45. Luna
Luna
Five hours.
That’s how long it’s been since they moved us.
Since they yanked us from the cold concrete floor and tied us to these damn chairs like some cheap hostage situation.
Amani’s pale as hell, probably from blood loss. She’s been quiet, but she’s still breathing, still aware, which is the only thing keeping me from losing my goddamn mind.
Raven finally woke up a while ago, groaning like she had the worst hangover of her life. The swelling on her temple is terrible, but she’s coherent—pissed as hell, but coherent.
Me?
My body is screaming.
My wrists burn where the ropes dig into my skin, my shoulders ache from the awkward position they left us in, and my head is still pounding from the knockout blow I took.
The worst part?
No one’s come in.
No demands.
No threats.
Not even a creepy villain monologue.
Just silence.
And I don’t know if that makes things better or worse.
Raven shifts in her chair, exhaling sharply. “I gotta say,” she mutters, her voice raspy from disuse, “this is easily the worst afterparty ever. Zero out of ten. Would not recommend.”
Amani snorts weakly, cracking one eye open. “Yeah? You’ve been unconscious the whole time. I’ve been bleeding out waiting for room service.”
Raven sighs dramatically. “Tragic. If they don’t at least give us mimosas after this, I’m filing a complaint.”
Despite everything, I smirk. Leave it to these two to crack jokes while we’re tied to fucking chairs in some unknown location, waiting to see if we’re going to live or die.
It’s that exact kind of dark humor that has kept us sane all these years.
I try to stretch my fingers, testing the restraints. “Anyone got a way out of this?”
Raven gives me a pointed look. “Uh, yeah. If I weren’t tied to a fucking chair, I’d be out of here already.”
Amani huffs out a weak laugh. “Damn, I must really be out of it because I was about to tell Luna to reach for her knife.”
We all go quiet for a beat.
Then Raven snickers. “Oh my God, we’re a mess.”
I roll my eyes. “No shit.”
The second I figure out where the hell we are and who these assholes are working for, heads are going to roll.
Literally.
Raven lifts her head just enough to look at me. “So, boss lady, what’s the plan?”
I take a slow breath, ignoring the pain radiating through my ribs. “We wait.”
Amani frowns. “For what?”
I let out a slow, wicked smile. “For the signal.”
Silence.
Then Raven grimaces. “What signal? From the husband? Or EAO?”
I nod. “Yes.”
Amani groans. “Oh, we’re gonna need a fucking body count list after this, aren’t we?”
Raven mutters, “At least fifty. Minimum.”
I smirk.
That’s what I’m counting on.
If my crazy, paranoid ass has done one thing right in my life, it’s planting those damn trackers when no one was paying attention.
Angel must’ve gotten to Vladimir by now.
Which means he’s coming.
Raven lets her head drop back, groaning. “Tell me you implanted one on Vlad, too.”
Amani snickers weakly. “I mean… she is psycho enough to do it.”
I grin despite the situation. “Let’s just say… if he ever gets kidnapped, I’ll be the first to find him. I even get alerts when he leaves the house.”
Raven snorts. “That’s not normal, you know.”
I shrug, wincing at the pull of the ropes. “I never claimed to be.”
Amani shakes her head. “Your husband is going to kill people when he gets here.”
The only question now is how long we have until he gets here.
I shift against the chair, testing the bindings again. Tight but not unbreakable. I’ve had worse. So, I get to work. Luckily, these idiots didn’t tie my legs.
Then it would’ve been a problem.
Footsteps echo outside the room, the first sign of movement since they left us here.
“Remember,” I say quickly, my voice low. “If anyone comes in, let me do the talking.”
Raven quirks a brow. “Why? You planning on seducing your way out?”
Amani smirks despite her pale complexion. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
I narrow my eyes. “You said you wouldn’t bring up the New Orleans situation again! But, no. Let’s say… I have a way with words.”
The footsteps stop. The door creaks open.
Two figures step inside.
Well, fuck me.
“Of course, it’s the village idiots who kidnapped us,” I sneer, a sharp edge to my voice.
Raven murmurs dryly, “A way with words, huh?”
I shrug, well, as best as I can, tied to a chair. “ I couldn’t help myself.”
Eric Goldstein.
But Sarah Michaelson was not on my bingo card.
Eric’s voice drips with mockery. “Well, well, Luna. It’s nice to finally meet you officially—I’m a big fan of your work. The Phoenix carved out on each victim’s chest is a nice touch! What’s your body count at now?”
I meet his gaze, venom in my voice. “Why? Do you want me to add your name to my list?”
His smile chills. “How’s Angel? I haven’t seen her in ages! Did you know her calling card was almost carved on my chest before she retired? I don’t think a Black Widow would look good on me. No? ”
I don’t bite.
His smirk widens. “No comment? Fine. How about Aria? How is your niece? The last time I saw her, she was just a baby.”
