Nikhael had been one of Severin's most trusted men for years. He had studied Severin long enough to memorize his habits, temperament, pet peeves, and the way he dealt with problems—always cruel, always without a shred of conscience. But something didn't feel right.
First of all, Severin had let Isolde live.
This wasn't the first time Lucien had sent someone to infiltrate their inner circle—men or women, it didn't matter. They all ended the same way: dead, usually before they had a chance to defend themselves or even switch sides.
One pull of the trigger, and it was over.
But Isolde was still alive. Sure, Liraine had threatened to kill herself—but it wasn't the first time Liraine had pulled that card. Every time something didn't go her way, she risked her own life. Severin had never once fallen for it—not even the time Liraine slit her own throat right in front of him.
He would have her locked away, like always, and send Malric to patch her up if she hurt herself. But Isolde lived.
She was the only one of Lucien's pawns Severin had ever allowed to keep breathing. Even more baffling, her method of infiltration had been the most obvious, the cheapest, and most staged tactic Lucien had ever pulled—designed to get her "caught" from the very beginning.
Lucien had tried to plant his people inside Severin's network many times, and his tactics were usually clever, never this sloppy.
Letting Isolde in as a backup dancer, parading her face—the spitting image of the late Renata—in front of everyone.
Not every worker in this pleasure house knew Renata. She'd died years ago, long before many of the dancers, whores, bartenders, or staff had ever set foot in this place. But anyone who'd worked here long enough under Severin would recognize that face instantly.
Nikhael certainly had. He remembered the first time he saw Isolde—how she'd deliberately thrown herself into his arms to steal his access card from his pocket. He'd noticed immediately how much she resembled Renata. But he let her take the card anyway, walking straight to Severin to report what he'd just witnessed.
Nikhael assumed she'd be killed immediately. But Isolde was still here. Still breathing. Still roaming the halls like she belonged.
Some believed Severin kept her alive because she looked like his dead lover. But in Nikhael's experience—as someone who had closely observed Severin over the years—that was the least likely reason of all.
If anything, the fact that she looked like Renata should've signed her death warrant the second Severin laid eyes on her.
Severin didn't tolerate weakness. When Renata had become his weakness, and people began targeting her to get to him, Severin killed her with his own hands.
Better to die by Severin's hand than by the enemy's. Liraine was a weakness, too. Nikhael had heard Severin say more than once that it would be better if she were dead—no more whining, no one left to use her as leverage against him.
But Nikhael had gotten on his knees and begged Severin not to kill her. He'd confessed his feelings for Liraine and swore his loyalty, swore he would keep her locked away, safe, and out of reach from anyone who might want to use her to hurt Severin.
Nikhael knew that life meant little to Severin, even the life of someone he loved.
Which was precisely why Nikhael kept wondering: why had Severin let Isolde live? He should've killed her before she became a bigger problem.
Second, while it wasn't unusual for Severin to sleep with the women who worked in the brothel, what was remarkable was seeing him upstairs, sitting and watching the striptease performances, instead of staying in his office, like he usually did.
Usually, Severin kept busy in his office, calling on Nikhael when needed or summoning Tiffara when he wanted some entertainment. He didn't waste time watching the workers under his command dance erotically for other men.
Third, Severin had trouble sleeping. Nikhael had watched him long enough to know that. The slightest noise could wake him, and whenever he was startled awake, his hand would immediately go for the gun strapped to his waist.
Living with so many enemies had made Severin hypersensitive to everything around him, even in sleep. And he never slept more than two hours at a time. Nikhael had counted himself: Severin was chronically sleep-deprived, which only worsened his already foul temper.
Usually, Severin would nap for two hours, more precisely, one hour and forty-five minutes in his office, right after relaxing his muscles with Tiffara.
But the night Severin slept with Isolde instead of Tiffara, he stayed in his office afterward and slept for almost three hours. That had never happened before.
Fourth, Severin never spent the night with the women he slept with, not even Tiffara. He always returned to his office to sleep for that short, sharp hour and forty-five before getting back to work.
He always slept in his office. And it was always brief. But this morning, when Michael went to check the office as usual, expecting to find Severin in his chair, rubbing his temples after a poor night's sleep, he found it empty. Completely empty.
