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I was born for it.
I would die for it.
Or I was supposed to, but now, after that night and the mess that followed, I’m not sure what my purpose is anymore. It’ll be whatever they tell me it is. More specifically, whatevershetells me it is.
After all the decisions I made, she chose to keep me alive, and that was definitely intentional. I have a purpose to serve. I was allowed to hide away for six months, get lost in myself as I figured out my life without my parents, but I wasn’t foolish enough to think it would last, so now, it’s time to step up as is required of me.
After placing my cell on the pristine black bartop, I cross my legs, getting comfortable in my seat. Mirrors run around the edging at the top and bottom of the bar, as well as behind the bottles of liquor. It almost stands in the center of the room like a disco ball, projecting light across the entire space as the sensual music plays and the sound of moans and groans bounce off every wall.
The bartender signals that he’ll be just a second, and I offer a nod in response. Distracted by my phone vibrating on the counter, my eyes immediately drop to it. Quickly unlocking it, I skim through the text.
Luna
Targets confirmed. I’m trusting you, Wren, and we both know I shouldn’t. I have men on the ground if your safety becomes an issue. Don’t make me regret giving you this chance.
I had a feeling she would have eyes on me, waiting until I was seated and in place before reaching out. She shouldn’t trust me. Well, not the version of me I was six months ago.
I was a bitch. I mean, I still am, but I’m not… heartless, driven by evil, and controlled like a puppet like I once was. No, now I have no fucking clue who I am. Gone is the caramel hair, stone-faced expression, and the desire to slaughter anyone and everyone in my path. In its place is the platinum blonde I’m slowly becoming accustomed to, a forced smile that gets a little less fake every day, and only cravings of a sexual nature thrums through my veins. The murderous kind is on the back burner.
I’m attempting to piece some form of life together, and this is where it begins.
With a quick response, I confirm my understanding before situating the phone back to its place. I’m here to do a job. The better I focus, the quicker I can get the fuck out of here.
The drinks menu is within arm’s reach, so while I wait for the bartender to appear, I peruse the list of cocktails. Sitting in a Featherstone establishment, under a Featherstone reservation, no one is going to question my age, so I’m making the most of it. But all the cocktails sound far too sweet and cutesy. I need something strong and sharp to relax the nerves warring within me.
When I sense a presence approaching on the other side of the bar, I look up to see the smile of the blond-haired bartender. He has a dimple to the right of his mouth, soft, full lips, and piercing blue eyes. Any girl's wet dream, but he’s far too delicate for me. I like a man with a hint of mystery in his eyes, who radiates power in his every stride, and gives off a completefuck youvibe. This guy has none of that.
“Good evening,” he murmurs, placing a yellow and red cocktail before me, topped off with a little umbrella and neon green mixer. My brows scrunch at the choice of drink, and I wait for him to continue. “A gift from some patrons,” he adds in explanation, but the wrinkles on my forehead only deepen.
“Do I get to know where these patrons are, and why they'd assumethisis what I would opt to drink?” I ask, disbelief evident in my tone as I raise an eyebrow at him.
“Feisty. I like it,” he retorts.I’m sure you do. It’s with great effort that I don’t roll my eyes at him. “I’m not saying they’re sitting in the booth directly behind you, staring this way to see what you do, but I’m also notnotsaying that, if you know what I mean.” He finishes with a wink.
Wow. Just wow. Can this guy stop talking already?
I rake my teeth over my bottom lip, forcing every snarky response down like a hard pill before I finally respond. “I understand. And the drink? Am I supposed to just accept something I don’t want?” I tap my finger on the bartop, watching as he peeks at my breasts before finding my gaze again.
“You can switch it for whatever you like,” he advises, running his fingers through his hair, and a smile spreads across my face.
“Perfect, I will take a shot of Sambuca and a bottle of water, please. Actually, make that two shots,” I order, spying the bottle behind him in one of the stands. It was always available at the parties on campus at Featherstone Academy, and I haven’t had it in forever.
He takes the cocktail away, fixing my order, and I sense eyes burning into my back, assessing my every move. I don’t want to turn and look at them, not yet, but my gut knows it’s exactly who I’ve been sent here for.
A moment later, the bartender returns with two shots and a bottle of water, and I offer a tight smile in thanks.
Focus on what you’re here to do, Wren. It’s exactly what you’ve trained for your entire life.
With that thought in mind, I down one shot, letting the liquor burn my throat, shortly followed by the other. A satisfied smile stretches across my face as I grab the bottle of water. Rising to my feet, I turn on my heels with purpose.
My eyes flash as I catch a glimpse of my admirers. Yup, it’s them. Every single one of them.
I have their attention without even trying, and that makes the sultry glint in my eyes brighter as my sensual grin widens.
Tonight, they’re mine.
2
MATTEO
