The walk to our destination was steady, deliberate. The streets of the Slums stretched ahead in a maze of crumbling brick and flickering lamplight, the air thick with the scent of rot and damp earth. I stole a glance at Talia, expecting her usual sharp-eyed focus, but she was eerily calm, her expression unreadable. That wasn't like her.
Behind us, Ron and Rook hauled Mark's half-conscious body between them, their breaths growing heavier with every step. The bastard wasn't even that big, but dead weight had a way of making itself known.
The two recruits were struggling now, their earlier bravado stripped down to ragged exhales and clenched jaws.
Then, up ahead, it came into view—a building standing taller than most in the Slums, worn but sturdy, about the size of our old hideout. The sight of it sent a ripple of tension through my chest. This was it. If anything went wrong, we'd be walking straight into a trap.
As we approached, I took a steadying breath and rapped my knuckles against the door—three sharp knocks in succession. The response was immediate. The heavy door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit interior and three figures waiting within.
Valerie stood at the center, her ever-present smirk firmly in place, flanked by her two oversized lackeys—the so-called Spiders. Shadows curled around them, the flickering candlelight stretching their figures into something almost inhuman.
I really fucking hated that smirk.
We stepped inside, Talia and I leading the way with practiced ease, the two recruits trailing close behind, their burden sagging between them. For once, nothing had gone to shit. A rare and unexpected blessing. I'd learned long ago not to put too much faith in plans—fate had a twisted sense of humor, and I was usually the punchline.
A slow, mocking clap sliced through the dimly lit room.
"So, you actually made it... in one piece. Now that's a surprise." Valerie's voice dripped with amusement, her smirk widening as she took us in.
She leaned back against the wooden table, arms crossed, eyes gleaming with something close to boredom. Or maybe she was just waiting for me to entertain her.
I met her gaze, giving nothing away—at least, that's what I told myself.
Her head tilted slightly, testing the waters. "So, what's next, Viper?" The way she said my name, slow and deliberate, made it clear she was prodding for a reaction, searching for a crack in my exterior.
I let the silence stretch, watching her, before finally answering, my voice firm, leaving no room for argument.
"He stays alive. He'll be useful." The weight of my words settled between us. While that was technically true, I had no grand plans for Mark. Not yet. But everyone had their worth, and for now, he still had his.
Valerie's expression darkened, her smirk vanishing like a candle snuffed out. Her eyes sharpened, cutting through the air like knives. "I don't like your tone, Viper," she said, voice low and edged with something dangerous, something razor-thin and lethal. "You don't give orders here."
She stepped closer to Mark, the two men holding him shifting slightly at her approach. I clenched my jaw. This bitch.
I let out a slow breath, keeping my voice even, though I could feel the first fractures forming beneath the surface. "I only answered your question," I replied, measured and calm—at least outwardly. My feet carried me a little closer to Mark, instinct guiding the movement. Talia shadowed me, her silence heavy, her hands curling into tight fists at her sides.
Valerie stopped in front of Mark, tilting her head as if considering something. He was starting to come around, sluggish and confused, blinking up at her through the haze of half-consciousness. His breath hitched as she reached for him, slender fingers gripping his chin, tilting his face upward with slow, deliberate precision. That was enough to fully wake him.
"P-please," he stammered, his voice quivering, thick with panic. "D-don't hurt me, my father—he'll pay you, anything you want, just—please, don't—"
The crack of her slap echoed through the dimly lit room, snapping his head to the side. A sharp, wet sound followed—a mix of a whimper and a gasp.
"Quiet, pig." Her voice was cold, unimpressed, as if his terror was nothing more than an inconvenience.
She let go of his chin with a flick of her fingers, as if discarding something filthy, watching with disdain as he trembled in place. His face was streaked with tears and snot now, his breath coming in uneven gasps. Valerie's lip curled.
"He's already served his purpose," she said after a moment, her tone turning almost bored. "I don't see why we need to keep him around."
"With him around, we can stall for longer. Keep the Angels chasing their own tails," I said, forcing my voice to stay level, hoping to pull this back from the brink. Valerie's expression remained unreadable for a moment, her eyes flickering with something unreadable. Then, slowly, her lips curled into a smirk.
A glint of silver caught the dim light.
Her knife flashed—too fast to react, too sudden to stop.
The blade sank into Mark's skull with a sickening crunch, the force of it snapping his head back before his body crumpled to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut.
A wet, final exhale left his lips. My fingers were already curling around the hilt of my dagger, the sound of steel leaving its sheath drowned out by the dull thud of his corpse hitting the ground.
