Page 7 of Iron Heart

“I see,” Dean replies, a trace of disdain in his voice.His expression changes, though, as curiosity takes over.“We looked you up, you know.Your background.It’s pretty impressive, to say the least.Medals, commendations… but what happened with your team?They say everyone died but you.”

I stiffen at the question, memories I’ve long tried to suppress threatening to surface.I didn’t expect my past to be a topic of conversation, and I certainly don’t want to dwell on it now.

“That’s behind me,” I say curtly, not wishing to elaborate.

“But surely you can tell us a bit more,” Colin chimes in, clearly in awe of my credentials.“I mean, you were a hero.Your medals prove that.Why leave it all behind?”

I look at the two of them, seeing the genuine interest in their eyes but also recognizing that some stories are better left untold, buried in the past.

“I did what I had to do.Now I’m here, doing this job,” I respond, my voice firm.

Thankfully, they seem to take the hint, falling into a respectful silence.

My past is something I’ve moved on from, but their questions have a way of bringing it all back.The medals mean nothing when weighed against the loss and the choices I had to make.Now, my focus is on the job at hand, protecting Victoria and ensuring her safety.

But the memories linger, a reminder of where I’ve been and what I have left behind.

4

Victoria

Hair and makeup have morphed me into a megastar that I barely recognize.

My hair is set in Hollywood curls, and I’m adorned in a red satin dress that perfectly accentuates my natural curves.With my chalk-white skin and red lips, I bear a striking resemblance to Jessica Rabbit.I like this version of me.This brand, this persona that has been crafted for me, is something I’ve grown to embrace.My record label and an exceptional team of stylists have sculpted me into a jazzy, soulful artist who embodies the essence of a sexy siren.

Everyone has left my room, and I have just about two minutes before I need to go on stage.I take some calming breaths to settle my normal jitters before performing in front of thousands.I’ve been here before and learned to use my nerves to my advantage, but lately, it hasn’t been working all too well, and they have been getting the best of me.

Closing my eyes, I revel in the fantasy.I imagine myself singing in front of tens of thousands of fans, feeling the rush of excitement and contentment as if it’s what I was born to do.The screaming fans are all there for me, chanting my name.But then, something in the fantasy shifts.The screaming morphs into my own cries, and I see a different image entirely.It’s me, but in the reflection of my own eyes after being abducted and rescued.My face is streaked with blood, my wrists red and raw from their restraints.

“No!”I yell out, my eyes snapping open, blazing with fear while I try to push the terrible memory away.

Immediately, the door to my dressing room swings open, and there stands Kingsley, concern etched across his face.

“Is everything all right, Miss Slater?”Kingsley asks, his eyes quickly scanning the room, assessing for any possible threats.

I feel a blush of embarrassment coloring my cheeks.“Yes… yes… I’m fine,” I stammer, trying to regain my composure.

His eyes linger on me for a moment longer, seeming to see right through my flimsy excuse.But then he nods, accepting my explanation.“I’ll be right outside,” he assures me, starting to turn away.

“Wait,” I call after him, a sudden impulse taking over me.“Aren’t you going to wish me good luck?”

He pauses, his eyes returning to mine, a hint of amusement in his gaze.“Luck is for the ill-prepared, and you areveryprepared,” he says, his eyes roaming over my body in a way that sends a thrill of anticipation through me.

I don’t know why, but something propels me to approach him.Maybe because I need to forget about the image that plagues me.Nevertheless, I find myself strutting toward him, my hips swinging flirtatiously.

A part of me wants to provoke him, to misbehave right in front of him.I want to challenge him, to see how far I can push this dominating side of him.Not many people dare to speak to me that way, and it’s different.I find myself drawn to it, ready to engage with this new dynamic.

I stop just a breath away from him, our eyes locking, the air between us charged with tension.Dark brown eyes stare down at me, and it’s a daring game, a battle of wills, and neither of us is backing down.

“I hope you’re ready for tonight’s performance,” I say, my voice dripping with feigned innocence, my eyes never leaving his.

“Miss Slater, I am ready for any and all eventualities.”His response is a slow, knowing smile, and I realize that the game is on.

He’s up to the challenge, and so am I.

Let the show begin.

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