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“Go and save that poor dog and grab Spence,” I said. “I’ll get Ava and meet you at the point.”
Emerson agreed, parting for the stage, her expression warped in blatant disgust.
On my way to the bar, I found the pale-haired sadist, alone and hunched over, his head buried in his hands. The sofa next to him was empty, his brother nowhere in sight.
I made myself comfortable, shuffled up to his side, crossed my legs and perused my nails.
“Now, what is the Treasury doing in a brothel owned by Ludus Maximus?” I whispered (not that we could be overheard by the intermittent screams that laced the environment).
Without hesitation he launched on top of me, his hands wrapping around my throat, an endless rage leaking from his pores. I smirked up into his veiny eyes, bulging from his skull, pupils dilated from the drug-induced high. His hold wouldn’t last, his movements uncoordinated and jolty. With an easy twist of his arm, he crashed to the ground.
I crouched in front of him, assessing his sprawled form. “You’re lucky I have bigger matters to attend to tonight. But trust me when I say Iwillfind you again.”
I ran my tongue across the pad of my thumb and rubbed between my breasts. The make-up smeared and a glimpse of my most sacred tattoo peeked through beneath.
It was reckless, but the innate wrath that forever lingered inside me was alive and thumping, clawing for a way to get out.
His gaze skimmed the offending area, then returned to my eyes, disbelief clear in his dark brown orbs.
“You’re all dead,” he managed to mumble through his hazed brain.
“If only.” Tilting my head, I sealed his fate with a promise. “The Sovereign will collect what is due.”
He bellowed, but instead of attacking me, he turned and smashed his head into the glass side table over and over again. Accompanied with his self-inflicted assault, he permeated ashockwave of guilt that followed each and every hit—an emotion I wasn’t expecting to feel from him.
The out-of-town dealer hadn’t exaggerated, the Haze Dust potent enough to incapacitate even the strongest of minds.
I left him behind, leaving him to drown in his self-made hallucinations.
The crowd grewin chaotic disarray as I dodged screaming patrons in the thick of their loaded high. I spared a glance towards Spencer, whose performance now involved a vat of glitter that was upended over the stage. She was covered in glimmering pieces of tinsel, and the crowd roared in mixed enthusiasm and fear.
I vaulted over the bar to find Ava crouched below. I remained still as her gleaming grey eyes rose to mine, clear and void of any drug, showing only a healthy dose of weariness.
I pinched a corkscrew and knife off the counter. “Ava, it’s time to go.”
Her response was muffled by a series of loud booms resounding off the walls. Pink mist and fluorescent confetti engulfed the room, obscuring everything in sight—Spencer’s warning that Ludus Maximus enforcements had arrived.
Crouching next to Ava, visibility was fading fast. “We have to leave.Now,”I implored.
I closed her fingers over the knife handle and gave half a shrug. “I’d offer you a gun, but I couldn’t hide it anywhere,” I said, smirking down at my outfit (which could arguably be classified as such).
Her grasp tightened, features animating out of shock. “Are you Micah? Spencer told me you’re Au—"
I pressed a finger to her lips. “Those names are too dangerous to state out loud. But yes, I’m his.”
Her wavering lips lifted into a smile and I offered my own in return.
“I know a back entrance,” she said. I let her lead me by the hand, her contact more bearable than most.
We reached the end of the bar where a guard blocked our way, only his imposing outline recogniseable through the thick smoke.
“What do we have here?” he asked, voice mocking and clear, portraying his lucid mind. “OurDaisyisn’t trying to leave us, is she?” he clucked. “Get on your knees while we wait for this fucking mess to clear. You should know better, little flower, there’s no escape for you.”
I pushed Ava behind me and crouched into a fighting stance, the corkscrew sticking out between my fingers. “Your wish is my command, sweetie.”
He swaggered forward and, like a good girl, I did as he asked and dropped to my knees, plunging the cork screw directly into his thigh, right to the hilt. I couldn’t pull it out—I tried—my weapon stuck in his torn flesh.
With each tug, his breath hitched, a pained wheeze escaping through his teeth. Identifying a lost cause, I bolted to my feet, my hand blindly closing around the closest solid item as I proceeded to smash it over his hard skull.
