He just plays.
That’s all.
We’re going to be gone soon.
Then, smiling again, he lifts his glass. The orchestra swells. People start dancing.
Lucien keeps entertaining his guests and checks on Kiara every other time. She smiles in the right places, pretends she’s no one. They think she’s just some expensive secret I brought along for entertainment. I hate that it works.
Every time she brushes her hair back or touches her neck, half the room looks at her like they already own her. And Lucien loves it. The power, the illusion of control. That’s how he feeds. He doesn’t need to hurt to own. He just needs people to watch him not have to.
He catches my gaze across the room and lifts his glass, a silent toast, his eyes burning through the black basic mask we’re all wearing. I give him nothing back.
The night stretches. The music slows. Somewhere between the smoke and the violins, he leans down to whisper something in her ear. She gives him a nervous smile and he grins like a man who just decided something.
I know that look.
It’s the one that ends lives. He gestures to one of his men—Viktor, the kind who doesn’t ask questions, just makes bodiesdisappear. I gulp and slowly move my hand toward the gun beside my belt, ready to shoot them all right here.
But nothing happens. Kiara is still there, Michael beside her.
What the hell was that?
I’m so fucking nervous.
We shouldn’t have come here. We should’ve run away. The risk would probably be bearable, unlike what’s happening right now.
She’s so close to me yet I can’t hold her.
I swipe my gaze through the ballroom to the other side, to the bar where Adrien has been the whole time. But I can’t find him now. Where the hell is he? I drift my gaze across the room. I don’t see him. He’s tall, I would’ve already seen him.
Fuck. Where are you?
Sweat starts to break on my neck. I scan all the exits again, the wheels in my head turning.
I check Kiara. Still there, Michael beside her.
Calm the fuck down.
“You know,” Lucien starts, right next to me, my heart fucking jumps from the shock of him suddenly being here again.
I can’t wait for the day I’ll finally kill this disgusting Ken.
“Six years ago, I found it very useful that you took care of the Varners.” His voice slides out soft and velvety.
I don’t answer. He loves reactions. I won’t give him one.
Lucien slowly swirls his whiskey, posture relaxed, eyes restless. He’s pretending to enjoy the music, the lights, the fake charity smiles, but he’s scanning everything. Every reflection in every glass. Every breath I take.
“I knew you’d be much easier to work with.”
Still nothing from me.
He waits.
He hates waiting.
“Infamous Myortvets,” he says eventually, clicking his tongue, amused. “Your reputation speaks louder than you ever do. I’m almost jealous.” I stare straight at him, jaw tight. “Tell me, does it ever bother you?”
