Kian
The girl doesn’t take her eyes off me as I lock the door behind me. Her hands ball into fists as though she’s poised for a fight.
As tiny and frail as she looks, I can’t just assume she’s not dangerous. It’s the fear in her amber eyes. Fear like a cornered animal. And I know from experience that sometimes, cornered animals are the most dangerous.
I’ll admit, the girl has thrown a spanner into my plan. I’d counted on finding Drago here alone. Or, failing that, to be shooting the shit with any accomplices still surviving.
The girl complicates matters.
Doesn’t mean I won’t kill her if I have to. But “have to” all depends on her.
“If you cooperate, then I won’t have to hurt you,” I tell her.
She flinches strangely at the sound of my voice. The reaction puzzles me, but I brush it off. I don’t have time to try and decipher her every move.
I frown. “Who are you?” I ask.
It’s sheer curiosity that drives me to answer the question. It really shouldn’t matter who she is.
But the curiosity only increases when she bites down on her lower lip and refuses to answer. There’s something about her nagging in the back of my mind. Something almost… familiar.
But there’s no way I’ve ever seen her before. I’d remember someone as beautiful as her. Even if she does seem so fucking young. Her sharp nose and high cheekbones are almost harsh, gaunt. Or at least, they would be, if it weren’t for the big brown eyes and plump lips to soften them.
She looks down, clearly uncomfortable with my scrutiny. But it’s almost like she has a secret to hide, too.
“I’ll ask one more time,” I rumble. “Who are you?”
She keeps her head down, but she looks up at me through her eyelashes. “What do you care?” she demands in a voice that’s low but fiery.
Well, well. The little vixen has spirit.
I shrug. “I suppose I don’t. But I’ve always been a curious motherfucker.”
“At least you got the ‘motherfucker’ part right.”
I raise my eyebrows in surprise, but I’m unable to keep the smile from my lips. “I guess my reputation precedes me.”
She stands her ground and lifts her face up a little. I don’t miss the way her eyes dart from side to side. As though she’s waiting for someone else to appear. Or else she’s hiding something. Maybe both.
“So can I assume you know who I am?” I press.
She glowers at me. “I’ve known you my whole life,” she hisses.
I frown, trying to figure out what that means. Nothing about this midnight house call is going the way I expected thus far.
There’s an almost intimate quality in the way she says that. I’ve known you my whole life. Almost makes me shudder with an eerie sense of recognition. Ma used to call that “a ghost passing through you.” That’s how it feels. Otherworldly.
“Your whole life, eh?” I ask, refusing to be affected by her or the weird feelings sweeping through me every time I catch those eyes raging at me.
Or rather, I’m trying not to be affected. But the fact that I’m still standing here talking to her instead of doing what I came here to do proves that I’m not exactly succeeding in that regard.
“My entire fucking life,” she seethes. “I know exactly who you are.”
“Doesn’t sound like there’s a lot of love lost here.”
“I wouldn’t exactly say that, no.”
I shrug. “Well, whatever it is that got you all pissed off, my sincerest apologies. It was nothing personal.”