Nikhael asked the other men if Severin had left without informing him. But they told him Severin hadn't stepped out of Room 429 since last night.
That was... unlike him. Now Nikhael stood outside the door to Room 429, raising his hand to knock.
" Severin, are you inside?" Nikhael called out loudly enough for the voice to carry through the door. "I wanted to inform you that Mathias and Maxen have returned."
The door to Room 429 opened. Severin stepped out, buttoning his shirt.
"Tell them to meet me in my office," he said.
"They're already waiting there," Nikhael replied.
Severin paused mid-buttoning, glancing at Nikhael with an unreadable look. Nikhael had learned to understand Severin's patterns, but his thoughts and expressions remained a mystery.
"What time is it?"
"Seven a.m.," Nikhael replied.
For the first time, Nikhael saw his superior's eyes widen as if genuinely surprised by what Nikhael had just said. Nikhael raised his wrist to show Severin the time on his watch as proof.
Severin glanced briefly at the watch, said nothing, and brushed past Nikhael. He didn't bother closing the door to Room 429, so Nikhael caught a glimpse of Isolde inside, still asleep, still cuffed, still kneeling.
Nikhael didn't know whether Severin had been playing with her until sunrise… or if he had actually slept in the same room with her. The latter seemed impossible. Severin would never sleep in the same room as someone he knew had been sent by Lucien.
.
.
.
Mathias and Maxen exited Severin's office and made their way toward Nikhael with their usual sly grins. The twin brothers were also under Severin's command.
They used to work as couriers, running illegal drugs—originally under Corvin—before switching sides to work for Severin.
Even now, Nikhael still had trouble telling them apart. Their faces were perfectly identical, their height the same, and their hairstyles almost matching. The only difference was their dimples—Mathias had one on his left cheek, Maxen on his right.
"I've heard the news," Mathias said, slinging an arm over Nikhael's shoulder. "I hear Boss has a new toy."
Unlike the ever-serious Nikhael, these twins were always laid-back, all smiles, and rarely took anything too seriously. But during missions, they never failed. Their bullets and blades always found their mark.
If people called Nikhael the Shadow of. Severin, then the twins, were the Grim Reapers. They rarely stayed in the club; their job was simple—kill whoever. Severin wanted dead.
"We haven't been around in a while. Of course, we need a little fun," Maxen added. "And after hearing Boss got himself a new toy, we got curious. We pulled off the mission perfectly—surely we've earned the right to play with her a bit."
Nikhael brushed their arms off his shoulders. "Did you ask Boss for permission?"
Mathias and Maxen frowned, clearly confused. "Since when do we need permission to sleep with any of the whores in this place?" Mathias asked.
"Even Boss's favorite, Tiffara, if we wanted to fuck her until she passed out, we wouldn't need his permission."
Nikhael went silent. What they said was true. Severin never cared which of his subordinates slept with whom, not even when it came to the women he personally favored.
"She's just been used," Nikhael replied, giving an excuse. "She hasn't had time to rest."
"Then, at least let us see her face," Maxen said. "We're dying to know what Severin's new toy looks like."
Mathias nodded in agreement. Nikhael exhaled heavily—then reluctantly led them toward Room 429.
Let them see Isolde's face, Nikhael thought. They wouldn't be interested anyway. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing special about her.
Nikhael opened the door to Room 429 and allowed Mathias and Maxen to step inside, where Isolde sat with Liraine, who was tending to the wounds on her wrists, the raw marks left by the cuffs that had restricted her movement.
Isolde was still naked, her body barely covered by a blanket, when the three men entered. When Isolde looked up at them, Nikhael noticed her eyes widen. What was that? Was she afraid she was going to be passed around again?
Well… considering the last time Severin had finished with her, he had let his men use her. Maybe now Isolde thought Mathias and Maxen were here for the same reason.
But Nikhael's guess was completely off. Because when Isolde parted her lips, a hoarse voice came out.
"M-Max?" Nikhael quickly turned toward Maxen—who now also looked stunned.
"Isolde?" Mathias, on the other hand, smirked as he touched his chin. "Wow. I didn't expect our Boss's new toy to be my twin's ex-girlfriend."
Ex-girlfriend?
Isolde was Maxen's ex?
What a small fucking world.
…