AllFreeNovel
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I sit bored and resort to scrolling through my phone. The Owner, donning his gold-plated bauta mask in the shape of an owl, reaches forward and presses a button. The panel before us splits open and reveals a minibar. He gestures to the selection.
“No thank you.”
“Drink.”
I glower to myself, though I’m in plain sight of him. After intense sex with Lyra and hours of spying, the only thing I desire at the moment is a few hours of shuteye. A late-night excursion with the Owner in the backseat of a limousine, where we consume alcoholic beverages sounds far less appealing.
I forgo the alcohol altogether and opt for a bottled Slvenbaldi.
He sips his usual. Whiskey, straight. Warm, no ice.
The amber liquid slips through the opening under his bauta mask. His fathomless black eyes are on me as my gaze is on him.
The Owner intimidates many. Many bend to his will due to his unnerving presence alone. His quiet disposition and constant stare—all from beneath the mask he wears every moment of his life—make people uncomfortable.
Rich and powerful and weak and poor alike.
I’m an exception.
While the Owner is far from my favorite person, I do not fear him. I fear no one. I fear nothing.
Though, admittedly, the Owner is perhaps the last person I’d intentionally infuriate.
Mostly due to the longstanding complications it’d cause.
“Your time is up,” he says after minutes of silence. We’ve now crossed into upper Easton territory, reflected in the sleek, modern buildings and clean streets. “You were at her residence. She is still alive.”
I square my jaw from how hard I grit my teeth. “It would help if I were not being micromanaged every other second.”
“You have had the freedom to do as you please. It has been weeks.”
“I am earning her trust.”
“Trust is not needed for what you have to do.”
“It is if it’s to be an accident,” I snap, my agitation mounting. It sharpens my tone and curls my fists in my lap. “You may think because of the illicit activity I sometimes take part in that I eliminate my prey without thought. That couldn’t be further from the truth—I often spend weeks, sometimes months stalking them. I’m a hunter and they are my game. I do not go in for the kill until it is the right time to do so.”
“The right time to do so has passed. Your instruction was clear. You are to dispose of her.” He sets down his glass of whiskey and sits, composed, opposite me, as though he’s a statue on a monument. His posture is rigid and straight, his hands relaxed in his lap. The mask he wears disguises him, however, I sense the same can be said of his face.
Strangely enough, it is the huge, black eyes of his owl mask carrying the most emotion.
Cold indifference. Watchful scrutiny. Endless authority.
He sees all. He controls all. He wins all.
The unspoken truth of the Midnight Society. The unspoken truth of my life from the time I was a kid.
The moment I was reborn in blood...
I tear my gaze away and look out the window. “I will take care of it. I have given you my word I will.”
“You will be given one more chance. If you fail, it is not only she that will suffer.”
“Your threats fall on deaf ears. You know I do not respond to them.”
“This time, you will.”
“Where are we going?” I snap, my fists tight.
