22. Micah

Emerson and I leant over the railing of the domed tower of Variant Sanctorum, wind whistling in our ears as the sun sank low, spraying the city in a burnt orange glow. Our joint melancholy eclipsed the beautiful landscape, settling into our bones, as it usually did this time of year.

A resounding boom sent shockwaves vibrating across our landing. The heavy entrance door, once flapping wildly in the wind, came flying off its hinges, landing with a thud.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" Spencer screamed. The door had come within an inch from crashing into her face, and she'd retaliated by kicking it down. Crazy bitch.

Emerson giggled. "It's sacrilege to swear in a house of worship."

Spencer's eyes darted our way, narrowing into slits until they roamed past us, processing the steep drop to the city streets below.

Her face paled of all colour. "Get me out of here," she managed to breathe. I didn't need my ability to know panic was running thick through her veins.

Chuckling lightly, Emerson and I grabbed a wrist each, steering her through the doorless entrance and down the stairwell.

"Why'd you come up, Spence? I'm surprised you even came this far."

"You think I wanted to chase you morons up here?" she seethed behind me, twisting out of my grip. "Neither of you were answering your phone. What other choice did I have?"

"What happened?" Emerson asked from the rear as I pulled out my phone.

Skimming through the countless messages, my gut churned, hastening my descent by skipping every second step. "We have to leave. Now."

Spencer huffed. "Oh, so now she wants to rush."

"What the fuck is happening?" Emerson asked.

"It's sacrilege to swear in the house of religion, oh pious Meek."

"Spence. Start talking."

"Ava sent a message," Spencer said. "Something big is happening at Forbidden Garden, and they don't want the princess around to catch a whiff. They plan on relocating her tonight."

Emerson hummed. "Tan doesn't get back till late. The plan was fo—"

"Doesn't matter," I interrupted. "I'm not losing her. I made a promise." The potential danger loomed over my head like a noose. If they succeeded in taking her underground, we may never find her again.

"Well, are we going to break Psycho out first? As planned?"

I ran a hand down my face. "There's no time, we might miss her." I reached the bottom of the staircase and rounded on my sisters. "Which means it's up to us. Will you help me?"

Spencer slid down the last step, her face splitting into one of her most charming smiles. "I've already got a plan."

Emerson sent a wink over Spencer's shoulder. "Then let's fucking do this."

"Blasphemy!" Spencer gasped, holding a hand to her chest, as if her mouth wasn't as foul as the rest of ours.

I stepped between them and hooked an arm over each of their shoulders, leading to the hidden passageway to our underground Temple. "It's been a while since we were on a mission together."

Emerson leant into my side. "Definitely long overdue."

Spencer's smile grew wider, almost predatory. "I've been waiting for our killer band to regroup for so long. Wait ‘till you see what I have planned."

My lips curved higher. Knowing my sister, her plan was absolutely crazy and rash—exactly the way we like it.

Forbidden Garden was a hot mess,the interior drenched in various shades of pink (which wasn't completely horrid, in itself). More so, it was the overdramatic embellishments that gave it a tacky appearance: ostentatious chandeliers, plastic oversized plants and cheap furniture dominated the space.

Regardless of my harsh assessment, Forbidden Garden was bustling with irresistible enticement and sugary temptation.

I wore a lingerie one-piece in the design of a red rose, the green stem a thin piece of string replicating a thong. The flower embroidered over my front, with mini petals blooming to barely cover my nipples and centre. I'd airbrushed my skin, tattoos disguised beneath the pristine makeup, resulting in a sheen finish reflecting off the dimmed lights.

An external spare of desire was the only warning my Variant gave before a hard palm slapped against my butt cheek.

"Grab me another bourbon, Rose Petal, and I'll soothe that ache for you," said a gruff, masculine voice. He had platinum blonde hair that fell into his cold, dark brown eyes. He seemed familiar, though I was sure I'd never met him before.