"Are you fucking crazy?!" The words ripped from my throat, raw with fury. I didn't care that my voice shook. Didn't care that I was inches from lunging at her right then and there.
Valerie turned to face me, her smirk unfazed, her movements unhurried. Behind her, her underlings shifted, forming a loose semi-circle at her back. Five against two. Manageable, but risky. Especially in a place like this. Fuck.
Talia moved, stepping forward with that lethal, unspoken intent, but I threw out an arm, stopping her before she could escalate things further. The heat of her anger burned beside me, but I couldn't let this spiral. Not yet.
"Okay," I said, my tone sharp, edged with warning. "Let's calm down for a second." My words weren't a suggestion. They were a demand.
Valerie tilted her head, watching me with the lazy amusement of a cat toying with a cornered mouse. Then she chuckled, the sound low and mocking.
"Oh, we're all calm, Viper," she said smoothly, gesturing slightly to the men at her sides. "My people, at least."
I inhaled deeply, forcing my pulse to steady. Letting emotions cloud my judgment wouldn't help anyone—not now. Not when the alliance was already hanging by a thread. My gaze locked onto Valerie, the cause of this latest disaster, her expression infuriatingly composed.
"Alright, Valerie. That was a mistake," I said, my voice measured but firm. "He was useful. You didn't have to throw away an asset just for some useless power-play."
She chuckled, a soft, dismissive sound, shaking her head as if my words barely reached her. "Power plays, you say?" she mused, her tone like silk laced with steel. "I don't need to play with you, love. We both know our places."
That arrogant tone of hers—calm, unwavering, as though everything, even this, was unfolding exactly as she intended—made my teeth clench. This wasn't just reckless. It was destabilizing. The alliance was already fragile, and now she had shattered one of our few advantages for no reason other than amusement.
I exhaled sharply. This wasn't the time to argue. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves," I said, pivoting, pushing the conversation forward before we lost control of it entirely. "The mission is done. No use dwelling on what's lost. What matters now is the split—this divides their attention. We can funnel them straight into the trap."
Her lips curled into something between a smirk and a sneer. "Oh, yes," she drawled, eyes glinting with something unreadable. "And for that, you'll be paying a visit to the infamous Link? Am I right?"
The name sent a ripple of tension through my spine, though I didn't let it show.
"And tell me," she continued, still toying with the moment, still savoring it like a fine wine, "what makes you so sure he'll keep his promises?"
Her amusement had dulled now, something sharper edging into her voice. A test, maybe. Or a warning.
I met her gaze, weighing my words before speaking. That was the thing about people like Link. You never knew for sure
"For that," I said, tilting my head ever so slightly, "I was hoping to borrow one of your people. You know, get him an assistant."
Valerie's smile deepened, a knowing glint sparking in her eyes. "Not a bad idea," she mused, amusement laced through her words. "I did hear he was looking for new hires." A soft chuckle followed, light, easy—too easy. Like everything about her, it carried the weight of unspoken things, of power wielded in whispers rather than shouts.
Minutes stretched longer than they should have, negotiations unraveling in slow, deliberate exchanges. But at last, we stepped beyond her grasp, out into the cool embrace of the night.
The air was sharp against my skin—a stark contrast to the thick, stifling tension that had pressed in on us back in that room. I rolled my shoulders, exhaling slowly, letting the remnants of the encounter bleed away into the darkness.
Beside me, Talia was seething. It wasn't just in her face but in the way she moved, the tautness in her shoulders, the rigid set of her jaw. The moment we were clear, she spun toward me, words spilling out before she could stop them.
"That bitch is fucking crazy," she hissed, her voice low but brimming with barely contained frustration. "She's going to get us all killed one day. I swear it."
I let a slow smirk pull at the corner of my lips, glancing at her from the side. "You might be right," I murmured, the words slipping out smooth, unhurried. Then, with a wink, I added, "That is, if we don't beat her to it first."
Talia's voice cut through the quiet, steady but laced with something just beneath the surface—curiosity, maybe, or suspicion.
"So, when are we paying this Link of yours a visit?" She tilted her head slightly, watching me with sharp, assessing eyes. "And who is he, anyway?"
I let a breath slip past my lips, weighing my answer. "Tomorrow," I said, then reconsidered. "Or the day after. The guy's smart—smarter than most. But I've got the drop on him."
Her expression didn't change, but I caught the flicker of interest in her eyes. She was waiting, expecting more. I hesitated for a beat, then met her gaze head-on.
"As for who he is…" I let the words hang, the weight of them settling between us. "He's where it all started. The source of all this madness. The one who sold us out."
Silence stretched, thick with unspoken things. The night around us was still, but inside, the storm hadn't settled. Not yet.