I’m sorry I failed you.
Movement at the edge of my vision. Someone pushing through the crowd, shoving past soldiers who try to block her path.
No.
No.
Adora.
Panic floods my veins, colder than any fear I have for myself. She’s going to reveal who she is and die trying to save me.
She breaks through the circle and strides toward me like she owns the place. Gone is the nervous girl who flinched at violence. This woman moves with confidence, hips swaying, chin up, every inch the sassy streetwise date I brought to the fight. Her eyes blaze with determination.
“Tell them, baby.”
Her voice carries across the warehouse, and the crowd falls silent.
I stare at her, unable to process what’s happening. She’s going to get herself killed.
“Who the fuck are you?” A soldier steps forward, gun still trained on me but eyes sliding to Adora.
She spares him the smallest, most withering glance I’ve ever seen. Like he’s an insect beneath her notice.
Then she looks back at me. “Tell them you’re sick of working for the Vicis and you want to switch to the winning side.”
Understanding hits me like lightning.
She’s giving me a cover story. The disgruntled Vici soldier, a defector who wants to join the other side.
“Fuck the Vicis.” I turn slowly, meeting the eyes of the men surrounding me. “They’re finished. My don is hiding in hismansion, and the rest of us are bleeding out for a family that doesn’t give a shit about us.”
Murmurs ripple through the crowd. I can sense them wanting to believe every word I’m saying.
“So why the fuck are you here?” another soldier demands.
“I wanted to prove myself to you all tonight.” I spread my arms, showcasing the tattoo. “This ink? It’s a death sentence. But the Dervishis?” I gesture toward the VIP section, toward Aleksander and Dashamir. “You’re taking over this city. You’re the future, and I want to fight with you.”
The crowd roars their approval.
Not all of the soldiers look impressed. Some still look suspicious, guns raised, but Adora and I have done enough to create doubt. Enough to keep me breathing.
Adora slides her hand into mine, gazing up at me with adoration, playing her part perfectly. The loyal girlfriend who convinced her man to switch sides.
I think she just saved my life.
Doe is my guardian angel.
A Dervishi soldier approaches, older than the others, with a scorpion tattooed on his throat. He studies me for a long moment. Adora’s hand tenses in mine.
“Thekryewants to meet you,” he says finally. “Here.”
The man passes me a T-shirt, and I slip it over my head.
The VIP section is elevated slightly, giving Aleksander and Dashamir a clear view of the fights and reminding everyone below who’s in charge. Aleksander doesn’t stand as we approach. He lounges in his chair like a bored emperor, a woman in a tight dress with glossy lips perched on the armrest beside him. He doesn’t even look at us until we’re standing directly in front of him.
Then his eyes flick up, cold and assessing.
“A Vici.” He says it like he’s naming a particularly unimpressive species of vermin. “Here to beg for a place at the table now that your don’s family has been slaughtered? They were weak.”
