Page 6 of Emperor of Wrath

Where R U?!?

Me

RED ALERT. Kir is here with fucking KENZO.

Me

CALL ME OR FREY!!

There’s nothing. Not even the little dots, like he’s typing.

Goddammit, Damian.

I exhale deeply, trying to slow my hammering pulse as I chance a quick peek around the corner. I don’t see either of them, but still.

Freya’s right. We should walk away from this, now. Kir here is bad enough. But Kenzo Mori is Defcon one, nuclear strike imminent.

If the dangerous devil who promised to haunt my nightmares sees me here, this is going to go very, very badly.

And yet…

Something else spikes in my bloodstream beyond the fight or flight response.

Excitement.

It’s why I’m so good at what I do, just like some lunatics go base-jumping or choose to swim with sharks: the very possibility of danger and getting caught makes my blood run hotter and focuses my senses.

I’m not a good thief despite the fear of being caught. I’m an amazing thief because of it. That fear is a performance-enhancing drug to me.

I swallow the lump in my throat, my pulse quickening again as something electric zips up my spine.

“Where are they?”

Freya is silent for a second.

“You do remember what I literally just told you, right? Fucking Kenzo is?—”

“The favor Damian can get for this would be huge, Freya. For us, for him. For Kir.”

“Heard, but can we also agree that getting caught by a psycho Yakuza Viking who wants you dead and doesn’t seem to understand the concept of ‘letting shit go’ would be very, very bad, yes?”

“I can make it, Frey,” I mutter quietly. “Just tell me where they are.”

She exhales heavily. “Fuck you, do NOT get caught or I will never forgive you.” She pauses, then breathes heavily again. “Okay. Got them. They’re in the library downstairs, off the main ballroom. If you go through the foyer and into the second dining room, you can take the back staircase up.”

“Perfect, thanks,” I say tightly. I glance around the corner, feeling the adrenaline rush explode through my veins like napalm. Steadying myself, I plaster a smile onto my face and march back through the living room and into the main foyer. I thread my way through guests and waitstaff before I slip into the second dining room, then duck out the other doorway.

“I’m at the stairs,” I hiss quietly, walking up them as quickly as my heels will allow.

“Glasses on, please.”

I nod wordlessly as I get to the upstairs hallway, slipping the glasses out of my clutch and putting them back on. I drift quietly down the hall, find the door, and enter the six-six-six entry code.

The lock opens with a small, satisfying click.

I keep the room dark as I cross to the bookshelves behind Cillian’s desk. An ominous and not-at-all-creepy knife collection takes up the far wall. But I ignore it as I look for the shelf I know hides the safe.

Sure enough, when I pull on the leather-bound copy of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the shelf pops open on a silent hinge, revealing the state-of-the-art lock behind it.

---