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“I’m fully booked tonight.”
His fingers tightened, my scalp screaming from the tension. “I will have you.”
To alleviate the sting, I grasped his hand, ready to snap it the fuck off, then stiffened. My fingertips brushed against a small-circled brand raised on the inside of his wrist and an involuntary gasp escaped me at the unexpected find.
Out of nowhere, the polished brother opposite pinpointed his attention in our direction, the first and only time he’d pitched his interest towards anything. His stoic mask hardly cracked, dark brown eyes flat and hollow as they slithered over our position. He simply raised an eyebrow to his brother, whose fingers still remained in the roots of my hair.
In one glance, they held a full conversation without expressing a single word. The telepathic communication of siblings was all too familiar amid me and mine.
The violent sadist was a predictable beast, one I had conquered numerous times. Though the other was an intimidating monster all on his own, purely on the basis that I couldn’t sense anything. Not because he was blocking me with his own Variant, but more that he was sounfeelingthat he felt nothing. Nothing at all.
The pale-haired brute shoved me to the ground, his gaze never wavering from his brother’s. “Fucking leave us.”
I didn’t give him a chance to reconsider, disappearing before either of them could break eye contact.
I had to find Emerson. The plan had changed.
Emerson was exactlywhere she was supposed to be, situated at the large, industrial kitchen sink.
She was disguised as a dishwasher boy, her female curves easily cloaked beneath her oversized mens’ clothing. An additional apron was thrown on top and her long, sunkissed hair was wrapped tightly in a filthy chef’s hat. Most impressive washer slumped posture and clumsy movements. She really did pass for a lanky teenager.
“Come here, boy, I have a job for you,” I said. She nodded fervently, tripping over her own feet to keep up with my long strides.
We slipped into a shadowed alcove, Emerson leaning against the far wall. “What happened to your face?”
“I’ve got it sorted.” She raised an eyebrow and I rolled my eyes. “Let’s fast forward the plan, before I end up killing every single fucking person in this place.”
She snickered, reaching into her pocket and raising the bag of Haze Dust. It was empty.
“You spiked the food already?”
“You’d be surprised how many of these morons come to a female brothel looking for something of the sausage variety,” she huffed. “I’m never disguising myself as a boy again.”
I pouted. “But Meek, you’re so convincing.”
“Well, due to that, there’s a couple of bodies stashed in the back of the walk-in freezer, ‘cause they couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.”
“How many?”
“Enough that it will start to cause suspicion.” Beeping sounded from her apron and Emerson fished out a kitchen timer that had clicked down to zero. “Lucky for us, the Haze Dust should be kicking in.”
Familiar erotic music with a pounding base pulsated the air. Our eyes met, the mirror image of a sly smile stretching both our lips.
We weren’t the only ones wanting to speed up the plan.
Chapter 23
Micah
Emerson and I raced into the theatre room and my smile turned rabid. My arms stretched wide in welcome, embracing the madness before me. Flares of wayward emotion filled the atmosphere with spectacular colour and finesse.
Spencer was centre stage, working the pole like a true professional. It would have been sexy if she wasn’t wearing a full-bodied flamingo suit, her hair and eyes altered bright pink to match. That wasn’t even the most bizarre scene.
Considered one of the most potent hallucinogenic drugs on the market, the Haze Dust had certainly taken effect. And with the amount we had laced the food with, everyone was well and truly fucked.
My eyes skimmed over the crowd in glee. Most were screaming, fighting or fucking. Whatever their idled brains could handle.
My gaze stalled on Eden, who was seated in the VIP seat front-of-stage, tongue molesting her chihuahua’s mouth. I gagged, my body releasing an involuntary tremor.
