Mina Day has to choose whether to kill The North mafia leader's son or marry him. Will she risk the dangers of assassinating him? Or will she fall into a loveless marriage and suffer in the hands of cold-hearted and ruthless Elias Romes?
Elias Romes...
Elias will be standing in the heart of the towering building, signing part of the business toward my father. From my vantage point on the rooftop, I peer through the scope of my rifle, imagining the bullet landing into his body, and the ease his death will relieve of me.
A shiver of anticipation over the alarms that will sound and how soon I will have to escape. Slowly, I slide my eyes down at the city below, humming with the noise of oblivious lives. Stiffly, Sol stands next to me, aware of the thoughts lacing my head as we share a dark look.
Tomorrow marks the day.
I lower the rifle by my side with a restless sigh, releasing its weight, and gradually alleviate the pressure on my thigh. The persistent ache, though somewhat subtly there, lingers like an insistent itch demanding attention. Restlessness has driven me to push my limits, engaging in relentless running and witnessing a gradual improvement in my stamina.
Despite all my efforts, that antidote remains like a spectre—unfound, elusive. We delved into every possibility, but answers slipped through our fingers like grains of sand. We figured that it was nothing of Earth's gardens, and man-made, specifically for me.
Suddenly, I wonder, as Elias is The East, where he might be and it sends streaks of shivers down my spine.
For my potential last day, we end up inside a dimly lit bar with the haziness of cigarettes lingering on the ceiling, concealing the lighting a little. The windows, coated with a ghostly white condensation, obscure the outside world, cocooning us away from the cold.
The lights above, a warm yellow, exude a mirthful glow. Sol and I share a glass of beer between us, a toast to the uncertainties of the future. My hair, for the first time in ever, is let down, spilling all over my shoulders in a warm brunette.
I sense the bartender's eyes on me, his gaze both watchful and tinged with an unmistakable hint of lust. His brown eyes follow my every move, and I become acutely aware of the subtle energy that permeates the air. Sol, sensing the unspoken tension, nudges me in the arm with a warm chuckle.
"He's cute, you know," she remarks with a playful glint in her eyes. "You might as well indulge in a night of passion before you're shackled to a marriage you didn't choose."
For a fleeting moment, a sombre shadow settles over my mood, an unwelcome reminder of the looming tomorrow that not even the comforting embrace of alcohol can fully conceal. Yet, as if in defiance of the impending darkness, my lips lift in a quirk of a smile.
"That marriage isn't stopping me from sleeping with anyone," I declare, the words carrying a tinge of defiance and perhaps a hint of recklessness.
Sol erupts into hearty laughter, a sound that reverberates through the bar and draws the curious glances of nearby people. Her glass slams onto the table with a force that nearly spills its contents, the frothy beer teetering dangerously close to the edge.
Laughter lines crease the corners of her eyes, and for a moment, the weight of the impending future is forgotten. "You are foul!" she exclaims loudly.
"One more set of beers, then we are done, and I will need to crash out for tomorrow," I declare with a loud sigh through the fits of laughter.
The bartender, seemingly unfazed by the abrupt change in my plans, sends a wink toward me. Moments later, a fresh set of beers graces the glossy counter, the frothy anticipation clinging to the rim of the glasses.
"I'm tired of being the lightweight, Mina. I mean, come on, this is our fifth set and you're barely drunk!" she says, shaking her head in mock exasperation.
"What's the point of alcohol if you're only mildly drunk?" I retort with a mischievous grin, raising my glass for a toast.
She meets it with a short clink.
Amidst the fading laughter and the hum of the bar, Sol declares to me, "Oh stars, I've had too much beer for tonight. I'll be back in a moment." Her chair scrapes against the floor as she stands, navigating through the dimly lit space with a purposeful stride.
She ventures to the toilets while my fingers trace the condensation on the side of my beer glass. Lifting up the half-drank glass, I quietly sip on my beer again, the froth clinging onto my bottom lip.
The loud clinking glasses and the low murmur of conversations weave through the air, creating a familiar rhythm that now accompanies my thoughts. The scent of smoke, once acrid against my nose when I first walked in, has mellowed down.
As the bartender's deep eyes fixate on me again, an unexpected pang of self-consciousness hits. Suddenly, I wish I had opted for a nice set of undergarments beneath my clothes.
I make a feeble attempt to conceal the hot flush spreading across my face by dipping my head, but it only seems to draw more heat to my cheeks.
Hastily, I wipe away the froth from my bottom lip with the sleeve of my garment, a subtle attempt to regain composure.
As I place my beer back onto the glossy counter, my gaze catches a familiar tattoo etched across a person's neck. A ripple of recognition and tension sweeps through the bar, prompting people to subtly shift out of the way as the figure passes, beers clutched in their hands.
The distinctive mark is an emblem of The North.
My stool scrapes loudly against the floor as I hastily gather my belongings, the intention to leave immediately shown in my movements. However, the urgency is tempered by the sudden exchange of hushed conversation among Elias's men. I pause, my breath catching, as the silent murmurs reach my ears.
"—poison down her throat," one of them says, the words sending a shiver down my spine.
The chilling revelation hangs in the air, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. "She said she knew what happened that night, and threatened Elias." I freeze at the weight of the words, a sudden chill coursing through my veins.
What could that possibly mean?
As I begin to make my way toward the exit, Sol catches my shoulder, evidently confused, but then her eyes stray to Elias's men.
The air seems to thicken as our eyes meet, and a shared understanding passes between us.
"We have to go," she declares, her voice carrying a sense of urgency.
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