My fingers twitched to return the favour. Instead I inclined my head and aimed for the bar, lined against the back of the theatre room. I spared a cursory glance to the elevated stage up front, two women provocatively dancing a well-rehearsed strip tease.

Ava mixed drinks behind the bar, tracking my approach. She didn't know who I was, curious eyes shifting over my stranger's face. She wore a full-length sheer gown, embroidered daisies perfectly situated over her most private areas.

Every female in Forbidden Garden, no matter their rank or position, was named after a flower, their attire displaying their alias for clientele simplicity and anonymity.

Ava was tall, with familiar midnight blue hair and recognisable facial structure. Her similarities with August threw me the first time I'd caught sight of her, the resemblance irrefutable. She didn't have any visible guards, however many Ludus members loitered the halls. Taking her would be a challenging feat, but one that would be satisfying when successful.

I leant over the bar, wearing an easy smile.

"Wait your turn, bitch," said a high-pitched voice from behind. I glanced over my shoulder to catch a woman with a stylish bob, wearing an outfit wholly consisting of draping jewels. She struggled to hide her aged skin beneath caked make-up, accompanied by gigantic eyelashes nearly as big as her ego.

She barked her order and placed a living, breathing chihuahua on the bar, its gigantic balls hanging so low they almost scraped the countertop.

Fucking unhygienic, much?

Ava wordlessly planted the drink in front of her, not meeting her eyes.

"You forgot something," I said. "Your manners for Daisy here." My gaze flicked to Ava, whose mouth was agape.

The woman sneered. "Mind your business, whore."

"Original. If you didn't notice, we're in a whorehouse."

She turned, full-bodied, her mouth twisting into a grimace. "I'll let you off this one time, since you"re new. But let me put this plainly for your stupid, slut brain. I'm Eden, the Mistress of Forbidden Garden, and paramour to Maximus."

"Not the only one, I bet."

Eden shoved my shoulders. "Watch your fucking mouth." After that, she was too busy chastising me to notice when I danced my fingers in the air to gain her dog's attention, who chased the movement.

With the perfect accuracy of coincidence, someone called Eden's name. As her head turned towards the call, her dog trotted forward, directly over her drink, saggy balls dipping low in her glass as it passed.

I tried and failed to hold in a chuckle. I thought I did well not to burst into hysterics on the spot. Eden's head snapped back to find her faithful chihuahua enjoying a good pat from me. The little fella deserved it.

Eden snatched him out of reach and cooed. "No, Franny. We don't associate ourselves with filth. You're lucky I have VIP guests to attend to," she said, grabbing her drink. As her parting back disappeared through the crowd, her head lowered to sip from her glass. I couldn't prevent my lips from lifting into a wide-toothed grin.

Ava stood frozen. She'd had a front-row seat to that whole shit show. I winked, then released another carefree giggle before disappearing myself.

I foundthe heavy-handed asshole on a chaise sofa facing the stage, a flower girl strewn over his lap as he licked chocolate syrup off her breasts.

Another male sat across from him, identical in physical appearance. Even with their alarming resemblance, they couldn't have had more conflicting auras.

The first was volatile and unpredictable; pale scruffy hair, expensive suit creased and sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Whereby his counterpart was the image of polished precision; black, vibrant hair impeccably slicked back, each button and stitch of his suit in perfect alignment. The only abnormality was the piece of thin silver dangling from his pierced ear. He ignored everyone and everything in the room, including the duo that canoodled across from him. He was rigid and unapproachable, difficult to read—even for me.

I placed the drink on the glass side table and turned to leave. Fucked if I was going to interrupt and ruin a girl's pay check. Before I could disappear, a fresh lick of fear danced down my spine. I sucked in a breath and contemplated my options.

To stay or leave?

A pained groan released from the mahogany-skinned woman wedged between his legs. He held a firm hand over her forehead, while the other lined her jaw, grip so tight he had her pinned, bruises sure to leave a mark.

"Lily, you're needed in the pink room," I said. At least it wasn't hard to guess her pseudonym.