The room drops ten degrees. My glare sharpens, promising blood.
Eric chuckles darkly. “Touched a nerve?”
But my voice is ice. “Repeat her name, and I’ll rip out your throat with my teeth.”
“Sanctimonious as ever. Still clinging to your moral high ground, Luna?” Sarah finally chimes in.
Once a council powerhouse for the EAO. Until her arrogance got her team slaughtered.
Now? A traitor, siding with a trafficker.
I turn to her, a look of disgust curling my lips. “Look at you—once an EAO sister, now running errands for a man who profits from human misery. What a fall from grace. Do you enjoy putting others in harm’s way, just as you were once saved from?”
Sarah’s eyes glint. “Survival, sweetheart. Something you’ll soon learn. The EAO left me for dead. Eric offered me a position I couldn’t refuse.”
I lean forward, cold fire burning behind my smile. “Is this the part where you tell us to beg for our lives? Just like you did after the EAO got rid of you.”
Her mask cracks. “You were the golden girl as soon as Isabella found you in that bathtub. She always protected you. You’d never be in my position if she had any say in it.”
There it is.
The root of her bitterness. The twisted envy.
I smirk. “Not my fault. You should’ve been a better assassin. Now hurry up with this torture session so we can go about our day.”
Amani and Raven stay silent.
I know what I’m doing.
I have to keep them focused on me.
Her face twists. “You think you’re untouchable. But to Eric? You’re nothing but a pawn. And to your precious husband? You’re a liability. Goddess of Death? Please. The EAO will eliminate you when they realize how much of a Maddog you are.”
A low, sharp laugh escapes me. “Ha! I rather be a maddog than a bitch on a short leash.”
The punch comes fast. My head jerks to the side. A metallic tang fills my mouth.
I spit blood and grin.
“That all you got?”
The second punch lands harder. Pain radiates through my cheekbone.
I laugh again.
“Still hit like a girl.”
Sarah snaps.
Fists rain down. Sloppy. Furious. Desperate.
But I keep laughing. Because every strike means they’re still focused on me. “No, please don't kill me, Mrs. Ghostface! I wanna be in the sequel!”
Her hand wraps around my throat. Her voice shakes with rage.“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”
My ribs ache. My vision swims. But I meet her gaze through the haze of red and pain and whisper, “You’re not walking out of here alive.”
And I mean it.
Before she can respond, another pair of footsteps echoes down the hall.
Heavy. Controlled.
Familiar?
A chill lashes up my spine. The sound alone has my blood turning to ice.
The door swings open.
And I see the devil wearing a man’s skin.
Dressed in all black, broader than I remember, but the smirk? That same smug, cruel twist of his mouth hasn’t changed. Not one fucking bit.
He looks at me like I’m something he’s already won.
“Hello, wife.”
Eugene. Henderson. My ex-husband.
Amani gasps, sharp and guttural.
Raven goes utterly still.
My stomach drops. My limbs freeze.
No. No. No.
Sarah leans against the wall, grinning like this is her twisted birthday gift. “Surprise.”
Eric claps slowly, mockery lacing his words. “You didn’t think we’d do this all ourselves? Sarah and I needed someone who knew your mind... and your body.”
Eugene saunters in like he owns the room.
And I hate how my body goes rigid on instinct. Old scars scream from beneath my skin, ghost-pain flashing through nerve endings trained to expect agony when he walks into a room.
But I don’t move. I don’t flinch.
Because I’m not her anymore.
His smirk widens as he sees the tension I’m hiding. “I’ve missed you, baby.”
His hand cracks across my face before I can blink.
Amani cries out. Raven thrashes.
I force myself to stay still.
Don’t react. Don’t break. Not for him.
He crouches beside me, grabbing my chin. “Still so fucking pretty when you’re bleeding.”
His touch makes bile rise in my throat, but I refuse to give him the reaction he craves.
"I heard you married some Russian dog," he murmurs. "Whored yourself out to the mafia.”
I meet his gaze, unflinching. “I figured you’d be dead by now after I killed everyone near you. Guess even hell didn’t want your sorry ass.”
He rips the front of my dress with one violent yank—Riiip—and the silk gives way like paper, baring my skin to the cold air and their disgusting stares.
Amani gasps. Raven makes a strangled sound.
I stare at him, daring him to go further.
Sarah snorts. “Not so tough now, are you?”
Eugene ignores her. His fingers trace the curve of my collarbone, slow, methodical. “I see you’ve decorated since I last saw you. The ink. The piercings.” He flicks one with a finger.
“I don’t know whether to be angry or impressed. You upgraded your look. Upgraded everything but your taste in men.”
I hold his gaze.
“Tell me, Luna,” he says, voice low, vile, “how does it feel? Knowing you gave my cunt to another man?”
I smile. Sweet. Cold. Poisonous. “At least he knows how to use it.”