Isolde rolled her eyes in annoyance as Maxen approached her again. She didn't need to talk to him, and nothing was left to say. Whatever they had was over a long time ago. To hell with the past.
"Isolde…" Max said softly, his expression sullen. Whether he was trying to win her sympathy by looking pitiful or he genuinely felt regret for what he'd done in the past, she didn't care.
Liraine, sitting beside Isolde, stood and stepped in front of Max to prevent him from getting closer.
"Leave her alone," she said firmly. "She had a rough night. Don't add to her problems this morning."
Maxen shot her a cold look. "I'm not here to make things worse. I just want to talk. We need to talk."
If Max hadn't remembered that the girl standing in his way was Severin's little sister, he might've shoved her aside hard enough to slam her head into the table.
"The problem is, Isolde doesn't want to talk to you," Liraine snapped back. "She doesn't feel safe around you."
Max ignored her. His eyes remained locked on Isolde, even as the short girl in front of him kept trying to jump to block his line of sight, failing miserably.
"Isolde... please, we need to talk. I swear, I'm not here to hurt you. Just this once—give me a chance to speak. I'm not asking for anything more. I just want us to talk."
Isolde didn't answer. She didn't even look at him. Liraine pushed on Max's chest, trying to get him to back off. He didn't budge, not even a little, despite her using all the strength she had.
Frustrated, Liraine punched his broad chest but only ended up hurting her hand.
"You don't even realize you're making things worse for her," she said in a low voice, barely above a whisper, but Maxen heard her.
"Isolde's already being targeted, harassed by the others here because of my brother. The more attention you give her, the more they'll hate her."
Maxen lifted his head and looked around and saw that Liraine was right. Every pair of eyes in the room was on them. Some stared with curiosity. Others with jealousy. Some... with pure venom.
His gaze finally landed on a woman sitting in the corner of the room, surrounded by a few of her friends. Tiffara.
Maxen knew her well. He and Mathias had both slept with her. She was one of the prized girls in this place. They'd even gone on a few missions together before.
The woman is known as Severin's favourite because of the profit she brought straight into his lap. Ah, now Maxen understands what Liraine meant.
This entire underworld Severin ruled had always seemed to revolve around Tiffara, like she was the axis it spun on. And then Isolde showed up, and everything shifted. Of course, that woman hated her. Of course, she did. And Maxen's impulsive behaviour would only make things worse.
He stepped back, not because he was giving up on talking to Isolde but because now wasn't the time. Not now. But he'd try again later. He would.
.
.
.
"Where did you meet that man?" Liraine asked in a hushed voice once she'd sat beside Isolde again.
"At a club," Isolde answered flatly. "It started as a one-night stand. But we kept running into each other. Eventually, we decided to become... a couple, I guess. I needed someone to run to. Someone to help me forget. And he was good at that with his ecstasy, his touch... he made everything disappear for a while."
Isolde turned to Liraine. This time, she asked, "How long has he worked for your brother?"
"Almost two years now. He used to be a courier under Corvin. You remember Corvin, right?" Isolde nodded silently, waiting for her to go on.
"Corvin and my brother worked together. Corvin manufactured the drugs, and Maxen ran for him. From what I remember, Maxen and his brother were caught during a delivery but Corvin refused to waste his time or money bailing out couriers. Too easy to replace."
"But my brother saw something in them. He saw their potential. Those two were brilliant with weapons." Liraine paused briefly as if trying to piece it all back together.
"At first, my brother only offered Mathias a place. But Mathias said he wouldn't join unless his twin came with him. So my brother went to Maxen straight into the prison to make him an offer. He'd get Maxen out... if Maxen agreed to work under his command."
"They hesitated at first. They knew the cost. Once you join my brother... there's no getting out."
"But within 24 hours... they said yes." Liraine reached for Isolde's hand and squeezed it tightly.
"You should stay away from Maxen. And Mathias, too. Tiffara already hates you because my brother chose to spend the night with you instead of her. If she sees those two getting close to you too... she'll fucking lose it."
