Page 92 of Turmoil's Target

He nods, ever the obedient servant, and I step out onto the curb, my heels clicking a staccato rhythm.

The casino’s doors yawn open, ready to swallow me whole.

I saunter inside, all too aware of the threads tangling me in this web.

Someday soon, I’ll sever them all and emerge unbound.

But not just yet. For now, I have a part to play.

The elevator whisks me upward, numbers ticking by in glowing succession.

I drum my lacquered nails against my thigh, a beat to accompany the racing of my heart.

It’s not nerves, exactly.

More like the thrum of anticipation before the curtain rises on a particularly crucial scene.

With a muted ding, the doors slide open, revealing the lavish penthouse suite.

My mother sits perched on an ivory chaise, a vision in designer silk and calculated poise.

She rises to greet me, arms outstretched, a smile curving her lips without quite reaching her eyes. “Seraphina, darling. Right on time, as always.”

I step into her embrace, inhaling the familiar blend of Chanel and ambition. “Of course, Mum. You know I wouldn’t keep you waiting.”

She holds me at arm’s length, appraising me with a critical eye. “Indeed. Now, let’s get down to business, shall we? I’m afraid I’ll have to cut our visit short.”

“Oh?” I arch a brow, feigning surprise. “Is everything okay?”

“Quite. In fact, things are going rather splendidly. So much so that I’m needed back in London to oversee some critical negotiations.” She pauses, fixing me with a pointed look. “Which means I’ll need you to keep a close eye on things here in my absence.”

I nod, the picture of dutiful acquiescence. “Of course, Mum. Whatever you need.”

She leans in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a silken murmur. “I need you to help me take down the Reapers Rejects once and for all. They’ve been a thorn in our side for far too long.”

I feel a flicker of something like triumph in my chest, but I tamp it down, schooling my features into an expression of grim determination. “I understand. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

For a moment, my mother’s eyes gleam with a fierce pride I’ve scarcely seen before. “That’s my girl.”

She clasps my hands in hers, a rare display of maternal affection. “You know, I’ve been in talks with some other clubs who share our disdain for the Reapers. Perhaps it’s time we consider forming some strategic alliances.”

I tilt my head, curiosity piqued despite myself. “Oh? Do tell.”

I nod, a thrill of anticipation humming through my veins.

The pieces are falling into place, the board set for a game of deception.

And I’ll be the one to make the winning move.

My mother hesitates, her gaze flicking around the room as if checking for eavesdroppers. “Well, you know how the Reapers Rejects took down the Bears years ago? Wiped them out completely, or so they thought.”

I nod, recalling whispered tales of that bloody turf war. “Right. But what does that have to do with...?”

“Turns out, they missed one.” Her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “One of the Bears had a teenage son. He’s been biding his time, building up a new crew. Calls them the Kodiak MC.”

My eyes widen. “Seriously? And he wants revenge on the Reapers?”

“Precisely.” She leans back, a satisfied smile curving her lips. “He’s eager to form an alliance with us. Together, we can hit the Reapers where it hurts.”

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