Page 120 of The Devil's Thorn
I watch my own reflection in the elevator’s mirrored panel. Red lipstick. Sharp collarbones. Daggered heels. And that look in my eyes—the one that always comes right before I do something reckless.
Good.
Let him see this version of me. The one that doesn’t flinch.
The one who doesn’t kneel.
When the doors slide open into the garage, the temperature shifts. Cooler. Harsher. The kind of stillness right before thunder breaks the sky.
We move together—silent, practiced. Ash heads for the car, the matte black one we always take when we don’t want to be seen. Kellan opens the back door for me like it’s instinct.
I slide in, cross one leg over the other, and rest my elbow on the door, fingers brushing the edge of my lips.
They both get in—Ash behind the wheel, Kellan riding shotgun. No music. No distractions. Just the sound of tires rolling over concrete as we pull out. I look out the window, watching the city blur.
“She’ll be there,” Kellan says after a while.
I glance over. “Who?”
“Your ego. Sitting at Rafael’s table, sipping your drink.”
Ash chuckles low. “Hope there’s room for the rest of us.”
I smirk. “Don’t worry. She’s generous. She shares her victories.”
Ash’s eyes catch mine in the rearview mirror. “What about her enemies?”
My smile fades into something colder. “She doesn’t.”
The car turns, neon signs beginning to flicker across the windshield. The sky is dark now, city lights reflected in the glass like broken stars.
“Viktor’s in a private suite, but he’s been walking the floor,” Kellan says, scrolling through something on his phone. “Our guy inside says he’ll come down again by nine. You’ll spot him.”
“Romanov?” I ask.
“Already there. Corner table, same spot he always takes when he’s surveying.” Kellan glances back at me. “He’ll see you.”
“Good.”
Let him. Let him watch me slip into the arms of a man who wants to kill him andlook like I’m doing it for fun.
Ash clears his throat. “This is dangerous, even for you.”
“Exactly why I’m the one doing it.”
They don’t argue. They never do when I say it like that. Because we all know I’ve already made up my mind.
I lean my head back and exhale slowly as the lights of Rafael’s casino come into view, bold and gleaming like a crown of fire.
I tilt my chin up, watching the glass doors grow closer. “Let the games begin,” I whisper.
The moment my heel touches the marble, the entire casino seems to shift. Not outwardly. Not visibly. But in that slow, invisible way that tension ripples through a room when something just walked in that doesn’t belong—yet owns every inch of the ground it claims.
I step in alone.
Kellan and Ash had peeled off silently at the entrance, slipping into their positions without a word. No nods. No parting looks. Just instinct and trust.
The doors close behind me. And I walk into fire.
