Page 24 of The Devil's Thorn
Maybe I wanted to unravel her.
CHAPTER 3
ISABELLA
The uniform feels like a lie against my skin.
It clings in all the right places, black fabric sleek and tailored, the kind of luxury that masks control beneath glamour. The skirt falls mid-thigh, subtle slit on one side. Not enough to be obvious, but enough to keep eyes lingering longer than they should.
The blouse is fitted, high collar with silver buttons, sleeveless, pressed so perfectly it looks like I’ve never sweated a day in my life. They paired it with a thin waist belt and polished heels just shy of torturous. A small name tag pinned to the left reads: Natasha.
I stare at myself in the full-length mirror, fingers curled slightly at my sides.
Dark brown hair pulled into a clean, low bun. Light brown eyes rimmed with just enough liner to cut, lips painted in a neutral gloss that looks expensive.
Everything about me screams poised. Controlled.
Forgettable enough to slip through.
Beautiful enough to stay in the room.
They made this uniform for ghosts.
Behind me, Kellan exhales loudly from the couch.
“I still say we bring a knife. Something small. You know, just in case one of those sick bastards forgets his manners.”
Ash, leaning against the wall near the window, snorts. “Or better yet, let her bring the same rifle she didn’t use the other night. That’ll make a statement.”
I glance over my shoulder at them, eyebrow lifting. “Are you two done?”
Kellan shrugs, sipping something dark from a crystal glass that isn’t his. “Not even close.”
Ash crosses his arms. “You know the security team will try something.”
“And I know how to end it before they do.”
Kellan watches me carefully. “You don’t have to prove anything, Iz. You could let us do this another way.”
“No,” I say, firm. “I walk in. I watch. I get what I came for.”
My voice doesn’t shake. It never does when I speak the truth.
But the truth still coils in my chest like something wild and hungry.
Because tonight… I’ll be close enough to smell him.
And I still don’t know what I’ll do when I see his face.
I turn back to the mirror, fingers brushing the edge of my collar, adjusting it just enough to stop fidgeting. It’s not nerves—it’s instinct. Preparing for war disguised as service.
“You look…” Kellan starts, then pauses, as if finding the word makes it more real. “Dangerous.”
Ash lets out a quiet laugh behind me. “They won’t know what hit them.”
I glance at both of them through the mirror, and for a moment, my expression softens.
“How do I really look?” I ask.
