Page 188 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

“Are you fucking serious?” Oscar snaps. “We’re going to talk about this.”

“Good,” Nat chirps. “I’ve been waiting for you to bring dressing up into the mix.”

“I hope your dad isn’t listening,” I say while Nat and I walk through the crowd to blend in.

“I don’t want to know the kind of fucking nonsense you three are talking about,” Mr. Rogers grunts. “Focus on the target.”

“They’re about to enter the back of the building,” Oscar says. “We need to move fast.”

We immediately switched gears. Instead of heading to the courtyard, where everyone is expected to go for the festivities, we followed Philip and his guards. Thanks to Mike, Oscar immediately described how each guard looked.

We hide in the corner, watching as they turn to enter the building, with one of the guards falling back to stand watch. We both put on our black masks to conceal our faces from any security cameras that might be scattered outside.

“I got him,” Nat murmurs. I watch as I stay hidden in the shadows while Nat sneaks up from him and takes him down with a quick dart to the neck. It won’t kill the man, but it would knock him out for a day. Maybe a few days if we’re being generous.

She turns around and gives me the Okay signal.

I rush to her, frowning at the unconscious guard. “That was fast.”

“I think he’s new,” She shrugs. “He wasn’t even paying attention.”

“One down, two more to go,” I say as we scan our surroundings.

We hear voices and footsteps ahead of us and quickly follow so we don’t lose them. However, we must have been too loud because one guard whirls around in time to see us rushing in.

He opens his mouth to warn Philip and the other guard, but I punch his throat. He falls on his knees, coughing. Unfortunately, that got the other's attention, and they immediately ran.

“Fuck,” I mutter, already going in their direction.

“Get them. I’ll take care of him,” Nat says. She puts a hand on her earpiece and says, “They saw, and they’re running.”

“Do you need back-up?” Mr. Rogers immediately asks. “Do you need to retreat?”

“No,” I snap. “I think it’s just the other guard now. I got this.”

I pump my legs faster to close the distance between us, watching as they round the corner. Clenching my jaw and using as much strength as possible, I hurl myself at guard number three. He grunts, attempting to retaliate, but I’m too quick. As I move to apply pressure on his neck, he seizes my wrists and twists, sending a sharp jolt of pain through my arm.

“Briar!” Nat’s voice crackles through my earpiece. “Are you okay?”

Ignoring her, I focus on the guard.

“Why are you protecting someone who is so shitty?” I glare up at him as he maneuvers over me, his hand inching towards the gun at his waist.

Without hesitation, I draw my trusty dagger from its hidden sheath and drive it into his thigh. He yelps, and I use his pain as the perfect opportunity to incapacitate him with a swift blow to the throat.

I steal the guard’s gun and whirl around to see Philip running like a coward. Ignoring the pain on my wrist, I run after him. Unfortunately for him, the door he tries to go through is locked.

“Fuck,” Philip mutters in frustration, shaking and pounding on the door.

He whirls around, scanning the surroundings until his gaze locks on another open door. He sees me coming and darts through the door. Groaning, I quickly run after him, only to slow down as I realize it's just an empty room, and I find myself standing in his path to the exit.

“Wait,” Philip lifts his hands when he sees me approaching. “Wait. What do you need? Money? I’ll—”

“I don’t want your stupid money,” I snap, slamming the door shut behind me.

He's trapped in this room with just me now. I can't help but grin.

“Briar! Update!” Mr. Rogers demands.

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