Lucius (Acquisition 4)

He meets my gaze again, and I swear he’s aged a few years since I first walked in. “Tell me, and do you have any cigarettes on you?”

“You know I quit.”

He stares.

I get up. “Come on. I stashed a pack at the top of the pantry. Sort of an ‘in case of emergency’ thing.”

“In that case, now’s the time.”

We get the cigs and walk out to the back porch. I pull off the wrapper and flick the lighter open. Just like riding a bike.

The first drag fills my lungs, and I remember why I loved smoking so much. The perfect burn. I pass it to Sin.

He takes a puff, then turns to me. “Tell me the plan. I’ll tell you if it’s shit.”

“My plans are never shit.”

A rifle cracks in the distance, and we settle in to hash it out. The two of us planning blood, murder, and sweet revenge—just like old times.

20

Evie

Keeping a steady hand is difficult when I feel I want to vomit or simply collapse to the floor and fold into the fetal position. But I draw my eyeliner on straight, making a wing on the corner and filling it in.

Simple strokes.

Step by step.

That’s the way I’m going to make it through tonight.

I don’t know what comes after, but I have no illusions about these people. I’m walking into a den of vipers. I could die there. That thought doesn’t hit me as hard as it should. Maybe because I’m more afraid of the alternative—joining them. I won’t do it, but I already know there are no choices for me in any of this. The Acquisition doesn’t bargain. It demands. Either you give in to those demands, or you’re crushed under the weight of hundreds of years of violence and malice.

Once my eyes are done, I finish the foundation and add little touches of sheen to my cheeks. Satisfied, I walk to my closet and pluck out the dress. It’s beautiful. Lace that clings and flows in all the right places. Looking the part they want me to play.

If I can fake it, then maybe I’ll survive and stay out of the Acquisition. That’s what I hope for, despite knowing they’ll never let me go.

For the millionth time, I regret coming back here. Taking Lucius down should’ve been simple—well, as simple as corporate sabotage can be. It’s been anything but.

I check myself in the mirror and add earrings and a simple sapphire necklace.

My foot aches, but I slide it into a red-bottomed heel. I still have Lucius’s tie. My blood is on it. I should’ve tossed it into the trash when I took it off the wound, but I didn’t. Instead, I’d stared at it for far too long, as if I could read my future there in the swirling fleur-de-lis stained crimson.

I take a deep breath and put on my mask. Not the one in the gilded box by the door, the one I’ll have to wear for the rest of the night, no matter what. Haughty and condescending—it’s the language of these people. They’ve grown accustomed to ruling and abusing anyone they consider beneath them, so the trick is to make sure they believe I’m at their level, or preferably, higher.

My mother told me about this arena, about what would happen when I married one of the Southern elite. “You never know, Evie dear, your husband may be in the running for Sovereign one day.” My mother’s voice echoes through me. She was a cold woman, one who eagerly took part in the Acquisition trials. She was so proud of Red when he was chosen to compete.

For some reason, I don’t idealize my parents, don’t even mourn them. They’re dead because of Lucius and his family, yet I feel … nothing. Nothing at all for them. I suppose it’s because they never tried to save me from the Acquisition penalty, never warned me my life was on the line. They played along willingly, despite what it meant for me.

I can’t dwell on them—other than adopting my mother’s icy mannerisms. I push my shoulders back and grab my black mask, then head down to the lobby. The elevator stops early, opening on the fifth floor.

When the elevator door opens, I back up. The man is wearing a black tux, his blond hair swept back in a neat style that reminds me of fascists and goose-steps. He must’ve planned this, catching me off guard on this floor so I’d go along with him.

“You look …” The man lets his gaze fall down my body, then back to my eyes. “Lovely.”

“I told you I don’t need an escort.” I straighten my spine and move to hit the button for the lobby again.

He grabs my arm in the same spot he’d bruised. “I didn’t ask.”

“I can’t imagine the Sovereign would appreciate your manhandling of me.”