The music gradually diffused as I tracked Oscar’s aura further into the building. I’d passed countless passageways and descended multiple sets of stairs, the pink mist well and truly gone.

My steps slowed, movements wary as voices grew louder with my approach. Oscar’s undeniably gruff tone could be heard through the wooden door in front of me, clearly unimpressed. “What the fuck happened up there? You know my boss puts confidentiality above all else. We don’t like surprises.” I couldn’t hear the reply, except placating undertones.

All fell silent, as if they had disappeared. I hadn’t come this far not to follow through.

My hand idled on the door handle when a solid weight slammed into my side, pushing my back against the adjoining wall, a steady palm held firmly against my mouth.

Surprise flickered through my system in clear warning. I didn’t feel his approach, couldn’t read his attack. He had fully invaded my space undetected.

Unheard of.

My expression cleared as his cold, dark brown eyes engulfed my own. I wasn’t the only one slinking round this joint, the pristine black-haired male making his own exploration. And unlike his brother, he was dead sober.

I caught his hand as he retracted from my face, my fingers intentionally digging into the same brand raised on his inner wrist. He didn’t stop me, didn’t attempt to contradict my find.

The same blazing fury simmered in my veins at the confirmation. A high-ranked member of the Treasury, identified by the design of his brand alone: a coin with a dancing dragon in the centre, permanently engraved into his flesh.

My mouth curved into a scowl and I hissed. I pulled him closer and raised my knee to connect with his balls. He easily deflected the assault with a flick of his wrist and stepped out of range.

He was unnerving. Nil aura, nil emotion, nil inner being. He may as well have been dead inside, or not existed at all. My Variant wavered in my chest, as if trying to catch smoke with my bare hands.

“What the fuck did you do to my brother?” he snarled under his breath.

I folded my arms to stop my fingers from wrapping around his clean-shaven throat. I had to remain calm, before we were found. “He saw a ghost.”

He caught the movement, eyes homing in on the centre of my chest, features stalling as he registered the golden crown tattoo of the Sovereign.

His lips hardly moved as he said, “Who are you?”

“I’m your fucking conscience, in living form.”

His stare glazed over before he shook his head, as if to dispel past memories. He retreated backward, one careful step at a time. “Do not follow them down there. The Caverns are too vast and elaborate. It won’t end well for you.”

Why did it sound like he was concerned? Like he was warning me?

I had two options: pursue him, or pursue Oscar. The result wasn’t even a conscious decision. Ever since I’d seen my father’s old friend and enforcer alive, the need to enact revenge and gain answers had consumed my every waking moment.

Betrayal. The sole answer I could easily identify. So, with my Variant practically dying, cinders in my bones, I pushed away every cell in my body that screamed to stay, fight and interrogate the male in front of me.

I ignored his whispered warning and pushed down on the door handle. When I lifted my head, I saw a glimpse of respect flicker in the depths of his frigid gaze.

He dug in his inner suit pocket to flick something in my direction. On instinct, I caught the golden coin in the palm of my hand, the Treasury dragon emblem engraved on one side and a date and address on the other.

I pocketed the offer by slipping the coin beneath my breast, hoping the flimsy lingerie would hold.

“‘Till we meet again,” I promised.

“King,” he acknowledged, earring dangling as he tilted his head in farewell. His silent steps retreated down the corridor, disappearing like an eclipsed mirage, as if he was never there to begin with.

Chapter 24Psycho

The cell enclosed tighter, compressing on my lungs.

She should have come for me by now.

With each minute that transpired over our allocated meeting time, feelings of doubt threatened to slither forward and corrupt my stronghold image of her.

Have I been played? Has she left me here to rot?

No matter how her vision played out in my head, I couldn’t bring myself to believe she had abandoned me. What we had went beyond reason, beyond comprehension.

Why has she not come for me?

A clicking at my door alerted me in time to slink into the darkened corner of my room. A savage smile dominated my face as my fingers tightened around the shank I stole from Walter.

In the minimal glow of moonlight, I could make out a toned, muscular, dark-skinned male meander into the room, trailed by a petite blonde, both in biker gear. As the door clicked shut behind them, my corporeal system ticked over into predator mode. They were strange, even with the barrier in place. Especially him—warning vibes ran off him like a steady stream.

I was waiting for my golden girl, but this would have to do.

My muscles tensed for the inevitable onslaught when the male’s head pivoted my way, his smoky brown stare fastened on my hidden position. I was drenched in shadow, hardly visible, but his gaze held mine and never wavered, boring straight into my brain as if to pick apart the pieces he found worthy of examining.

He was shorter than me by a mere couple of inches. Accompanied with his pretty boy features, he emanated a certain allure and magnetism that screamed equal parts power and danger.

My type of guy. Finally, a worthy opponent, my mouth watering from the challenge.

Action now, questions later.

He lifted a brow and I launched towards him when my body was hit off-balance from the side. All my focus was on the pretty boy before me, my brain blocking out the tiny blonde as a non-threat—which I paid for.

Before I could even register her movement, she’d released a high kick that hit directly into my ribs with an echoing crack. My knees buckled to the ground, shallow gasps escaping my throat.

I narrowed my lids at her approach. The little kitten had claws, and judging by her deadly expression, she was ready to deliver. The metallic twang of blood rolled over my tongue. I coughed up the remainder and spat at her feet, the gauntlet well and truly laid.

“Don’t underestimate me,” she said, her sing-song voice chiming like bells.

“An oversight on my part. One I won’t make again.” Jolting to my feet, I rolled my shoulders back in preparation. I’ll snap Pixie Face in half, then dispose of her companion, pop some of those porcelain teeth straight out of his smug mouth (which hadn’t lost its smirk since I was knocked to the ground).

Pretty Boy gripped her shoulder. “We aren’t here to fight, Meek. We’re here to break him out.”

“Who the fuck are you?” I growled.

Pixie Face sneered and shook off his hand. “We’re wasting time. We should cut our losses and search ourselves.”

“We would waste more time if we got lost down there.” His tone was impatient, as if he was restraining himself from rolling his eyes. “We can’t kill him. Micah wouldn’t be pleased.”

Golden Girl?