Kasien
Present
We took the bikes to get to the ball on time. I wanted to check the place and scan for all possible exits, rooms, and cameras. Kiara is arriving later with Michael and the other guys, that way it’s more natural.
The ballroom smells of money, perfume and expensive alcohol. That’s Lucien’s signature. Opulence as camouflage. He believes beauty distracts people from the rot underneath.
He’s right. It works on most. Not on me.
Thank God the old Devereaux is not here today.
Adrien is by the bar on the other side of the room, maintaining small talk with people, usually Vermilion people.
He hates all of them, so he’s probably imagining some cruel death to the person he now talks to.
Every time we need to kill one of them, because of some shit they did or just because they pissed Lucien off, Adrien can unleash himself and have some fun.
There’s something satisfying about watching him.
He likes to get dirty with them. But it’s heartbreaking at the same time, watching him lose himself.
I let my gaze wander around the room and go through the same drill as ever. Every person first looks at my signature hands, then nods at me and leaves. Nobody ever shakes my hand, everyone knows I hate touch.
Or they’re scared of me, as they should. I also never talk more than I need to, so nobody is annoying me with conversation.
The ball is happening in an insufferably unstylish mansion far away from the city. Three floors, too many rooms, one underground parking with our bikes and cars.
I sip my whisky, scanning all the people acting like they care about charity when in fact, this is just a big meeting of the most rotten people in this city, most of them doing business through Vermilion. Ugly fat men hold their wives, eye fucking the escorts by the bar at the same time.
There are lots of younger men, like me, but they are usually just Lucien’s foot soldiers. Some men are alone, already buying drinks for the ladies by the bar.
All those people are fucking disgusting.
I count the exits in my head again as I finally see him. He’s standing almost in the middle of the ballroom, shaking hands with other men, his disgustingly calm smile on his face like always, light blond hair stuck to his scalp backwards.
My insides tremble. I’m not usually nervous, but this time I have a lot to lose.
I have everything to lose.
She will appear any time now and I don’t like her being exposed here in the middle of those monsters. I’m used to pulling every string in this city, even Lucien’s, though he likes to pretend otherwise.
But the moment she stepped into this mess, something cracked. I’m not in control anymore. Not where it matters.
I spot her before anyone else does.
My little fox.
In a red silk dress that looks like it was poured on her, long V-neck showing her chest, slit on her left leg exposing a bit of her toned thighs, long legs settled in strappy heels, exposing her feet.
I was devouring those feet in bed not long ago, but still—Jesus. My mouth waters. I can almost feel her in my mouth.
Her hair falls in soft waves down her shoulders, and eyes that don’t belong in this world. They’re too alive, too curious. She’s trying to act calm, but I see it—the tremor in her fingers, the way her chest tightens every time someone brushes too close. Michael is guiding her through the ballroom.
I want to hold her, keep her next to me, but I can’t. That would be fucking obvious. Lucien knows I never take companions.
Lucien notices her too. Of course he does. Predators always smell purity before blood. He walks toward me, stands next to me without any words and just leans in my direction without breaking eye contact with her.
“That’s the journalist, isn’t it?”
I just nod.
“You didn’t tell me she was so delicate.” His voice is like smoke. Soft, toxic, and expensive.
I don’t answer. My jaw tightens.
“You’ve done well bringing her here, Kasien,” he continues, smiling as if we’re just two friends chatting over a drink. “You really think she’s worth keeping alive?”
The way he says alive makes my stomach twist.
“For now, yes. She’s useful.” I say firmly, without emotion in my voice. Lucien smiles wider, resting his glass against his lips.
“Useful can mean many things.”
He walks toward her.
The room feels smaller. My pulse slows—predator focus. I watch every step he takes, how his eyes drag up her body like knives. She notices him too, forces a polite smile, bows her head.
She doesn’t know who he is yet. She will. Lucien reaches for her hand, lifts it to his lips. She doesn’t flinch, but her eyes flicker toward me, just for a heartbeat.
I know, baby.
I step forward before I even realize it.
Lucien’s gaze slices toward me, amused.
Fuck.
“Careful, Kasien. You’re getting attached,” he says, shooting me a glance.
He lets go of her hand and drags his thumb along her wrist—a small, claiming gesture that makes my vision blur with red.
“You forget who owns the pieces on this board,” he murmurs, voice for my ears only.
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 bodies disappear. 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?”
“What.”
Lucien smiles, as he continues. “That everyone’s terrified to touch you.” He pauses. “Everyone except me.”
My instinct shifts, not fear—focus.
“You really think you’re special?” He chuckles, low, pleased with himself. My jaw tightens, and he sees it. Of course he sees it. “Thinking you’re smarter than me.” His voice drops, intimate and lethal. “That usually doesn’t go unpunished.”
A quiet smile. Deadly.
He leans in, so close I can smell the expensive cologne over the rot beneath it. “I always know when my dogs start digging tunnels.”
My spine goes rigid.
Lucien’s smile widens—he lives for this. “And you, Kasien, you’ve been digging.”
I reach instinctively toward my belt. Lucien notices, and raises his glass like a toast.
“Relax.” A soft laugh. “If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have made it past the door tonight.”
My pulse slows. Not calming, but calculating. Suddenly my phone vibrates in my pocket.
“Check your phone, Kas.” It feels like it’s burning through the fabric. Lucien’s voice is gentle in a way that makes my stomach twist. “You really thought you could play me?” A slow shake of his head.
My hand slides into my pocket. I unlock the phone. And everything in my chest turns to stone.
A photo. Me and Kiara. In my old car. Six years ago. Her smile soft, mine unguarded. A moment no one was ever supposed to know existed.
Lucien watches the blood drain from my face with pure delight.
“You thought I don’t know every fucking detail about you?” His whisper curls around my throat like piano wire. “Kas.” He clicks his tongue.
Panic takes over me as I look for Kiara. The moment the photo registers, my body stops belonging to me. Everything inside me collapses into raw instinct.
She’s gone.
No. This is not happening.
He fucking knew, this whole time. He was just fucking with me.
I scan the whole room. She’s not here.
“Where is she,” I grit out, getting in Lucien’s face, ready to tear his mouth open with my hands.
“She may be still alive but I can’t promise you anything, Viktor just got out of prison, so—”