Page 2

“I have got to know…”

A voice that grates my nerves down to raw strings echoes from behind a thin wall separating my storefront from the back room. “Why does this place smell so weird?”

My eyes squeeze shut, a premature headache blooming in my temples. One would think I’d be accustomed to him, or perhaps have acquired the ability to ignore him, but alas, I have not.

For a few steadying breaths, I consider making the fool—who is likely touching something he shouldn’t—wait until I’m done with my current task, but decide against it. He will only end up breaking a vase or knocking over a plant if I do.

Running my hands down my face, I push to my feet and emerge from behind the aged beads draped over the small doorway. As expected, I’m greeted with the profile of Alexi Babin running his fingers over the stem of a Monstera deliciosa .

Today, his long hair is pulled back into a bun, the ends peeking recklessly from the black band holding it loosely together. A midnight blue button-down clings to his body, showcasing a lean but muscular frame, while suspenders dangle at his side, resting against his tailored slacks.

At this angle, I’m able to appreciate the beauty in God’s fallen angel, and can admit if I were a lesser woman—or perhaps mentally unwell—I might find him desirable. Since I am neither, I only find his presence utterly taxing instead.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I ask, slipping behind my counter and keeping my demeanor calm. I make my hands busy with cutting the twine I leave out to finish wrapping bouquet orders. Better to do that than possibly stab him in the throat with a pair of my good scissors.

“It’s the bodies, isn’t it? You use them in your compost.” Alexi’s smirk is broad. “Smart. Reduce, reuse, recycle, and all.”

“Alexi.” My voice is a command and question twisted together, and fortunately, he heeds the request.

“Fuck my pleasantries, then. Straight to business.” He turns, slipping both hands into his slacks. The top few buttons of his shirt are undone, giving way to a myriad of tattoos covering his tan chest, along with a small bandage almost fully soaked through with blood. “You should already know why I’m here. I do believe it’s for your benefit, after all, that I didn’t say what I wanted when I came by with my brother.”

I nod once, recalling the very brief meeting we had a few days ago. Nikolai, Alexi’s brother and enforcer to the Babin Family, is the sole proprietor of a plant I grow that he uses in a toxin. Niko made the mistake of leaving a vial of it at a murder scene, and a federal agent had the contents analyzed. They both stopped by to warn me that I may be receiving visits from the authorities and not to worry because they would handle it. I should have figured that was too good to be true.

Nikolai isn’t aware of who I truly am beyond the veil I’ve perfected, and outside of his monthly visits for more plants, we rarely speak for him to be any the wiser. Alexi, on the other hand, knows all too well the monster within, so it shouldn’t come as any surprise that he would return alone to tell me what he really wanted.

And now, as he makes a show of closing his eyes, tilting his head while sticking out his tongue like a child, and running a thumb across his throat to drive in his point, I fully understand what he’s going to ask me to do.

I continue to cut the twine. “Alright.”

Alexi finally abandons my Monstera and takes a few broad steps toward me. My body instinctively tenses as he nears while his hazel eyes shimmer with a familiar glow I remember from when we first met—the night he found me hovering over my second kill. The one that condemned my future that was already doomed.

Fate has always been fickle with me, but that night, it was as though she was enacting a long, sought-out revenge.

“You have a month.”

My eyes roll as I drop the twine and scissors in unison. “You want me to kill a federal agent in thirty days?”

He shrugs halfheartedly, an eyebrow lifting. “I expect you to. Also, don’t arouse any more suspicion. My brother would throw a tantrum if I got his little plant lady locked up.”

One side of my lips twitches with an irritated smirk. Many people are terrified of Alexi—rightfully so considering his temper, erratic behavior, and small army—but I am not one of them. I only partially entertain a minute percentage of his antics because I would rather not make him my enemy. My army, after all, only consists of plants, and even the most toxic of them couldn’t best his human one.

“Is there no other way? What if I gather information you could use instead?” I say it even though we both know I don’t have another choice.

Alexi shoves one hand into his pocket and places the other on the counter much too close to mine. “What can I do with information? They are deranged. Obsessed. Neurotic. And have been relentless in their stalking me for over two years now. No amount of information will stop the maniac from showing up at my door at two in the morning with flash grenades and a fuckton of idiot SWAT that will fuck up my nice floors. Do you have any idea how expensive the renovations have been?—”

“You act as if this person is a scorned lover,” I note.

He pauses, his eyebrows furrowing for a moment before he grins. It’s goofy and awestruck, like the notion is the solution to all his problems. “Wouldn’t that be funny?”

Alexi scratches through the scruff on his face absently for a moment, apparently lost in thought, and doesn’t acknowledge me until I clear my throat.

“So you need me to kill them within the month.”

It’s more of a statement that I understand the objective, but he blinks twice. “Yes, that’s been established three times now.” He begins his theatrics of studying my counter as though searching for something. A speck of dust, unevenly cut twine, the answers to the vast universe. I’m not precisely sure what he’s doing until he taps on the pad of paper I use to take orders. “You are getting old. Maybe let’s write it down.”

I bite my tongue from reminding him we are the same age and instead placate him by handing him a scrap piece of butcher paper. “How about you jot down some information that might be helpful? Such as which exact agency, known frequented locations, perhaps a name .”

Alexi releases a laugh. It’s much too boisterous to be authentic. “Oh, I thought I gave you the file. Silly me.”

A nerve in my jaw tics as I fold my arms over my chest. “Get me the file, Babin. Until then, the one-month timer is moot.”

His eyes flick to me, a playfulness passing over them as he slips his hand from his pocket. When he withdraws a switchblade, I lift a brow. An army, I can’t handle. Alexi alone? Simple.

He tips the knife toward himself, pointing to scruff that is long past a five o’clock shadow and to the vague, jagged silver mark that extends his smirk. “Would you like to know how I got this scar?”

“Not particularly.” I shove from the counter and turn, suddenly bored beyond fake pretenses. “I have things to attend to, so until you have something for me to work with, we have nothing more to discuss.”

A low chuckle follows me as I breach the beads and return to my back room. “One day, Elanora , dear. One day.”

I close my eyes, my heart pounding with the increase in my blood pressure, and it isn’t until Alexi’s heavy steps retreat toward the door and the bell above it signals his departure that I finally open them again.

While any dealings with that man are both dangerous and vexing, I’ve never felt unease—never had a reason to worry things wouldn’t go as planned. Something about this time, however, with this particular situation… Well. I’m not quite sure that will be the case.