Alliance || 1 || ✔️ mature

32 | Eleven

"She was alive." He cackles once more, head thrown back from his position knelt at my feet. "That bitch was alive."

"You're lying."

"No." He hisses, "But I should've killed the bitch when I had the chance, see the life drain from her eyes as I carved into her sweet flesh."

The gunshot is muted in my ears, the ringing echoing around me as I watch the blood splatter the wall behind him. I swallow, letting my hand drop before I wipe my bloody fist on my thigh, turning my back on Jedrik Molotov's body.

The night is freezing when I exit into it, my mind on one destination.

I'm going home.

"Jedrik Molotov hasn't been seen with Dimitri, so it is to my understanding that Dimitri is working alone, or at least without Jedrik. No one has seen Jedrik in months, so it seems he's laying low, so our focus is only on Dimitri at this time." Clay finishes, my blood pumping loudly in my ears.

"What's the plan?" Cleo asks, standing up.

"We're going to go check out Jedrik and Dimitris old haunt, see what we can find."

"Where?"

"The Glass Box was their favourite, we'll start there."

I blink out of the residual memory, feeling eyes on me and ignoring them. "When?" I ask, my eyebrows drawing together in thought.

"We'll start this afternoon."

• • •

I stalk the streets, footsteps almost silent against the pavement, a blanket of dusk coating the quiet street. A pantsuit conforms to my body, thick black material wrapping tightly along my figure, a deep V dipping low to my chest, a peek of cleavage showing.

Cleo walks beside me, bathed in a beautiful emerald dress, a dark haired weave atop her head.

Liam walks slightly behind us, white dress shirt rolled up at to his elbows, exposing the tattoos printed on his skin. His strawberry blonde hair styled in a slicked back look, curling at the nape.

I smooth a hand down my suit, footsteps eating up the distance along the dark street, the sound and chatter of the market down the street coming to life.

The comm in my ear buzzes for a moment before Clay's voice erupts.

"No sign of Volkov or Molotov, or any of their known supporters." He says, his voice crackling over the ear piece.

My eyes track the faces I pass, shopfronts beaming with customers as I hear Liam reply, "Nothing from outside."

I ignore the man behind me, not turning to him as his voice cuts off, walking up the the door of our destination, disappearing inside.

My eyes sweep over the patrons, numerous pairs of eyes swinging towards me, curiosity and lust in their eyes before they see just another blonde girl in their midst, their attention diverted onto bigger and better things, their experiment reaching new highs as the noise in the room builds.

I wind through the patrons, Cleo beside me, her dark eyes bouncing from one face to another as we make our way to the bar, slipping into the stools, our eyes drawn to the glass box situated in the middle of the establishment.

Liam leans behind us, his elbows resting on the bar, eyes sweeping over the patrons, finding three women sitting on the other side of the bar, two blonde and one brunette sitting a bar stool away.

I pull my eyes back to the glass box as a roar tears through the spectators, their hands raised as they stand from their seats in excitement.

A body crashes into the double walled glass, blood hand print left behind before they push off the glass, their sweaty chest heaving up and down with their heavy breaths, blood dripping from a cut on their brow.