Chapter 23 Nyx
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
nyx
We had to stop at a store on the way to get some civilian clothing for me.
The guys only managed to grab our emergency bags when we left base, so Noc's dressed in a black t-shirt that has a very discrete bullet proof vest under it, a bomber jacket on top along with dark skinny jeans and trainers. It’s unfair how he makes regular clothes look like they should be modelled on a runway.
Meanwhile, I've just got grey sweatpants and a matching hoodie and similar trainers to his. I look like a tramp.
My hair is scraped back in a messy ponytail.
I'm trying to make myself look as unappealing as possible with the knowledge that Volokov and Graves had plans to traffic me to whatever sick weirdos are out there in the world. I know I shouldn’t cower away, but the news is still so raw that I need time to build the fortress inside against it.
I know it's not my appearance that's granted me the high price tag, but this material is providing an invisible set of armor for my mind for who I’m protecting myself against.
I have my earpiece in but also the bracelet Adam had made for me the night Noc got detained.
I can press the alarm if we need back up, and the earpiece is fully switched on to allow the team to listen in on the conversation.
I've pulled my bangs out and loosened the sides of my hair, so the earpiece isn’t as noticeable.
Being in close proximity with Volokov, I don’t want to raise suspicions.
Adam drops us a couple blocks away, driving off to park in the side street that Blitz and I stashed the car in the last time we were here.
Heading towards the club, Noc takes my hand to guide past the front entrance and up to the metal gates where the smoker’s area is, the gate already open for him as a man sitting behind it rises to give him a friendly greeting.
“Looks like you made plenty of chums during your time here.” I mumble as we make our way up the fire exit stairs, the same ones I catapulted down whilst launching a smoke bomb after my attempt to kill him.
He tightens the grip on my hand in warning “A necessary evil, Brodie.” Those words from our first encounter here come rushing back.
I didn't even pick up on the double meaning back then.
Noc rattles the door with a distinct pattern, a coded signal to whoever’s inside.
It clicks open, and the man standing on the other side makes my stomach drop.
It looks like the guy Blitz chatted to in the street with the VIP.
I instinctively shift behind Noc, using him as a shield.
Thankfully, he doesn’t take much notice of me.
We move through the hallway, and my eyes catch on something.
A bullet hole in the wall, the one made when I shot at Natalia.
A victorious smirk lifts my lips as we approach, and Noc pauses, eyes flicking to the same spot.
He takes in my expression, reading it instantaneously.
He tugs me closer, leaning down until his breath skims my ear.
“Behave.” His hand slides effortlessly down my waistband, fingers squeeze into my bare ass - a silent warning to obey.
The seating area is empty, and Noc gives a sharp, quick slap on my butt as he gestures for me to sit.
He’s trying to distract me, just in case I teeter close to the edge again.
I take a seat as he remains standing, pulling a cigarette from the pack, lighting it up.
Smoke curls lazily around him, and I swear - this is not the time to be getting turned on.
I need to focus. But he destroys every ounce of discipline I’ve ever had, unravelling years of training with nothing more than the effortless way he moves.
Maybe it’s just the time apart, or maybe I’ve simply forgotten his mannerisms and I’m appreciating them all over again.
That would make sense. But my inner demon?
She rolls her eyes at me, calling bullshit.
Footsteps pound from the hallway, following a door slamming shut and shaking the windows.
My pulse climbs with each step that nears.
This is it - I’m about to be face to face with the man we’ve hunted for six months.
One I’ve wanted dead for longer. “Nocturne.” The deep, gravelly voice cuts in from the side of me, yanking my attention toward him.
He’s changed - filled out a bit since the last time I saw him in person, since his ridged blade bit into my wrist. He’s shorter than Noc, and way softer in build.
His hair is trimmed close, receding slightly at the edges, wisps of grey streak through with signs of age.
Dressed in a black business suit that does nothing for his pale skin, he looks nothing like a man on the US Most Wanted list. More like some sleazy guy lingering at the bar on a Friday night.
