Page 22 of The Devil's Thorn
She didn’t pretend to be anything. And that, more than anything, was the tell.
People pretending always show you something.
She showed me nothing.
Her body language was carefully restrained—shoulders relaxed, chin neutral, hands placed lightly on her lap. But there was something about her eyes. Something precise. Purposeful.
She didn’t just look.
Shescanned.
Every shadow. Every surface. Every move Nikolai made.
She didn’t smile once. She didn’t need to.
Because even in silence, she spoke fluently.
I leaned closer to the screen, letting the video play at half speed. Her gaze dipped slightly when Nikolai first mentioned my name. A flicker. Almost imperceptible.
But it was there.
Not surprise. Not fear.
Recognition.
She knows of me.
That wasn’t unexpected—everyone in this world knows who I am.
But the way her pupils narrowed, the subtle shift in her breathing, the faint tension in her throat—those were signs of somethingmore.
Not curiosity. Not respect.
Familiarity.
I paused the screen.
Her face stared back at me, frozen mid-breath. Soft mouth. Calculated stillness. Eyes that didn’t look at the camera—eyes that lookedthroughit.
The kind of stare you only learn when you’ve had to survive things no one should survive.
A slow breath filled my chest. Heavy. Controlled.
There was no question now. She wasn’t just another girl looking for proximity to money and power. She wasn’t here for tips or promotion or status.
She was here forsomething.
And I wanted to know what.
More than that—I wanted to see what she’d do when she realized I’d already chosen her.
Not as a lover.
Not as a threat.
As a puzzle.
And I don’t leave puzzles unsolved.
