Page 121 of Dance of Deception

But I’m not, because her voice won’t fucking leave my head.

You’re a monster.

It still echoes, rattling around in my skull. I roll my shoulders, trying to exhale it out, but the weight of it lingers, sinking deeper.

“You look lonely over here.”

I take my time pulling my gaze from The Wolf to the woman standing in front of me: dark black hair, porcelain skin, ruby red lips, and a dress that looks like I could take one look at it and it'd be pooling at her ankles.

She’s got long legs, too.

Good for running.

A scowl curdles behind my mask.

“What I look like, if you’re actually bothering to look,” I growl witheringly, “is uninterested.”

She fucking stays where she is, cocking her hip and making what I’m sure she thinks is a coy expression.

It’s not. It’s fucking irritating, and it’s only getting worse by the second.

“I wouldmove, if I were you,” I mutter.

She grins, sliding toward me, looking like she's about to climb into my lap.

Yeah, no.

Immediately, I’m grabbing her wrist, lurching to my feet, and shoving her away.

“Away,” I snarl. “If I were you, I would moveawayfrom me.”

"I—sorry," she stammers, all the coyness gone from her face as she stumbles back, spilling some of her champagne and scurrying back to her friends across the room near the bar.

Good. Fucking stay there.

I can feel many eyes on me as I sink back into my seat. Moments later, I see The Bull disentangle himself from the women fawning over him. He stands, shaking his head at them as he halfway buttons his shirt and moves my way. The Stag also leaves the girl he was talking to, joining The Bull as he comes to a stop in front of me.

“You’re in a wonderful mood,” The Bull says.

I say nothing, rolling my shoulders.

The Stag watches me. “Is this about Nikolayev threatening to test boundaries?—”

I exhale sharply. “Let him test all he wants. He won’t like the results. Look, I’m here. That’s enough, isn't it.”

Such a lie. My attention keeps drifting to the tempting weight of my phone in my pocket.

I tell myself not to look.

You’re a monster.

How do you live with yourself?

Quite fuckingwell, thank you.

I have no regrets. No ghosts haunting me of anyone whose last seconds of life were spent looking in horror into my eyes. No nightmares.

I lose no sleep.

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