Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
When Vin slides into the booth across from me, his face looks as tired as I feel. “I didn’t think you’d come,” I mutter, not bothering to meet his eyes. He’s always got that air of confidence, but tonight, it feels different.
“It’s late. What’s up?” His voice is low, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s already bracing for what I’m about to say.
I shake my head, frustration gnawing at my insides. “I can’t do this anymore, Vin. I’m done.”
Vin’s eyes widen slightly, a flicker of surprise breaking through his usually composed expression. “What do you mean, you can’t? Of course you can. You have to. We’ve been at this too long to back out now, and you know we’re close.”
Close. I hear that word so often, it’s lost all meaning. It’s like Vin’s personal mantra, his fix-all solution to everything. But these past seven months have been a slow grind, wearing me down bit by bit. The late nights, the constant paranoia, the feeling like I’m always one step behind—it’s all weighing heavily on me. I don’t know which way is up or down anymore.
I scrub a hand down my jaw, the stubble rough against my palm, and let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know, Vin. I feel like there’s something we’re missing. Something big.”
Vin leans forward, his eyes narrowing, trying to read me. “Like what?”
“I don’t know yet,” I admit, shaking my head as frustration surges through me again. “But we’ve been listening in on these meetings for months, and we’re no closer than we were when we started. It feels like we’re chasing shadows.” I take a long pull from my beer, the bitterness of it doing little to dull the knot of anxiety tightening in my gut. “Honestly, I don’t know if we’re close at all.”
Vin clears his throat, his gaze hardening. He’s always the one to keep pushing, to tell me to hold on, but I can see the doubt flickering beneath his words, too. “Listen to me, we’re close. I know something big is about to go down. We’ve got inside sources saying they’re moving something huge soon. We just need to stay sharp, stay on top of our game. This is what we trained for. You can’t back out now.”
I nod slowly, but my mind’s not fully there. I’m trying to believe him, trying to convince myself that all this waiting, all this stress, is about to pay off. But there’s that nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells me otherwise. “I know,” I murmur, though the words feel hollow as I say them.
Stay sharp, which is code for don’t let anything, or anyone, distract you from the mission. That’s easier said than done.
Chapter 7
Evangelina
The club’s packed halfway through my shift, and my eyes keep clocking the door, wondering if Benedict will be stopping by. It’s been a few days since I saw him last and the anticipation adds a jittery edge to my movements, a mix of nerves and excitement. I’ve got my black wig on, the sleek bob framing my face and transforming my appearance into someone bolder, more mysterious.
As I prance around, taking drink orders and ensuring customers are happy, I can’t help but get excited about the idea of Benedict coming tonight. The crowd is buzzing, the energy electric. The dim lighting casts a sultry glow over everything, with neon accents and flickering candles adding to the ambiance. The bass of the music thrums through the floor, vibrating up through my heels and into my bones, syncing with my racing heart.
I weave through the throng of patrons, balancing trays of drinks with practiced ease. Each table presents a new set of faces, all eager for their own slice of indulgence. The scent of expensive cologne mingles with the aroma of top-shelf liquor. My interactions are smooth and polished, a flirtatious smile here, a light touch on the shoulder there, all part of the role I’m playing.
The night progresses in a blur of orders and interactions, the club growing even more crowded and lively. Every time the door opens, my pulse quickens, my gaze flickering to see if it’s him. The suspense is almost too much, but it keeps me sharp, my senses heightened.
Then, just as I’m beginning to think he might not show, the air in the club shifts. It’s subtle, a change in the energy that ripples through the crowd. My eyes snap to the entrance, and there he is. Benedict. He steps into the room with an air of confidence, his presence commanding immediate attention.
His dark hair is perfectly styled, and he’s dressed in a tailored suit that fits him like a glove. There’s a magnetism about him, an undeniable charisma that draws every eye in the room. As he scans the club, his gaze lands on me for a split second, and I feel a thrill of excitement shoot through me.