Rule 7 : Rage

CHAPTER 47: Twin Daggers.

The firelight danced on Imogen's face, casting her features in a mesmerizing kiss of light and shadow. Her crimson dress, a cascade of flowing silk, seemed to shimmer with an inner glow. Her hair, a fiery tangle of copper, framed her face like a halo.

"We should leave," a voice hissed, jolting me
from my reverie. I hastily adjusted my position, feigning intense focus on my workout. The ominous creak of footsteps sent a shiver of dread down my spine. I lowered my head.

When I risked a glance, there she was, Imogen, towering over me, her arms folded defensively across her chest.

"You were watching?" She accused, her voice a velvet caress. My breath caught in my throat as our eyes met. A million questions raced through my mind.

"Perhaps," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. But the fear in my eyes betrayed my lie.

Her eyes, twin daggers, held me captive as a knowing smirk curved her lips. "Every member of the Shadow Pact is trained in the art of observation. We can sense those who dare to intrude on our territory."

"What a smart girl," I mused silently, leaning back casually.

As the other girl, Renata, walked by, she stopped and regarded Imogen with a disapproving frown. "Mog, you know this is the men's gym. You're not supposed to be here."

A chill seeped into my bones, yet, I managed to plaster a careless grin on my face.

Imogen nodded curtly. "I know, Ren. It's just..." She trailed off, glancing at me.

"I'm so sorry if I caused any trouble," I said to Imogen, gazing intensely at her. "You shouldn't have come in because of me."

Renata raised an eyebrow. "Zayn Orson, from the orphanage? I've heard a lot about you. They say you have a bright future in the Shaque." She paused, her expression turning skeptical. "Is that true?"

"The joke seems real," I said aloud, laughing calmly. I couldn't help but think of how the houseparent used to tease us about the blonde girls back at orphanage. She'd always say, "Don't be fooled by their pretty faces; their brains are as empty as their heads." I shook my head, remembering her playful jests.

Mog and Renata's eyes locked in a silent, electric duel. My hands traced the lines of my face, my gaze lingering on Mog. Renata's breath was ragged as she spat, "Is the Shaque a joke to you?"

I stood my ground, a low growl escaping my lips. "I'm here to serve the Shaque, not you." My eyes met Imogen's, my gaze softening as a strand of her fiery hair brushed against her lips. She tucked it behind her ear with a graceful gesture.

"Not you," I repeated, my voice barely a whisper. Mog flinched, her eyes darting away. A muscle in her jaw twitched.

"Let's go, Ren, we shouldn't be here. I'm not comfortable," she rasped, her voice trembling slightly. She glanced around nervously, her eyes darting from side to side. With a swirl of shimmering air, they vanished, leaving me alone. I stood there, my heart pounding in my chest, a sense of adrenaline coursing through my veins as I watched them disappear.