the leap.”
“Leap?” Nilah repeated coming to stand beside me. She was as baffled as me as we both stared at the fearless woman in both awe and anticipation.
Mishka turned, her gaze dragging over me, then to Nilah, then back to the window. “I would love to take you two with me,” she said. “But I can’t risk being on their radar again. And I’m afraid… they’d only hunt you harder.”
“Mishka…” She pressed her finger to her lips, hushing me.
“Sweet dreams, ladies.”
Just before she climbed out fully, she reached into her strapless blouse and pulled out a lighter, and pulled out a folded handkerchief from the inner lining. I didn’t have to look at the engraving on it to know who it belonged to. Abel’s. She held itwith two fingers over the flame until it curled, blackened, and caught fire.
“Tell Abel, I left him a kiss.”
Then she dropped it in the small porcelain bowl of oils by the hearth. The fire caught fast, and the entire bowl ignited, and before I knew, she blew a kiss and jumped out the window.
I gasped, ran to the window, and grabbed the rail, panting over it as I looked down, but there was nothing. She was gone. Just like the flame, just like that.
The flames hadn’t even finished licking the rim of the bowl before I felt it. A warm throb behind my eyes. And I realised something far worse as I looked at the wine glass I left on the cabinet.
The wine.
I blinked hard, turning my head slowly over my shoulder to find Nilah slumped on the velvet divan. Her curly auburn hair fell over her eyes, and her glass was tilted.
Panic hit me in slow motion. “Fuck…”
It all made sense now. She barely drank the wine. God, why hadn’t I been smart enough?
If only I could use my brain that much.
