Page 49 of Skull

Some war with rere-mice for their leathern wings,

To make my small elves coats, and some keep back

The clamorous owl that nightly hoots and wonders

At our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep;

Then to your offices and let me rest.”

The theater seemed to hold its breath as Walker glided across the stage, ribbons floating behind her, hair gleaming, her voice perfectly pitched with regal authority. Her eyes sparkled as she delivered each line, suffusing Titania’s words with warmth. Strekoza circled gracefully, echoing the same ethereal movements, the two women weaving a mesmerizing dance through the painted forest backdrop. The audience was spellbound, and applause hovered on the verge of release.

From his vantage point, Skull shifted, caught between admiration for their artistry and an undercurrent of amusement at the situation. His gaze drifted briefly to the row just ahead, where Diego Canto sat with his two bodyguards.

But his dark thoughts were overshadowed by the sheer magic unfolding on stage. Walker commanded the scene with absolute precision. Her voice soared, her expressions were seamless, every gesture fluid. Strekoza’s presence heightened the effect, a mirrored reflection of fairy-like allure. Together, their performances turned the stage into a living forest glade, alive with moonlight and a gently pulsing magic.

Diego, meanwhile, leaned closer, ogling her in a way that made Skull’s fists tighten. Boomer shot him a warning glance.Control yourself.Their mission depended on stealth and timing, not raw emotion. Still, Skull couldn’t stop a low growl from forming at the back of his throat.

Yet even with adrenaline coursing through his veins, Skull found himself awed by Walker’s poise. Each moment she spoke the bard’s words, she made them her own. She was invincible under those lights, a vision too bright to tarnish.

Skull exhaled, feeling pride and a small pang of protective concern. Walker was baring more than just skin, she was exposing herself to every eye in the theater, including Diego’s. But she owned the spotlight with flawless grace. And though he was hardly sentimental, Skull couldn’t help thinking how far each of them had come, through the labyrinth of missions and close calls, to end up here, in a sudden hush of wings and wonder, performing Shakespeare under shimmering lights.

He settled back, prepared to watch every moment. If nothing else, it was a performance that no one in the audience, least of all Diego, would soon forget.

Skull steadied himself. The performance was only the second act in a far larger play. Soon enough, the lights would go down, and in the ensuing darkness, he and Boomer would make their move on Diego. For now, he let Walker’s radiant performance keep him focused. Even if fury crept in at the sight of Diego’s hungry gaze, Skull knew thatthis,her powerful grace in front of a mesmerized theater was part of what he was fighting for.

And when the final applause died away and Titania vanished behind the falling curtain, Skull allowed himself one fleeting thought.Diego Canto can look all he wants. But tonight, he’s ours.

Walker stoodin the cramped dressing room, feigning a grand, sweeping gesture in front of the makeup mirror as if she were the most famous actress in the city. From the lacquered vanity, she could just catch sight of her own smirk, and it was hard not to grin at the absurdity. Underneath the plush, embroidered robe, she wore a tactical black catsuit that allowed her to move like a panther in the dark. She was supposed to be the theater’s starlet tonight, but the real actress was currently detained, courtesy of Walker and her people. Diego Canto was Pincho’s second-in-command, and rumor had it he possessed the key intel that could lead her to Hazard and Leigh. She needed him cornered. And her little theatrical diversion was poised to deliver.

“Here.” She thrust several folded slips of paper at the stage manager, a lanky, perpetually exasperated man who looked like he’d misplaced his patience a decade ago. “Three notes for three very important admirers in the audience.”

The stage manager took them, scanning her face suspiciously. “I suppose these are for the men you singled out earlier?” He sighed and rolled his eyes. “You actors and your demands.” But he trudged off, shaking his head as he went. Walker watched him disappear with a victorious grin tugging at her lips.

“Hey, you ready, Koz?” she asked over her shoulder.

Her partner stifled a groan. She was stuck wearing the leaves-and-ribbons costume since she was the cheesecake to entice the guards. With the wide, fluttery pieces of fabric and the comically placed leaves, Eva looked like she’d just stepped out of a moonlit fairy wood. “This is humiliating,” Eva complained. She poked at one of the ribbons. “I can’t believe these are my ‘womanly wiles.’ At least I get to keep my blackjack hidden under this ridiculous greenery.”

Walker bit back a laugh. “You’ll do great. You look…uh…the part.”

Before Eva could retort, there was a sharp knock on the door. Walker opened it to reveal Diego, sporting a confident smile that faltered the moment he noticed not just one but two other men crowding him from behind. Skull and Boomer. The two of them may have been disguised as theatergoers, but there was nothing, not even the elegant clothes they wore that could hide their lethal quality.

Walker noted the subtle tension in Skull’s stance even as he stood impeccably dressed in a tailored tuxedo. To anyone else, he might have looked like the perfect gentleman, polished, poised, each line of the suit fitting his frame as though it had been built around him. But through Walker’s eyes, there was no mistaking the current of raw power coiling beneath the sleek fabric. The broad set of Skull’s shoulders, the surety in his posture were all small giveaways of someone accustomed to combat. The tux, with all its sexy elegance, could do little to soften the edge of a man who wore his warrior’s spirit like a second skin. Walker thought he looked unbreakable, carved from stone and given life, ready to dominate the battlefield, even if that battlefield happened to be a backstage dressing room.

Diego glowered, clearly not thrilled about the competition. “I was told you wished to see me,” he announced, all too pleased to fill the room with his own importance. His guards pressed in, but Strekoza jumped up and floated to them with a smile. “Hmm, such big muscles,” she said, her voice breathless. He looked at his boss who waved his hand at them.

“Wait outside.” Skull crossed his arms over his broad chest, wearing an expression that suggested he’d rather be anywhere else. Boomer, on the other hand, sidled in with a barely contained chuckle. He gave Eva a quick up-and-down glance, eyebrows shooting up at her costume—ribbons and leaves fluttering as she shifted her weight. He coughed, covering a grin.

Strekoza giggled and slipped her hand to one of Diego’s bodyguard’s biceps. “So, handsome, what did you think of my performance?” she asked as the door closed.

Diego stepped forward, entirely focused on Walker. “Perhaps, after the curtain falls, we might spend a night on the town together? Wine, dancing…anything your heart desires.” He leaned in, trying to take her hand.

Skull made a low sound in his throat. “I think she’s got other obligations,” he muttered. His eyes flicked to Walker with a blend of annoyance and something else that made her heart flutter.

Boomer just winked at Walker, clearly delighted by the tension. He looked like he’d brought popcorn to a well-anticipated showdown.

Walker locked her gaze on Diego. “Oh, I’m sure we can arrange a…private conversation.” She batted her eyelashes in a performance worthy of any stage. “In fact,” she purred, “why don’t we step out for some fresh air?” She opened the door, Strekoza still charming the guards as Diego nodded, all too eager.

He didn’t notice the slight tilt of Walker’s head signaling Strekoza. Within seconds, Strekoza and Walker had maneuvered Diego and his cartel guards toward a back corridor, far from the bustle of the intermission crowd. Skull and Boomer followed, close at hand.

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