Volokov and Noc clasp hands, and exchange a brief, familiar man hug.
My fists tighten. I shove them between my legs, forcing the anger down with them.
He’s playing a role, Nyx. I repeat the reminder in my head, over and over, but it doesn’t ease the twisting unease clawing inside me.
The way he slips into the mask so effortlessly, it’s unsettling.
Noc takes a seat on the arm rest next to me, acting as a bollard between myself and Volokov.
He sits directly across from us, feet decked on the table - all nonchalant.
He too pulls a cigarette from his pocket and lights it up.
The place is much quieter compared to the subtle base that vibrates when the club comes alive at night, and I can hear the fizzle of heat burning the end of his cancer stick.
Volokov finally takes notice of me, puffing smoke in my direction.
Prick. “Brodie Voss, nice to see you again after all these years. How is the arm holding up?” His thick Russian accent irks my whole being, nothing compared to when Noc speaks the same tongue.
It's gritty, and feels like sandpaper grating over my nerve endings. He’s trying to get a rise out of me already.
I plaster a fake smile on, but I know my eyes are empty as they pierce through him, the familiar hollow that lingers beneath the surface.
His brows dip, catching my edge. “Volokov. The arm's completely fine, and I’ve had a bigger scratch from a cat.” I add a wink.
That earns me an obnoxious laugh from him.
He sits up straighter, feet sliding from the table as he points his cigarette at Noc “She's a feisty one.” Noc shifts his gaze to me, giving me my second warning of the day to rein it in, “You've no idea.”
He turns his attention back to Volokov. “I need Graves, That piece of shit tried to kill me. I know he won't meet me personally, so I need to know when you two are next planning to meet so I can return the favor.”
Volokov nods his head, stuffing the discarded cigarette in the dark, overflowing ash tray, clasping his hands together.
“I heard. He's needs to remember his fucking place, I own him. But I have no more use for the dog. And I like to put them down once they're of no use to me.” I’m at war with myself, trying to refrain from rolling my eyes in a full circle or throwing a fist at him.
I fold my arms over my chest, tucking my hands under my armpits, crossing a leg over the other to let it bounce out some tension.
“When are you meeting?'' Noc asks him, Volokov’s eyes glide over to me, his gaze rolling up and down and it makes the hairs prickle on my neck. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to fuck off.
“Now, now Noc. You know me better than that.
You've an Ashfall officer sitting beside you, how can I trust that this isn't a set up?
'' How the hell does he know our unit's name? It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask what the hell Graves has told him, but Noc gets in first, “You have my word, when have I ever gone back on it? ''
Volokov dips his head and nods. ''Yes, you have stuck to your word all these years, my boy. But it’s not enough.”
He leans forward and Noc edges slightly closer to me, as if he's anticipating him pouncing at me. Volokov is quiet for a beat, going over his options, and finally deciding on one. “Tell you what. You meet me before we head to our meeting spot. She comes with us. As leverage of course.”
My heart lurches from my chest. “Absolutely not.” Noc shoots to his feet.
Oh shit, this is going to go south. If I don’t speak up, we're either never going to get out of this building or we’ll lose our only shot at Graves.
Steading myself, I speak over Noc before he opens his mouth again and messes this up.
“Fine.” Noc’s wide eyes shoot to me, his teeth clenched so hard I’m surprised he hasn’t broken any.
Volokov rises to his feet and clasps his hands together.
“Excellent.” Smiling like the cat that’s got the cream.
What have I done? “I'll get the address. I’m planning to meet with him in four days. I’ll contact you on the day where to meet us.
Brodie will travel the rest of the way with us.
You and whoever else you have running around with you can get in and exterminate the rat.
” He stuffs his hands in his pockets, idly walking towards the windows looming over his club.
“But Noc? If any one of those operators come for me or take one step out of line... then she's dead, worse than dead. Remember what I told you.” He turns back to stare at him, his face void of an expression, it’s cold and unsettling.
“I’ll drop her somewhere for you to collect. ”