Severin walked in, wiping blood off his hands with a handkerchief. God knows who he'd just killed and whose corpse he'd handed off to Malric and that other freak, the one Isolde couldn't even remember the name of. She didn't know if he had a medical license as Malric did. Still, she'd never forget the way he looked at her, the way he said he wanted to dissect her eyes, those eyes he called beautiful without a flicker of guilt in his voice.
Severin sat down across from Corvin, and Isolde immediately reached for the bottle to pour his drink. He shot her a crooked smile, amused.
Yeah, she was pathetic. Quick to adapt, quicker to submit. But fuck pride, if grovelling kept her alive, she'd do it.
"Your ex-brother-in-law's at it again," Corvin said, voice laced with annoyance. "He shot one of my drug mules point-blank. That bastard's already cost me a shitload of money this month."
Severin raised an eyebrow and took a swig from the glass Isolde had poured. "And how the hell do you know it was Lucien?"
Isolde flinched slightly at the name. Lucien. The man who got her locked in this hellhole.
The same man she still clung to as her only reason to keep breathing just so she could look him in the eye and ask if he kept his damn promise. If he really set her mother free… or if it had all been a goddamn lie.
"Who else would be dumb enough to fuck with me and you?" Corvin muttered, pressing his cigar between his lips. "That old bastard's the only one with balls left. He's been like this ever since his sister died, and it's your damn fault, Severin. You killed her. Now he's obsessed with bringing you down."
Corvin patted his pockets for a lighter and came up empty. It could be left in the car, or it could have been dropped. Didn't matter.
Severin reached into his coat, pulled out a silver lighter engraved with a dragon, and tossed it onto the table.
Both men turned their eyes on Isolde. She didn't need to be told twice. She picked up the lighter, thumbed it open, and flicked the flame to life. She held it up to Corvin's cigar as he leaned forward, lighting it with a long, slow draw.
She was about to step away when Corvin yanked her down into his lap, making her stumble and land seated right on him.
"I knew her face looked familiar," he said, blowing a thick cloud of smoke right into her face. Isolde coughed, her lungs burning. "But now I remember. This bitch looks exactly like Lucien's dead sister."
He turned to Severin. "Did you hire her on purpose? Trying to bait Lucien with a ghost?"
Severin let out a low scoff. "Wrong. Lucien sent her here as a fucking spy. But I doubt he went through all the trouble of finding someone who looks this much like his sister to get her slaughtered. No, that old fuck has something else planned. I just haven't figured out what."
Corvin studied Isolde's eyes again, staring deep into them. "Aside from her bony frame, at least the woman's got beautiful eyes."
"Ivander once said he wanted to give you her eyes," Severin replied casually, as if Isolde wasn't even human, just another object they could trade, rip apart, and discard when she stopped being useful.
Corvin scoffed. "Her eyes are nice, sure. But I'm looking for something that matches my wife's. It was her eyes that made me fall in love with her in the first place. That fucking accident took them from me." He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "You remember what colour her eyes were, don't you? If you find something close, call me. I'll pay whatever price you name. I want her to see me again. So I can fall in love with those beautiful eyes over and over."
Severin nodded in agreement, eager to play middleman for a corneal donor, so long as there was profit in it.
"Even if you're not interested in her eyes," Severin added, "you can still fuck her. Or have her suck your cock, if that's what you're into. I won't charge you. Consider it a gift, my way of saying thanks for our partnership."
Isolde felt her chest tighten. That bastard. That piece of shit just handed her over for free, like she was garbage no one wanted to pay for. A leftover whore, passed around as a party favour.
She didn't know whether to feel relieved or insulted when Corvin shook his head and turned down the offer.
"I might be a bastard," Corvin said, puffing on his cigar, "and yeah, I produce illegal drugs and deal with assholes just as filthy as me, but I'm not the kind of man who fucks around on his wife. She's blind, and still, no woman tempts me. Sleeping with her is a thousand times more thrilling than screwing any of the whores in this brothel."
He loosened his grip on Isolde's waist, letting her slide off his lap. "For all my flaws, at least I've got one thing to be proud of loyalty."
"But that loyalty of yours makes you weak," Severin replied, his voice sour. "I'll never forget how fucked up you were when you heard about your wife's accident. Now you have to keep her hidden all the damn time because you know your enemies because just waiting for a chance to hurt her to pay you back for every evil thing you've done."
Corvin gave a slight nod. "I'll admit it's a pain in the ass. But having someone to go home to isn't as bad as I thought it'd be. And besides, I've still got a bit of conscience left, unlike you, Severin. Yours is long dead. You kill without blinking. No wonder out of the two of us, you're the one everyone wants dead."
He paused, then added with a smirk, "Especially Lucien and those fucking rats. They want to watch you burn because they know you're the biggest threat they've ever faced."
The corner of Severin's mouth twisted into a sneer. "Of course, they're afraid of me and desperate to get rid of me. I hold every filthy secret they've been hiding. They call me rotten because I refused to stand with them. But the truth is, they're just as rotten. They pretend to bust couriers while pocketing the seized product, only to resell it through their own channels. They exploit the poor, harvest their organs, and sell them to their high-society friends. They traffic women, girls, even, and do the exact same shit I do. The only difference is they hide behind their shiny fucking titles. They do it all in the dark."
Severin glanced toward Isolde, who'd been silently listening to every word exchanged between him and Corvin.
"Just like this girl's father. I dug into her background, and it turns out she's the daughter of a former prime minister candidate. Her daddy's name is on my list. I know all his secrets, his bastard daughter born from a whore, his monthly purchases of drugs seized by the cops, his backroom deals with those rat bastards to rig the vote count. Funny. All of that got exposed because his precious little daughter made one reckless mistake. And now, his eldest princess is right here… working as a whore."
He was clearly mocking her now. "From spoiled little rich girl to a street-level hooker nobody even wants to pay to fuck. How fucking pathetic."
"No one wants her at all?" Corvin quipped. "That's a shame. Isn't uselessness something you hate the most?"
Severin nodded slowly. "Exactly. Which is why I've been trying to figure out what the hell to do with her. I offered you her eyes, but you didn't want them. I offered you her cunt, and you turned that down too. So what the fuck am I supposed to do with her and that bony body of hers?"
His gaze swept over Isolde from head to toe, cold, calculating. The way he looked at her made it very clear: he was weighing all the twisted possibilities.
"Maybe I'll use her as a punching bag. Something to beat the boredom out of me. Tiffara's my favourite whore; she's the prettiest and the one who brings me the most profit. But I can't go too rough with her. She's valuable. Still too important for what I need her for."
Corvin chuckled darkly at that. "Just don't get too sadistic. She might die while you're fucking her. And I don't think screwing a corpse is your thing."
…