70: Not Today, Satan
SERA
I'd been shot, stabbed, electrocuted, betrayed, and once held in a tank of freezing water for nearly two days straight. But nothing, absolutely nothing, was more uncomfortable than walking into a ballroom full of people who either wanted you dead... or desperately wanted to sleep with your husband. Tonight, most of them probably qualified as both.
Killian's hand was warm on the small of my back, guiding me through the grand entrance of the Cross Estate's ballroom like we were royalty. Or maybe prey on display. It was hard to tell with this family.
The chandeliers above us were stupidly massive, one earthquake away from mass homicide. Music hummed from the string quartet in the corner. And at the far end of the room, on a glittering throne-like chair surrounded by gift baskets, roses, and flatterers, sat Sonia Cross, the queen herself. Killian's mother. Birthday girl. Professional ice sculpture in heels.
Her gaze landed on me.
I gave her my most charming smile. She didn't smile back. Shocker
I guess she knew how I'd almost assassinated her son.
"Ready?" Killian asked under his breath, glancing at me.
"No," I replied sweetly. "But I look hot, so it balances out."
That got him to chuckle. God, I loved that sound.
A waiter passed by with champagne. I grabbed a glass and drained it halfway in one sip.
Let's get this over with.
...
It happened when Sonia stood for her toast.
She raised her glass. "To family. To legacy. And to surviving long enough to see your enemies age badly."
Everyone laughed. But then the quartet started to play again. And that's when it hit me. It wasn't the bitter jealousy of the women staring at Killian like they wanted to climb him like a jungle gym. No. It was the music.
That soft, haunting lullaby. My breathing was already quickening. I knew that melody. It belonged to the place where my nightmares were born.
Flashes of memories slammed into me, and I gasped from the pain in my head.
A steel table. A blinding white light overhead. My wrists strapped down. A needle shoved into my vein. A scream trapped in my throat.
"Sleep, little shadow..." a voice had crooned in my ear. "You'll wake when it's time to kill."
Then the electricity came. And I did scream. They said it was necessary. They claimed that pain rewrote the brain faster...
"Sera? Hey, hey..."
I blinked. Killian was in front of me, his hands gently gripping my arms.
"Sit down," he murmured, already guiding me towards the corner settee. "Breathe, Angel. You're safe."
I sat down even though my spine still hummed with phantom volts. My hands trembled as I set the champagne flute on the table beside me.
Killian crouched down in front of me, ignoring the curious eyes around us. Even here, in a room full of cutthroat heirs and venomous exes, he only saw me.
"You okay?"
No. Not even close.
But I nodded anyway. "It’s just... the music." I forced a weak smile. "Apparently, I have childhood trauma with orchestras."
He gave me that look again, the one that made my heart ache. That soft, worried, 'I'd burn the world to make you feel safe' kind of look.
"Do you want to leave?"
God, I could've kissed him for that.
Actually, why not?
I leaned forward and kissed him gently. His hand cupped the back of my neck, grounding me, and he kissed me back.
For a second, I forgot the music and the torture. And the fact that I was in the same room as Juliet, who was definitely watching us from across the ballroom like she wanted to set me on fire.
I pulled away and smirked. "If you keep kissing me like that in public, your ex is going to 'accidentally' push me off a balcony."
Killian glanced over at Juliet, unimpressed. "Let her try."
I grinned.
"I'll be right back," I murmured, rising to my feet.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yep," I lied smoothly. "I’m just going to splash some water on my face and re-evaluate every decision that led me to this soap opera."
Killian didn't laugh, but his lips twitched.
I headed for the hallway, my heels clicking against polished marble. Behind me, the music swelled again. I didn't look back. I had enough ghosts following me tonight.
The corridor was dimmer and quieter. But I could still hear the distant echo of champagne-fueled laughter.
Then I saw him. The glass wall on my left overlooked the moonlit courtyard. It was elegant and peaceful.
Except it wasn't empty.
