Page 244 of Psycho Pack

But that's a risk we have to take.

The drive to the edge of Surhiiran territory passes in tense silence. The shady bar where we're meeting Nikolai is a stark contrast to the luxury of our newfound base. It's the kind of place that exists in the shadows between territories, where rules are more...

Flexible.

Perfect for a meeting like this.

As we pull up, I catch sight of a familiar blood-red coat through the grimy windows. Nikolai is already here, which means this could go very well or very badly.

With him, there's rarely any middle ground.

I take inventory of the other figures stationed around the bar as soon as we walk inside. A cluster of alphas and betas playing an obnoxiously loud game of pool. A handful of drunkards sprinkled around the bar in varying states of debauchery. A tipsy beta in a barely-there dress playing darts with an alpha old enough to be her grandfather. And then the usual suspects filling the worn out booths lining the walls.

There are two massive alphas standing on either side of Nikolai, both clad in long, dark coats of a typical Vrissian style that make them stick out like sore thumbs, not even trying to hide. As ordinary and in place as the other patrons appear, I know any of them might easily belong to his army as well.

A man like Nikolai never comes unprepared.

I adjust my cuffs one final time, sliding into the skin of Prytel. The wealthy, arrogant financier who's about to offer an impossible sum of money to the most dangerous mercenary in the Outer Reaches.

Time to see if I can pull off one last con.

For her.

Always for her.

Nikolai lounges at his chosen table like a king on his throne, impossible to miss in that thick blood-red overcoat that stands out like a splash of blood on fresh fallen snow. The jagged scar running diagonally across his harsh features from his forehead to his mouth tugs the corner of his lips into a permanent snarl.

His cold eyes appraise us briefly through those flashy round red lenses. He studies us with the disinterest of a cobra who's spit in death's face too many times to give a shit.

"Ah, Nikolai," I purr in my most aristocratic tone, spreading my arms in greeting. "Good to see you again, my friend."

The others take their places around the table, tension radiating off them in waves. Ivy slides gracefully into the seat beside me, playing her part of the pampered omega perfectly despite the awkward atmosphere. Wraith hovers near her, his lower face wrapped in a scarf I find myself envying.

Nikolai barely pays them a passing glance, his tinted gaze locked on me.

"Let's not insult each other's intelligence," he says with a sneer. I recognize the mask he wore at our last meeting has fallen completely. One predator baring his soul to another. "You're a terrible actor."

I hold my own mask in place a bit longer, just in case he's trying to call my bluff, but I sense the others stiffen, their hands drifting to their weapons. The faint, rumbling growl building in Wraith's chest. The way Ivy's small hand drifts further up her thigh to where a blade is no doubt nestled in a holster I'd sell my soul to be reincarnated as.

I stiffen, genuinely affronted. "I beg your pardon?"

"I've always known it was bullshit," Nikolai continues with a lazy wave of his hand. "Prytel. The financier shit. All of it."

Thane leans forward, his dark eyes narrowing. "If you knew, why not call us out?"

And just like that, my mask drops, too.

Leave it to the caveman to never have heard of keeping a poker face.

But then, what's the point?

If today goes as planned, the ruse has to fall away at some point, anyway. And the fact that those gentlemen at the pool table who've suddenly taken a far greater interest inourtable haven't reached for their weapons is proof he didn't order them to shoot on sight.

A cold smile curves Nikolai's lips. "Because it would have been unwise to ruffle the Council's feathers unnecessarily. I may be fearless, but I'm not reckless." He pauses, that unsettling smile widening. "And to put it simply? It was amusing. Especially the way you try not to sound like them." He nods to the others. "Your accent leaves something to be desired,Prytel."

I resist the urge to bare my teeth at him. My pride stings more than it should—I've always prided myself on my ability to slip into different roles. To hear him dismiss my performance so casually...

"Then why come at all?" Plague asks, his voice toneless. "Why agree to meet?"

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