Chapter 8

Maya's POV

Center of the dance floor. Tall and elegant in a charcoal-grey three-piece suit. A black silk top hat tilted at a rakish angle. One hand resting on the waist of a young woman in a silver gown, the other holding her hand in a perfect waltz position.

They moved together with fluid grace. A picture of old-world elegance.

Except in the mirror behind them, only the woman's reflection danced. Her partner—Victor Krauss—existed only in the physical world.

And as I watched, he lowered his head to her throat. Pressed his lips to her pulse point.

She didn't scream. Didn't fight. Just swayed in his arms, eyes glazed with the dreamy confusion of someone under heavy compulsion.

Two small puncture wounds marked her neck. Blood trickled down her collarbone, dark against her pale skin.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

I drew the tactical knife. Flicked the activation switch. Felt the liquid silver reservoir pressurize with a soft hiss.

"All units, target acquired. Center of the dance floor. Move in, but keep it contained. We can't let him reach the exits."

I started forward. The crowd parted instinctively, sensing danger even if they couldn't name it.

Victor raised his head. Looked directly at me.

And smiled.

Even across the distance, even through the chaos of panicking guests and flashing cameras, I saw it clearly. That smile. Sharp and knowing and absolutely delighted.

His lips moved. Shaped words I couldn't hear over the rising screams.

But I didn't need to hear them. I could read lips well enough.

Hello.

Then he released his dance partner. She crumpled to the floor like a puppet with cut strings. Blood still flowing from her throat.

And Victor vanished.

Not fled. Not ran. Just... disappeared. One moment standing in plain sight, the next moment gone as if he'd never existed.

"Where is he?" Logan's voice crackled in my ear. "Maya, I lost visual—"

"He's still here." I spun in a slow circle, knife raised, every sense straining. "He has to be. The exits are sealed."

Raven snarled in my mind. Behind. BEHIND!

I whirled. Slashed with the knife.

Felt the blade connect with something solid. Heard a sharp intake of breath.

Victor materialized three feet away, one hand pressed to his ribs where my knife had scored a shallow cut. His suit jacket hung open, revealing a spreading crimson stain on his white shirt.

"Fast," he said. His voice was cultured. Amused. Like we were discussing the weather instead of trying to kill each other. "But not quite fast enough."

I lunged. He sidestepped with inhuman grace. My blade whistled through empty air.

"You know," he continued, moving backward across the dance floor with the same elegant steps he'd used while waltzing, "I've been looking forward to this. Our first dance."

"This isn't a dance." I feinted left, struck right. He blocked with his forearm. The impact sent shockwaves up my arm. "This is an execution."

"Is it?" His smile widened. Those red eyes gleamed with something that might have been amusement or madness or both. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're enjoying yourself."

He wasn't wrong.

My heart pounded. Adrenaline sang through my veins. Every muscle coiled with predatory focus. This was what I'd been made for. What I'd trained for. What I lived for.

The hunt. The fight. The perfect clarity of kill-or-be-killed.

And underneath it all, Raven's presence—not fighting me for once, but with me. Moving in sync. Lending me her strength and speed and savage joy.

This, she whispered. This is right. This is what we're meant to be.

I showed my teeth. "You're going to die tonight, Victor."

"Maybe." He caught my wrist mid-strike. Twisted. I felt bones grind together. "But so might you. Isn't that exciting?"

He pulled me close. Too close. Close enough that I could smell him—smoke and old books and something darker, sweeter, wrong.

Close enough that Raven screamed in recognition.

MATE!

I drove my knee into his stomach. He grunted. Released me. Staggered back.

I pressed the advantage. Slashed at his throat. He blocked. Slashed at his heart. He dodged. Every strike perfect. Every movement calculated.

And he was laughing.

Actually laughing as I tried to kill him.

"You're magnificent," he said. Caught my blade between his palms. Blood welled where the edge cut into his skin. "Do you know that? Absolutely magnificent."

"Shut up." I yanked the knife free. Spun. Went for his kidneys.

He twisted away. Grabbed a chair. Threw it at me.

I cut it in half mid-flight. The pieces clattered to the floor.

We circled each other. Two apex predators in a room full of screaming prey. The humans had fled to the edges of the ballroom, pressing against the walls, trampling each other in their panic.

I didn't care. Didn't even register them.

All I saw was Victor. All I felt was the knife in my hand and Raven's presence in my mind and the perfect, terrible rightness of this moment.

"Last chance," I said. "Surrender, and I'll make it quick."

"No." His smile turned sharp. Dangerous. "I don't think I will."

He moved.

Faster than before. Faster than should have been possible.

One moment twenty feet away. The next moment on me. Hand locked around my throat. Slamming me backward into one of the mirror walls.

Glass shattered. Rained down around us in glittering shards.

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. His grip was iron. Unbreakable.

He leaned in. Pressed his lips to my ear.

"I've been waiting for you to come find me," he whispered. "That day at the docks, when you shot at me... the killing intent in your eyes... beautiful."

I drove the knife into his side. Felt it punch through muscle. Hit bone.

He gasped. But didn't let go.

"Just like that," he breathed. "God, Maya. Only you. Only you can make me feel this."

What the fuck is wrong with him?

I twisted the knife. Activated the liquid silver injection.

He screamed.

Finally—finally—he let go.

I dropped to the floor. Gasped for air. Tasted blood—mine or his, I couldn't tell.

Victor staggered backward. One hand pressed to his side where silver burned through his system. The wound smoked. Sizzled. His face contorted with pain.

But he was still smiling.

"Until next time," he said.

And turned to run.

Like hell.