A tall man dressed in a black suit stood beneath the archway, framed in silver light, watching me. My heart skipped a beat. He wasn't close enough for me to see his features clearly, but somehow, I knew.
The hair on my arms rose stiffly. My blood chilled as though it recognized him before my brain did. And then his face turned slightly, catching the light.
I froze.
Intense blue eyes, a buzz cut and a scar by his lips.
The Phoenix.
He was the one who’d given the order. The man who’d activated the command in my head and whispered that lullaby. The man who sent me to kill Killian. I didn't remember everything. But I remembered that.
My knees went weak.
And right then it hit me when I noticed the way his eyes matched Killian's in certain angles. The similarities of their features.
No.
He wasn't just connected to Killian.
He might be his brother.
I took a step back instinctively. At that moment, his gaze met mine through the glass. His expression stayed blank, but his eyes...they were smiling wickedly. It made me feel sick to my stomach.
After a few seconds, he just turned and walked away into the shadows like a ghost disappearing into the night.
But my chest felt tight, as if he'd left something in me buzzing and broken.
Killian.
Where was Killian?
I spun around, suddenly breathless, ready to bolt back into the ballroom when someone stumbled into view down the hall.
"Shit," she cursed with a shaky voice.
Sonia Cross.
She was swaying on her feet, her hand shaking as she fumbled with the clasp on her purse. Her skin looked too pale, her lips slightly blue.
I'd seen this before.
Low blood sugar.
Once upon a time, Sonia and I used to talk. About stupid reality shows. She'd even shown me old Cross family albums once. Now she could barely look at me without wanting to bite me. But this wasn't about pride or grudges. This was about not dying in the hallway at your own damn birthday party.
"Mrs. Cross!" I rushed forward without thinking.
She looked up, dazed. "I—I can't—"
I lowered her gently onto the narrow velvet bench along the wall and yanked the purse from her hands. "Where's your glucagon pen?"
She blinked at me, barely conscious now.
"Dammit," I hissed, already digging through her bag.
And thank God, there it was. The red emergency case. I twisted the cap off the syringe. Her skin was clammy as I hiked her dress to the side a little and jammed the needle into her outer thigh.
The plunger depressed with a solid push. Then we waited for a minute or two. I held her upright, supporting her head as her breathing evened out.
"You're okay," I muttered. "You're not dying tonight, Sonia. Not in heels and a silk dress. That's just not the legacy you want."
Her fingers twitched. Color returned to her face slowly, her lashes fluttering. And then she blinked up at me, as if she wasn't quite sure if she was hallucinating.
"Sera...?"
She glanced down at the needle still in her leg, then up at my face.
"You remembered how to do that," she whispered.
"I also remember your old dog's birthday and your hatred for walnuts," I said, lowering the used injector into the tray beside her. "Selective memory loss, I guess."
Silence stretched between us for a moment. And for once, it wasn't hostile.
"You were always good in a crisis," she said softly.
I shrugged. "Must be all the training from when I was a government assassin. Comes in handy at dinner parties."
Sonia let out a tired sigh.
“You good?" I asked gently.
She nodded. "I think so."
"Cool. Then I'm going to go track down your son before Juliet finishes whatever creepy plan she's cooking up."
She gave me a look I couldn't decipher. It wasn't gratitude or warmth. But maybe... less hatred? A diplomatic meh?
Progress.
I stepped away and turned the corner, and that’s when I saw Juliet.
Her arm was curled possessively around Killian's waist as he stumbled beside her as though his bones had turned to jelly.
He was clearly drugged, disoriented, and confused. She was leading him out of the hall. My heart sank.
Not today, Satan.
Out of instinct, my gaze darted across the roof of the opposite building. There was something off about the shadow up there.
And that's when my stomach dropped.
Because there was a laser red light targeted at my husband.
"Shit,” I cursed.
My body moved before my brain fully caught up.
"KILLIAN!” I screamed, and his head turned instantly, his eyes meeting mine.
And in that split second, I knew he saw something in my face that told him everything he needed to know.
He was in immediate danger.