Page 66 of Spearcrest Queen

Not on my fucking watch. Isn’t that why I chose law?

I don’t want to witness the abuse of power anymore. I want tostopit.

When I reach them,Roth is leaning in, whispering something against Dahlia’s ear, ringed hand drifting upward, brushing her hair back from her cheek. Dahlia goes rigid.

“Come now,” Roth mutters. “Don’t be difficult, alright? Too late to play shy now.”

I intervene before she can even reply.

“Dahlia,” I say, slipping my arm around her waist and pulling her towards me. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Marcel barely reacts; Dahlia does. Her eyes flash up to me, her whole body tensing, expression caught between relief and fury.

She doesn’t pull away, eyes locked on mine.

I barely look at Roth, just a quick glance at him over Dahlia’s shoulder, dismissive, like I barely register his existence.

“You don’t mind if I steal her away, do you?”

I move to lead her away, but Roth doesn’t let go so easily.

“She came with me,” he says, catching Dahlia’s wrist. His voice is the smarmy baritone of men who want you to know that they smoke expensive cigars and frequent exclusive membership clubs. “Didn’t you, young lady? Go on, tell her.”

Dahlia’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Let go, Marcel.”

He doesn’t. Not right away. Instead, he takes his time, his thumb rubbing her wrist. He leans in slightly, voice dropping.

“You’ll do what you’re told,” he says, still smiling. “If you know what’s good for you.”

Everything about him is repulsive. His voice, his grey hair, his pallid eyes, the sagginess of his skin around the collar of his shirt, the ostentatious rings on his fingers. I speak before I can even consider the wisdom of it.

“Mr Roth, is that right? I’ve heard so much about you.”

His gaze flicks up to me and stays there this time, finally acknowledging me properly. He smiles the indulgent smile one might give a naughty child.

“I should hope so.”

“I didn’t mean it as a compliment.”

For the first time, something shifts in his eyes.

“You’ve been lucky so far,” I continue. “Allegations tend to disappear when you have the right friends. I imagine that must be of some comfort to someone like you.”

Dahlia goes completely rigid.

The change in the air is almost imperceptible. Roth’s posture stiffens just slightly, the laughter and conversation around us suddenly feel distant. He lowers his voice and speaks tightly, enunciating every word.

“Be careful, young lady. I’m sure you are very clever and learning all sorts of interesting things. But you’re a very small fish, and I am a very old shark.”

Logically, I know I should be afraid. Marcel Roth is the kind of person that could destroy someone’s career like squashing a bug. And maybe the old mewouldhave been afraid, the Sophie who once kept her head down, who played the game to surviverather than to win, a pawn too paralysed by fear to reach the other side of the board and claim the power of a queen.

But I’m not that girl anymore. The fear simply doesn’t come.

I meet Roth’s glare head-on, my arm still wrapped tightly around Dahlia’s waist.

“I’malwayscareful, Mr Roth. And I never swim alone, I know plenty of sharks of my own. The Harvard Law Review, for example. My friends at KMG. My mentor, Eleanor Knight.” I give him my sweetest, most venomous smile. “They might be interested in what this young shark has to say about the old fish who’s trying to bite her friend in half.”

Silence. I don’t drop Roth’s gaze for even a second, mouth still stretched in a smile.

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