Page 102 of Hunted

Lewis scowled. “Hurry the fuck up then. I’d rather not get my Oxfords messy this early in the evening.” He jerked his head sharply. “Up the hall. First door on the right. Don’t take too long, kitty-cat.”

Randall begrudgingly relinquished my arms, albeit with an added shove, and I stumbled forward on my red-soles. Just as I reached the bathroom door, Lewis’ chilling voice crept down my spine once more.

“And you’d better come out of there unwrapped, Katarina. I’d hate to ruin that pretty red bow you’ve got on for me.”

My breath hitched as I locked the door behind me, leaning against the white wooden panelling, trying to stall my panic. I was in so fucking far over my head. But if I didn’t do this, then it was more than my future on the line. The boys were as much Varco’s pawns as I was.

I took two clacking steps to the basin and turned the faucet on—for what purpose, I didn’t know. I couldn’t splash my face. It would ruin Pyotr’s makeup.

“I can’t see you, but I can hear you. And I know you can hear me.” Beck’s deep voice rumbled in my left ear. My lip wobbled in response. “You can do this, Adelaide. You’re my Ice Queen, Dek’s Deadly, and Van’s Pretty Girl even if he hasn’t said it to your conscious face.”

I huffed a short, quiet laugh, wondering about all the things Van had waited to admit till I was snoring.

“So freeze that too-big heart of yours. Frost those veins. Don that mask. And go do what needs to be done. Dek and I are on our way up to you right now in case things go sideways.”

“They’ve already gone sideways,” I whispered. “It should have just been Lewis. Just one man. Now there’s four and I—I don’t know if I can⁠—”

“You can. We trained you.”

“You’re the girl who carried Beck’s hefty ass out on her shoulders not too long ago,” Dek said. “This is child’s play in comparison.”

I allowed myself a smile—my gaze snagging on blood-red lips curved up in the mirror, on the face of someone I didn’t recognise. But maybe that was good. Maybe I could pretend to be her. Someone else. Someone who had the tenacity to pull this off.

“Okay,” I whispered back, reaching for the zipper between my shoulder blades. “I wish you were here to help me out of this dress though, Beck.”

A cough came through the line, swiftly followed by a deprecating chuckle.

“Next time, babygirl,” Beck whispered, barely loud enough for me to hear. “I’ll be with you soon, okay? Just get the job done, then we can all go home, and I will personally see to your dressing and undressing needs,” he murmured, inciting a moan—on more than just my part.

The fact that either Dek or Van also found the thought of that scenario hot sent a shiver down my body and gave me something to look forward to. Resolve warmed me as I finally stepped out of the gown, letting it slide to the floor, looking eerily like a puddle of fresh blood.

Clad in nothing but that pair of lacy black panties, a matching strapless bra, and my new favourite classic red-soles, I plucked my crimson velvet clutch off the floor from where I’d discarded it a few minutes ago. There wasn’t much inside it—just some cash, a utility knife, and a brand new, black, rectangular vial of lip gloss. And given I was currently lacking anywhere to hide the blade, I pulled out the gloss instead.

Killer Crimson 010. Whichever tech genius named it clearly had a sense of humour because the contents of this tube were decidedly lethal.

Uncapping the lid, I twisted its base and applied a thin, careful layer of poison to my lips. Absorbed through the skin, the toxin would paralyse my victim in three minutes flat—systematically shutting down all motor control, then all autonomic bodily processes like breathing and heartbeat. Said victim would be dead approximately three hundred seconds from the moment my lips touched theirs.

Tonight my kiss would kill.

My own were protected by the layer of protectant Pyotr had meticulously applied in an equally deadly shade earlier—but if the poison were to touch me anywhere else, all bets were off.

I shot myself one last steely glare, donned the mask as Beck instructed, then turned the faucet off and straightened my posture.

“Knock ‘em dead, Deadly.”

You got it, boss.

Sauntering out of the bathroom, scantily clad in lingerie and a venomous smile, I walked right up to Henry Lewis, reclining on the dark suede sofa, spread-legged and scowling. He and his buddies watched, fixated on my every step, ogling every inch of skin now laid bare for their benefit.

“That is decidedly not unwrapped, Katarina,” he growled.

I stopped, right between his Oxford-clad feet, angling my body the way I’d been taught. Even Marie would be proud at the smirk I provoked, from the man who only had a limited number left to give.

Swallowing the nausea and ignoring the way his eyes darkened, I tried my luck. “You’re right. I thought you could help me out of the rest,” I said slowly. Suggestively.

Lewis spread his legs even wider, showing off his pitched trouser-tent with pride. He ignored the sniggers of his friends, beckoning what’s-his-face over.

“Chase, come help our girl out, would you?”