Page 73 of Phoenix's Last Heist
He says it softly, which is worse. Weallknow that’s the tone Brill uses before he defenestrates someone.Shit, do those windows open?Kraxis gestures to Thall and Borric, who almost trip over themselves with the effort to hurry from the room.
The minute we’re alone, Brill sighs dramatically and starts to pace, coiled with that restless, predatory energy he can't seem to mask. For a moment—one stupid, traitorous instant—I remember what I thought of him the first time I saw him.
Years ago, at myserrikaauction on Velusia, Brill had looked like control made flesh. Among the bloated bidders and glassy-eyed diplomats, he stood out: tall and motionless, his skin a hard lattice of bony plates that caught the torchlight like dull metal. His horns spiraled high and elegant from his skull, curved in a way that suggested age and power without ever tipping into grotesque. The claws on his hands glinted like carved obsidian, and when he moved, it was with a slow, deliberate grace, like something used to sandstorms and silence. Those eyes—orange, slit-pupiled, unreadable—locked on me once during the bidding, and something inside me faltered. I remember thinking he looked handsome, in the way a knife might, gleaming in the dark just before it sinks in. There was no kindness in him, but there was precision, restraint, a sense that if he chose to hurt me, it wouldn’t be out of clumsy hunger—it would be a decision, and somehow that seemed safer. I didn’t know yet how dangerous cold mercy could be.
He circles to the front of the desk and leans back against it, folding his arms across his chest in a way that’s too controlled to be as casual as he wants to appear. Warning bells are sounding in my head, but my body feels sluggish and rubbery with thehaggracoursing through my veins. Even if I wanted to summon myvellia, the spark is buried under fog.Just a little longer.
"You’ve put me in a difficult position, Lyra,” he says, his voice a low rumble of rage. "You’ve embarrassed me. Repeatedly. Stolen from me. Lied to me. Betrayed my trust."
Almost too late, I realize I’m supposed to be nearly insensate withhaggra. I blink blearily at him, sure he’s going to prattle on about how horrible and ungrateful I am, and how generous he isby not torturing me to death every time I’ve failed to bring home one of his prizes.
“Anyone else would be a puddle of shredded organs on my floor, but I’ve always had a soft spot for you, little Lyra,” he whispers, stepping forward until he’s standing a hair’s breadth in front of me. With a vicious grip, he snags my chin, his claws pricking into my cheeks between the metal fingers of the gag. I feel blood well beneath the points of contact, but thehaggradulls the pain.
“And how have you repaid my indulgence?” he hisses.
A muffled giggle spills out of me at the thought of his abuse beingindulgence, but it also serves my purpose of behaving like a loopy idiot. Still, I know what’s coming—Brillhatesto be laughed at.
His other hand flies back, slapping me so hard my teeth click against the metal of the gag. Stars burst behind my eyes and blood fills my mouth.
"You should’ve been mine,” he bites out, licking my blood from his claws and shoving me backwards. I stumble slightly, but manage to keep my balance. “You would have been kept in comfort, in luxury, at my side. You are an instrument of pleasure, Lyra, but your resistance to that has forced me to use you ill. Now, look at you! An errand girl bringing back items from my shopping list—denying her true nature because of pride and petulant whims.”
And there it is—the heart of it all. For the past 14 years, it’s only ever been about me refusing to be his mistress—a sexually biddableserrika.It’s never been about trust, or business. Just Brill’s twisted obsession and his need to possess what he cannot control.
Maybe if I’d relented and fucked him over the years, he would’ve ended my contract at the right time, or at the very least, stopped treating me like a dog on a leash that needed tofetch every time he said so. Nausea bubbles in my stomach at the thought of submitting to him, and I know with grim certainty it wouldn’t have mattered. If I’d slept with him, he would’ve gotten bored, and boredom leads to dead bodies. My refusal kept him interested, and his interest is what kept me alive.
"But that’s all in our past, isn’t it,” he continues, circling me at a distance and running his fingers over the edges of the robe’s sleeves. “I’m afraid you’ve exhausted the limits of my mercy. I know you let that Xylothian run off withmyartifact. Such treachery—such betrayal! It’s a shame you’ve become such an active and enthusiastic participant in your own destruction. Your actions have voided our contract, and by rights, you are mine to dispose of at will.”
I go still, fear sparking uselessly at my sleepingvellia.
He stops behind me. “Of course, I’d no sooner slit your throat than destroy my favorite painting. But you won’t be my weakness anymore, my little Lyra. Buyers are lining up for a piece of you. You’ll be auctioned at the next eclipse. Highest bidder wins."
For a moment, I can’t breathe. The words hit like a pulse round to the chest—then calcify. That’s the plan? Sell me like an artifact—a trinket—a relic? How poetic. How perfectly predictable. The horror should hollow me out, but there’s nothing left to hollow now with everyone I love gone. It’s all just ashes and muscle memory.
Still, beneath the numbness, grief flickers—small, sharp, human. Not for my body, or even my freedom, but for what’s left of the girl who once thought she was clever enough to outwit the worst of ‘em.
Pathetic.Even I believed he’d have more imagination than that.
"But," he whispers into my ear, "I thought you deserved a proper farewell."
His hand trails down my spine. My stomach churns and I close my eyes, desperately trying to summon anything. Rage. Power.Vellia.
There’s nothing at first, but then…a tremor. It’s faint. Barely perceptible—but there. The singular dose ofhaggrais burning off beneath the heat of my fear and anger. Brill strolls to my front, slicing through the knot on my robe. The sides flutter open, and he sucks in a breath.
The rage surges and myvelliahums in my blood. The fog clears a little more.It’s enough.
Brill’s eyes glitter with malice. “I will have you my way before we’re done. Any final thoughts, darling?"
I nod.
He smirks, removing the gag.
I smile—sweet. Sincere.
"Yeah," I whisper, my exaggerated slur sobering. "You should’ve given me morehaggra.”
Then I unleash as muchvelliaas I can summon. All my fear, anger, humiliation, stress, and hatred fuels the release of my body’s chemical weapon—my self-preservation overriding every other instinct.
The effect is immediate. Brill blinks, wavering on his feet.
