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Brox tilts his head slightly. “Tonight may look different.”

“Different how?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Rio does. “It’s where your training comes in.”

I blink. “What training?”

Rio cups my chin between his fingers and tilts my face up until our eyes meet. “Being aware,” he says quietly.

Brox adds, “In control.”

“In control over what?” I ask, glancing at both Brox and Rio in search of an answer.

“Your life.” Rio’s eyes hold mine.

I laugh once, short and sharp, more reflex than amusement. “That sounds ominous.”

“Maybe it is,” Brox shrugs.

I shake my head, frustration slipping through. “I seriously don’t understand you.”

“That’s alright,” Brox replies. “You don’t need to.”

I frown. “That doesn’t help.”

Rio releases my chin. “Do you trust us?”

“I do,” I say immediately. There’s no hesitation there.

Brox’s gaze softens, just a fraction. “Good.”

“We won’t let you fail,” Rio says.

“I know,” I say quietly.

Rio nods once, satisfied.

I don’t know what tonight is supposed to teach me because I don’t know what they think I’ve already learned. But judging by the way they’re looking at me, they’ve already decided I’m ready.

The elevator opens with a soft chime, and sound rushes in–music, voices, movement. We step out and head toward the steel staircase, the metal cool beneath my palm as I follow them down, taking my time in my heels. The crowd thickens with every step, bodies pressing closer, heat building as we descend into the club.

The Black Chamber is what I’m in need of tonight. Room five used to be one space until a week ago. Now it’s split. They told me there are two smaller rooms now, five and six. But that’s semantics to me. It’s not gonna make a difference.

We move through the crowd, Rio in front, Brox behind me, guiding me with a hand at my lower back. It’s subtle, but it keeps me exactly where they want me.

At the bar, there are two bartenders I haven’t met yet. One of them steps forward immediately, holding two glasses of whisky.

“Thank you, Jack,” Rio says, taking one without breaking stride.

Brox takes the other.

The bartender looks at me next. “Can I get you something?”

“Um, I think I’m gonna have a cocktail,” I say.

I feel good tonight. Lighter. Morales is dead. I’m gonna celebrate.

“What kind?” he asks.