Page 1 of Beautiful Ruins
1
Raze
Water dripped somewhere in the dark, slow and steady, like the building itself was bleeding out.The concrete floor was uneven, cracked in places, slick with damp that had no business existing this far underground.I took one careful step, then another, watching my boots more than the men waiting for me.
Italian leather didn’t deserve this kind of abuse.
If I scuffed them for this deal, someone was going to lose a kneecap.
The space had once been part of an old factory—manufacturing something harmless; buttons, if my memory serves me.Now it was stripped down to bare bones and shadows, with rusted support beams and crates stacked haphazardly like they’d been dropped and forgotten.
The men across from me were Bratva.Five of them, packed into thick coats that didn’t quite hide the guns beneath them.Their thick accents weighed down every word, and their eyes never stopped moving as they surveyed their surroundings for threats.Paranoid bastards.I would be too, if I were meeting with me.They were armed, badly trained, and sweating through their collars.It felt like this meeting mattered more to them than it did to me.Which meant it probably did.
“You bring what you promised?”The leader inquired.The scar through his eyebrow gave his face a permanent scowl, and his hand hovered at his gun like it needed reassurance.With fingers that jittery, he’d probably put a bullet in his own thigh before I gave him a reason to use it.
I nodded once.
The case snapped open at my feet.Inside was order in a place that rarely deserved it—compact charges fitted snugly, the wiring color-coded and fancy, detonators secured and ready.Clean.Beautiful in a way only precision could be.
Art.
The Bratva leader leaned closer, eyes lighting up despite himself.
“Military grade?”he probed.
I nodded once, wordless, but my eyes obviously held all the answers he needed.
The grin split his face, slow and greedy.“You enjoy this.”
I lifted one shoulder, shrugging easily.“Some people paint.Some people cook.I like things that goboom.”
A few of his men chuckled, the sound thin and unsure.The one in front didn’t join in.His gaze never left my hands, tracking every small movement like he expected me to explode out of sheer enthusiasm.
We were mid-negotiation when I heard a sound that didn’t belong to either side.
Neither, I realized, did it belong to the rats that claimed this basement as their kingdom.
It was too pronounced.A soft scrape, like metal kissing metal, even though it seemed like someone was trying very hard not to be heard.
I went still, my body coiling with tension.
So did my men.Their shoulders tightened, hands drifting lower, closer to their weapons.The air in the room changed, thickening, sharpening.It always did in that split second before violence stepped out of the shadows and decided who it liked.
Then the interruption came again.But this time, it was so much more.
It was a short breath.Shallow, regular, and definitely human.
And so wrong in this scenario.
I didn’t wait for confirmation.Nor did I give anyone time to speak or reach for their weapon or panic.
I moved.One moment I was standing by the case.The next, I was gone.
I crossed the space in two long strides, any concern for my leather boots abandoned as they sloshed through the water pooling across the concrete.Expensive, yes.Replaceable, also yes.
I didn’t stop to think.Thinking was slower.Instinct took over, quick and ugly and entirely familiar.The stacked crates along the wall rose out of the darkness.I kicked one aside without ceremony and reached into the narrow gap behind it, my fingers closing on fabric and flesh at the same time—soft where it mattered, solid where it counted.
Whoever was hiding there sucked in a sharp breath, like they’d been foolish enough to believe the shadows would protect them, before they let out a yelp.