"I'm not afraid of Tiffara," Isolde snapped, freeing her hand from Liraine's grip.
"You may not be afraid of her, but you know what she's capable of," Liraine said, her voice low and urgent. "She hasn't done anything yet because I've been glued to your side. But if there's ever a day I'm not around if my brother locks me away again like he usually does you're done, Isolde. Tiffara will jump at the chance to rip you apart, and no one here will lift a damn finger to stop her. Everyone in this place is on her side."
Isolde scoffed. "The worst she can do is beat me. She can't kill me without your brother's permission. Do you think I'm living comfortably here? Your brother tortures me every night. What difference does it make if Tiffara does it too? Pain is pain. Bruised, broken, crawling—I already know what that feels like."
Liraine fell silent. She couldn't argue because Isolde was right. Severin hurt her every single night. What difference would it make if it came from Tiffara, too?
Isolde closed her eyes for a moment. "I want to go back to the room. I'm getting dizzy from the way everyone keeps staring at me."
.
.
.
Isolde sat in front of the mirror. Just like every other night, she had to get ready. To dance. To perform with the others.
But tonight felt heavier. Because tonight, someone from her past who knew her was watching. Even if she stayed hidden in the back like always, he would see her.
It made her sick. The idea of dancing, of degrading herself by tempting Severin right in front of Max, the man who once loved her, made her want to tear her skin off.
Isolde shook her head. There was no time for shame. Not when death could come for her at any second.
The spotlight turned on. Colours pulsed with the beat of the music as she took her position and got ready to move.
Her eyes instinctively searched the crowd toward where Severin usually sat, drink in hand, watching like a king judging his pets.
But Severin wasn't there. Nikhael wasn't there either. Instead, her gaze caught something else. Someone else. Maxen.
He leans against the wall in the far corner of the room, drinks in his hand, and has his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Eyes locked on her. And his stare?
Sharp. Cold. Cutting into her like a blade.
One of Isolde's brows lifted. Was that Maxen… or his twin, Mathias?
She still couldn't tell the two of them apart. But the way he stared at her cold and sharp didn't match how Maxen had looked at her just hours ago, full of guilt and remorse. That stare? That had to be Mathias.
Isolde broke eye contact, letting her gaze sweep the room searching for Severin—but he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she spotted Nikhael sitting with Liraine, but no trace of Severin near them.
The front door opened. Isolde turned her head as her body spun around the pole. Standing there, framed in the doorway, was the man she knew was Maxen. How he looked at her differed from the one in the corner. His soft, apologetic eyes carried something heavier—something like… longing?
Isolde scoffed bitterly at herself. What a fucking joke. Longing? Really?
The music shifted. The other dancers began stepping off the stage, drifting toward the customers, sliding into laps, and grinding to the beat.
Isolde climbed down too but lingered at the side, watching as Tiffara made her way toward the man in the corner who'd been burning holes through Isolde all night. Mathias.
She watched Tiffara throw her arms around his neck like a possessive cat marking her territory.
But before Isolde could turn away, she felt a hand on her shoulder.
"You've got a client tonight." Her brows arched. A client?
That was new. Until now, no one had ever booked her. Was Tiffara done playing the game of making her look unwanted?
"Who is it?" Isolde asked.
"You don't get to ask questions," the man said flatly. "If someone books you for entertainment, you show up and entertain. That's your job. Don't make the client wait. You're not even dancing to attract anyone anyway, are you?" he added with a sneer, glancing at the other dancers as they laughed while men tucked bills between their breasts.
"Room 429?" Isolde asked. The man gave a curt nod.
Severin? Was it him? Had he been waiting for her all this time in that room? Is that why he hadn't shown his face since she stepped onstage?
Isolde stopped in front of door 429. When she opened it, her jaw clenched as she saw who was inside.
"Max?" Maxen rose from the couch.
"We need to talk."
…