Undercover Hate

Chapter Twenty-One: No Time to Die... Yet

I tap my fingers against the table, my eyes darting toward the couple. They're whispering again, but I can't make out the words. They've been sitting there for nearly an hour now, pretending to be casual, but there's something about them—something off.

And then, they stand. The man throws a few bills down, and the woman slides on her coat. I feel my muscles tense. This is it.

"They're leaving," I murmur, nudging Ace. He's been way too laid-back about this whole situation, but then again, he always is. I grab my bag, already halfway out of my seat.

"Adriana, slow down," Ace says, sounding almost bored, but I'm not listening.

"They're up to something," I whisper, eyes locked on the couple. "You heard them. They're planning something big."

"Yeah, yeah. Art thieves, right? We don't even know if they—"

But I'm already moving, my body pulled by an invisible string that's wrapped around that woman's back. My blood hums with anticipation.

I slip out of the café, the night air cool against my skin, but it's not enough to calm the fire building inside me. I see the couple a few yards ahead, their silhouettes illuminated by streetlights. The woman's head turns slightly, but I duck behind a parked car, watching them like a predator stalking its prey.

"Adriana, seriously," Ace huffs, finally catching up to me. He's not even trying to be subtle, and I shoot him a look that screams quiet.

"They're going to lead us straight to the art pieces," I whisper, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Or they're just going home," he counters, but I can hear the shift in his voice. He knows I'm right, or at least he knows I think I'm right.

The couple turns a corner, and I dart across the street, my boots barely making a sound. Ace grumbles something behind me, but he follows. He always does.

I see my chance when the woman hesitates in front of a dim alley. Before I can think twice, I grab her arm, yanking her away from her partner and slamming her against the brick wall. The crack of her skull against the stone echoes in the narrow space.

"Who are you working for?" I hiss, pressing my forearm against her throat, not giving her room to breathe.

She gasps, her eyes wide with shock. "W-What are you doing?" she croaks, trying to push me off, but she's weak. I know she's hiding something. She has to be.

"You're planning something, and I want to know what," I growl, pushing harder. The woman squirms, but she's not giving anything up. Not yet.

Behind me, I hear Ace approach, his voice low. "Adriana—"

"I can handle this," I snap, my focus laser-sharp on the woman. I'm not letting her slip through my fingers. Not when I'm this close.

I hear it before I see it—a dull thud, followed by a grunt of pain. I whip my head around just in time to see Ace take a punch to the gut from another man—backup. Shit.

"Ace!" I shout, loosening my grip on the woman for just a second, but that's all she needs.

Her knee connects with my stomach, knocking the wind out of me, and before I can react, she's got me pinned. I struggle, but the cold press of steel against my throat freezes me in place. A dagger. Just perfect.

"You talk," the woman snarls in my ear, "or your pretty little neck gets a new smile."

I swallow, hard. Behind her, Ace is on the ground, taking hit after hit. Blood trickles from his lip, and I flinch with every blow, my body twitching as if I can feel the pain myself.