Lily detangled herself and squeezed my hand, purple eyes flashing in gratitude.

Why am I such a pussy these days?

"All rooms are pink," he said, challenging my order. He knew I was full of shit.

I gave a timid smile. "She knows which one."

Lily nodded in reply as I ushered her away. I didn't get the chance to follow.

"Come here," he ordered. I stepped forward.

"Closer," he reprimanded, flicking his fingers until I was bent directly over him.

I knew what was coming, not that it helped. I could have blocked the advance and squished his hairy balls until he squealed like a pig. Unfortunately, a pitfall of the job was to stay in character, and I was ever the professional. Forcing my muscles not to react, I took the hit. He backhanded me so hard that I landed on my knees between his feet, the imprint of his slap ingrained into my fucking cheek.

"I'm glad you sent her away," he purred, nuzzling my hair out of my face. "She wasn't strong enough to handle me. You are, though, aren't you Rose Petal?"

I kept my eyes on the ground, knowing that's what he wanted.

My humiliation, my surrender, my pain.

"I like to give pain, so much pain. And my brother here, he likes to give pleasure," he continued to stroke my hair, whispering in a placating tone. "Once I've finished taking you apart, he'll put you back together again. Make you whole."

"I'm fully booked tonight."

His fingers tightened, my scalp screaming from the tension. "I will have you."

To alleviate the sting, I grasped his hand, ready to snap it the fuck off, then stiffened. My fingertips brushed against a small-circled brand raised on the inside of his wrist and an involuntary gasp escaped me at the unexpected find.

Out of nowhere, the polished brother opposite pinpointed his attention in our direction, the first and only time he'd pitched his interest towards anything. His stoic mask hardly cracked, dark brown eyes flat and hollow as they slithered over our position. He simply raised an eyebrow to his brother, whose fingers still remained in the roots of my hair.

In one glance, they held a full conversation without expressing a single word. The telepathic communication of siblings was all too familiar amid me and mine.

The violent sadist was a predictable beast, one I had conquered numerous times. Though the other was an intimidating monster all on his own, purely on the basis that I couldn't sense anything. Not because he was blocking me with his own Variant, but more that he was so unfeeling that he felt nothing. Nothing at all.

The pale-haired brute shoved me to the ground, his gaze never wavering from his brother's. "Fucking leave us."

I didn't give him a chance to reconsider, disappearing before either of them could break eye contact.

I had to find Emerson. The plan had changed.

Emerson was exactlywhere she was supposed to be, situated at the large, industrial kitchen sink.

She was disguised as a dishwasher boy, her female curves easily cloaked beneath her oversized mens' clothing. An additional apron was thrown on top and her long, sunkissed hair was wrapped tightly in a filthy chef's hat. Most impressive was her slumped posture and clumsy movements. She really did pass for a lanky teenager.

"Come here, boy, I have a job for you," I said. She nodded fervently, tripping over her own feet to keep up with my long strides.

We slipped into a shadowed alcove, Emerson leaning against the far wall. "What happened to your face?"

"I've got it sorted." She raised an eyebrow and I rolled my eyes. "Let's fast forward the plan, before I end up killing every single fucking person in this place."

She snickered, reaching into her pocket and raising the bag of Haze Dust. It was empty.

"You spiked the food already?"

"You'd be surprised how many of these morons come to a female brothel looking for something of the sausage variety," she huffed. "I'm never disguising myself as a boy again."

I pouted. "But Meek, you're so convincing."

"Well, due to that, there's a couple of bodies stashed in the back of the walk-in freezer, ‘cause they couldn't keep their hands to themselves."

"How many?"

"Enough that it will start to cause suspicion." Beeping sounded from her apron and Emerson fished out a kitchen timer that had clicked down to zero. "Lucky for us, the Haze Dust should be kicking in."

Familiar erotic music with a pounding base pulsated the air. Our eyes met, the mirror image of a sly smile stretching both our lips.

We weren't the only ones wanting to speed up the plan.