Page 41 of Bound By Ruin

Excruciating at first, and then… slowly, things feel better.

It’s a drastic simplification of a long, drawn-out process that I’m sure is hell on the body and mind, but it’s something I can understand in my own way. “I want to understand,” I mutter to myself, peering around a large column near the hors d’oeuvres. My gaze travels up the massive column to find that the usual domed ceiling has been replaced with metal beams and countless lights spilling a hazy orange glow across the entire ballroom. Doors leading into adjacent ballrooms separate various events for the evening, the closest of them being an acrobatic show starting at midnight.

There are at least five hours before midnight, so I have plenty of time to wander… and avoid a certain man or two hunting me down.

“Celiaaa,” Rebel purrs in my earpiece, “you really shouldn’t run if you want me to take tonight seriously.” He chuckles, and another, deeper voice joins in, signaling that at least two of my men are enjoying the latest turn of events.

Playing hide and seek wasn’t part of our plan.

“That’s theoppositeof what you should do,” he continues. “I’m not gonna look for anyone but you now.”

Well, at least Rebel’s consistent.

One of his brothers scoffs, but I can’t tell which one.

“What about your dad?”

Rage cuts in. “Yes, Rebel, what about Dad, hm? Did you forget about the reason we’re fucking here?”

“Fuck ‘im.” Rebel laughs, the sound dancing across my ribs as I inhale. “But I’d rather fuck you, baby, so c’mere. I promise, we can go where no one will see us.”

I check the lock on a plain white door that blends into the wall, the label across it readingEMPLOYEES ONLY. It opens without a hitch, making my nerves skitter down my arms like skipping stones across a lake. I don’t break rules. I don’t trespass. I don’t do anything remotely out of line…

But it’s like I told the asshole at the blackjack table; tonight, I’m not a lady.

I’m the bait.

“We can’t,” I tell Rebel, careful to time pushing the door open as a wave of servers carrying drink trays passes by. I quickly slip through the crack and into the room ahead, temporarily blinded by the sudden shift from light to dark.

The room is pitch black aside from glow-in-the-dark gaffer tape outlining a path going straight, left, or right. I reach out to touch the wall in front of me, but my hand falls through the open air. I wave my arms around, looking for a wall or a light switch, and find none. This section of the room must be open, then. But how do I turn on the lights?

“Oral, then,” Rebel continues, the clink of metal coins in the background letting me know that he’s near the slot machines. “Unless you were hoping for my knife?” He groans loudly. “Fuck, baby, please tell me that you want the knife. Iknowyou do. Ruin said?—”

“We know what he said,” Rage growls, “so stop fucking around.Krosotka, you shouldn’t be alone.”

“The plan was to let me wander around in between our dates so that I would be vulnerable to ambush.” Rage can’t be angry that I’m sticking to the plan we strategically laid out in case his father showed up tonight. “I’m just sticking to protocol.”

“Fuck the protocol.” Rage exhales harshly, crackling his mic. “I’m coming to get you.”

“You don’t have a knife,” I point out, taking careful steps down a strip of glow-in-the-dark tape. “Do you, Rage?”

Another deep chuckle rumbles in my ear. I can almost hear it in the air around me, filling the empty shadows. My fingertips brush against a thick rope dangling from up above, the spiraling threads woven tightly and smooth to the touch. I’ve never been to the circus or any of the traveling shows that roll through the city, so I don’t actually know how acrobats swing through the air, if at all. What could the rope be for?

I squint in the dark, but I can barely make out shapes five feet in front of me, let alone up in the air. Shuffling forward, I stumble as my heel catches on a cord, and I tumble into a set of cold metal bars.

Blue and purple lights click on overhead, but only in the highest peaks of the room, bathing the ground floor in pale, silvery light. I lift one of my heels and twist it in the light, watching the starburst shimmers with a smile on my lips. The deep reds of my dress soften into a dusty magenta, each sparkling dewdrop casting a faint glow around my body.

I’m impossible to miss in a room full of shadows.

…and I’m alone.I think.

But then who turned on the lights?

A figure steps out from the shadows across the room, walking into the false moonlight to reveal himself. I hold my breath as the man comes into focus, my heartbeat fluttering beneath my ribs. “Rage,” I breathe, reaching for the knife hidden beneath my skirt, “I’m—I’m not alone.”

“What? Where are you?”

The man lifts a finger to his lips, and it’s only then that I catch the discoloration on his hands—ones that I’ve come to know very intimately over the past few weeks. “I’m okay,” I assure Rage, adrenaline tripping through my system. “I promise.” Reaching up to my ear, I click off my comms and stare at my masked man—only tonight, he isn’t hiding.

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