The stiletto still gripped tightly in my hand, its blade slick with blood, as some of the crowd panicked and scattered. But I didn't care. I was a force now, Medusa tearing through Alasteer's elite. I didn't know what I was fighting for—only that I was fighting.
There were too many of them. Too many masked faces I couldn't place. They surrounded me like wolves, waiting carefully to find gaps in my defense. The air was thick with tension. The VIPs closest to the stage were quickly escorted out by security, the clang of heels and the sharp shuffle of hurried footsteps barely making a sound amidst the chaos unfolding in front of them.
Someone took a chance and leapt from behind, my stiletto was a blur, cutting through the air in a rapid, deadly arc. with a swift motion, I pivoted and drove my blade straight into his side. He gasped, his body jerking in surprise as he collapsed to the floor with a grunt, blood pooling beneath him.
The crowd didn't flinch.
"Attack her all at once!" Phoenix said and then the Alasteer swarmed me like ants.
I twirled the stiletto in my hand, feeling the cold steel settle comfortably between my fingers. I moved without thinking, instinct guiding my every strike. Another attacker lunged from my left, but I sidestepped with practiced ease, slashing his throat with a quick, efficient cut. His body crumpled at my feet, and still, no one in the crowd moved.
Jazz, however, remained still. He stood in the midst of it all—his eyes locked onto mine. There was something in them, something that made me hesitate, even for a fraction of a second.
I spun on my heel, my blade flashing in the dim light, and took down another attacker from behind. The Alasteer soldiers were relentless, coming at me from all sides, but I was faster, more brutal, a hurricane of death in the ballroom.
But still, Jazz didn't move.
My heart raced—not from fear, but from something else. Something deeper. My every instinct screamed to destroy, to tear down this empire, to bring Alasteer to its knees. But Jazz's presence, his unwavering gaze, made it harder to stay focused. He was too calm. Too collected. His face, usually so expressive, was unreadable now, hidden behind a mask of composure.
I barely noticed the man who crept up behind me. His attack was swift, too fast for me to dodge completely. The tip of his blade grazed my arm, sending a sharp sting of pain through me. The moment I turned to retaliate, I realized too late that the man I had stabbed in the stomach was none other than Jazz.
He wasn't attacking me, rather, he gestures his hands to stop, a command that faltered against Phoenix' command.
"Really? Hiding the past from me so you could brag to your fucking organization that you've killed Medusa?" I say, my words in spite.
The blade I had driven into his gut was still there, wedged deep in his abdomen. Blood seeped from the wound, staining his pristine suit. But Jazz didn't flinch. He didn't gasp. He stood tall, his posture straight and dignified as if the pain didn't exist. His eyes, cold and unyielding, never left mine.
"Jazz! What the fuck are you doing?" Phoenix declared from the mic, but Jazz didn't care.
The distance between the two of us are now barely existent, and I remain stabbing him in the stomach. He was simply looking at me, examining my facial features, and for some reason, he was breathing really heavily.
"Heart, you could've just communicated it to me." He says softly.
"You think communicating is that easy? How easy to hide my past from me and brag to your people that you've killed her?" I raise my pride, he paused for seconds, intently analyzing what's behind my eyes.
