Page 25

“Be back later. I’ll be entering through the basement,” I tell her, feeling the weight of every second I’ll be away from her.

“Okay.” She nods nonchalantly, but the flicker in her eyes—it’s quick, like the spark of a match—and I can’t decipher if it’s born from fear or something darker, akin to the thrill of the unknown.

“Lock up after me,” I say, leaving unsaid the ‘be safe’ that hangs between us like a loaded gun.

“Okay,” she replies, putting the mug on the table and turning back to her laptop, fingers dancing over the keyboard as if they might ward off any lingering demons.

I step outside, the door clicking shut behind me, and the world shifts into sharper focus. Every shadow is an enemy, every sound a potential threat. I’m on alert, alive with the tension of what I do—what I am. It’s a dance with danger and has its own rhythm, a staccato beat that matches the pounding of my heart.

Recon first, money pickup second. Then tonight’s hit—an act of vengeance for a woman done wrong. The jobs lineup in my mind like dominoes, and I know all it takes is one to fall for the rest to come crashing down.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, pushing away thoughts of Aurora alone in the house. Got to keep my head in the game. Can’t afford distractions now.

But as I merge onto the bustling streets, heading towards The Cross and its neon-lit promises of sin, I can’t shake the image of her nodding at me, the enigma in her dark eyes. Excitement or fear? Maybe in our twisted world, they’re the same.

The city is a hive of filth and greed—a playground for the likes of me. I’m a shadow among them, slipping through the crowds with predatory ease. Recon is done quickly—that Korean gangster won’t know what hit him. Then it’s on to the strip joints, those dens of iniquity where cash flows like cheap liquor. I scoop up the week’s earnings, the weight of the bags grounding me in the reality of my trade.

Matteo’s office looms ahead, a monolith of dirty dealings and power plays. I shoulder through the revolving doors, the lobby’s sterility clashing with the dirtiness of my work. The lift carries me skyward, and I can almost feel the pressure change, like ascending to some twisted Olympus where gods deal in bullets instead of thunderbolts.

As the doors slide open, three pairs of painted eyes size me up from behind their desk barricade. They’re Matteo’s sirens, luring men to their doom with honeyed words and poisoned smiles.

“Morning, ladies,” I drawl, my grin all teeth. They titter and coo, pressing the buzzer that will announce my presence to the big man himself.

“Mr Greyson,” one purrs, her gaze flicking over me like she’s considering unwrapping me right there. “He’ll see you now.”

Spike’s waiting, his bulk a testament to the violent currency we trade in. We’re two sides of the same bloodstained coin, Spike and me.

“Greyson.” He nods, the corner of his mouth ticking up in what passes for a smile in our line of work.

“Got something fresh for the boss,” I say, patting the bag. “How’s tricks?”

“Same shit, different day.” He shrugs, leading me to the sanctum where the devil conducts his orchestra of vice.

Matteo’s office door swings open to reveal the kingdom he’s built on sin. He’s there alright, king of the damned, sitting at his desk with his queen of venom, Eleanor, perched beside him. They’re an image straight out of some fucked-up fairy tale—beauty and the beast, running the underworld side by side.

“Greyson,” Matteo greets, his voice smooth as the blade I carry. “What’ve you got for me?”

“Your daily bread,” I reply.

“Hello, Felix,” Eleanor’s voice slices through the room, cool and detached. She doesn’t even bother looking up from her laptop but keeps tapping away like we’re nothing but blips on her radar.

“Hey, Eleanor,” I reply, dropping the bags of cash onto Matteo’s desk with a thud.

“How have you been?” Matteo asks, eyeing me with that look—like he’s always searching for cracks in my armour.

“Can’t complain.” I chuckle, shrugging off the question.

“Girlfriend keeping you out of trouble?” His smirk is knowing. He’s seen the change in me. Hell, everyone has since Aurora came into the picture.

“Something like that,” I say with a careless grin. Don’t need him prying too deep.

Eleanor finally chimes in, her voice dripping with mock curiosity. “I wanna meet her. A woman who can have you being all nice is worth my time.”

“Nice? Felix?” Matteo laughs a deep rumble that echoes off the walls. “I’m nice to you every day, Eleanor. Does that mean you wanna hang with me more?”

She looks at him, eyes bright with amusement. “Fuck off, Matteo.”

Their banter is a familiar tune that’s played on repeat for as long as I’ve known them. The underworld’s odd couple, and damn if it isn’t true.