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 so unfeeling that 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 exactly where 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 was her 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 23Micah

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.

“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 I will find 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 a shockwave 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 grew in 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.