Filed To Story: Luna Riannon and Alpha Brayden Novel
“How did you get this?” he pointed at the serpent that thankfully did not move now.
“Oh, this?” she traced the ink with her fingers, not knowing how to respond to the question she wasn’t prepared for. The tattoo was still fresh, and she tried not to think about it as much as she could. “I just got it in the spur of the moment.”
That wasn’t technically a lie.
“Who sent you?” Fenrir’s voice sounded like metal, the air between them thickened, making it hard to breathe.
“The Southern Lycan Republic–”
“No, who sent you from the Republic?” His lips twitched from the pressure, and she instinctively knew she’d better not lie. Especially since her Teacher wanted their real names used this time.
“Joran Nathair,” Astrea replied, expecting some kind of reaction, but even as minutes flew between them, none followed.
“Then, I guess you are welcome to stay,” he said. “I will send someone to show you to your room.”
The change was too sudden, but Astea didn’t want to question her luck.
“Thank you, your Majesty–” she blurted out.
“Don’t call me that.” He shook his head. “Just Fenrir is fine.”
“Great! Yeah… Sure.” She tried not to grin too much. “And you can call me–”
“I am not going to be calling you anything. Just do your job and leave as soon as you are done,” he said, locking his eyes with hers. Something was off, and she could feel it, but for now, this was what she needed.
After all, too much depended on this task.
***
She waited outside the Tower until the guy with dreads returned with a sour facial expression.
“I guess you stay,” he grunted.
“I guess so.” She tried really hard not to beam. She came so close to failure that this felt like a kind of victory now.
Right until Dreads pushed the door to her room open.
Astrea’s eyes widened with shock…5. Busted
“You are not serious!” Astrea’s head snapped to her companion, who only shrugged his shoulders to demonstrate that he didn’t see any problem.
“This is the Rogue Kingdom. Not a five-star hotel,” Dreads reminded her, and she clenched her jaw tightly to avoid saying something she might regret.
The spartan conditions of the room were not a problem for her. The problem was that the room was tall and round, with no windows other than the glass ceiling. She was already suffocating here, and she hadn’t even stepped inside.
This reminded her of the silver pit too much. The days she spent at its bottom would never be erased from her memory.
The white walls had no decorations except one dull, full-length mirror in a wooden frame. There was only a modest queen size bed and a desk with an empty clothes rack. No bathroom in sight.
“Where would I wash?” she raised a brow at her guide.
“The common bathroom is at the end of the corridor. When the hot water is gone, it’s gone. And be aware that you can meet anyone there. Male, female–”
“Okay,” she said calmly, knowing that this was either a test or an attempt to intimidate her. “Good to know.”
If Dreads had any kind of reaction, he didn’t let her see it or maybe he simply didn’t care. Astrea had heard that once a wolf was banished from his or her pack, if a new pack didn’t accept them, after a while they tended to grow indifferent to everything around them. This was why rogues were so dangerous. Over time, the human side was fading in them, letting their raw, feral desires and emotions take over. Less morals and remorse, more freedom to do whatever they wanted on a whim. If rogues wanted something and knew they could get it, they would. Even if they had to steal, kill or do other awful things.
Astrea didn’t judge them, of course. She’d completed some very questionable missions in her life, including the one before this one. But she knew she had to be careful while living here.
“I guess I will see you around,” Dreads turned on his heel, preparing to leave.
“Will my luggage be brought here?” she wondered while he didn’t get far, but a derisive snort was her only response.
I guess that’s a no, Nova chuckled.
Big scary rogues wouldn’t carry our bags! Astrea chimed in, holding back a laugh. They sure showed us!
They have more in common with men of the Lycan Republic than they realise!
Astrea took a slow stroll back to where the helicopter landed an hour or so ago, and found her bags scattered across the space like unwanted garbage. Sighing, she gathered them together, soon realising she would need a few trips to get them all into her room. She came here with all sorts of things that could be required on her mission.
It did not escape her notice that some of the bags had clearly been opened while she was gone. The rogues probably wanted to check what she brought to their space, not being as careless as they pretended to be after all. However, they didn’t know that the tiny crystal on the handle of each of the zippers changed colour when used. She left them blue, and now most of them were green.
Amateurs! Nova stated plainly, unimpressed.
Either that or they want us to know that they are watching, Astrea hummed as she got as many bags as she could find. So far she had three cross-body bags on her with one backpack, two luggage on wheels with smaller bags attached to them. But still about the same remained.
“I’ll help,” she heard a male’s voice and turned to see the blonde guy from before already picking some of her luggage up. He was pretty big, so she had no doubt he would be able to help her get everything in one go.
“Thanks,” she smiled as sweetly as she could. “I’m sorry, I still don’t know your name.”
“Bastian,” he replied without sparing her as much as a glance.
“Nice to meet you, Bastian,” Astrea grinned at him, fluttering her long lashes playfully just in case. “Is it Bash for short?”
“You don’t need to know,” he responded bluntly, and the smile on her face faded slightly. “You are here temporarily; the sooner you return to your natural habitat, the better.”
She assessed his facial expression quickly, and absolutely nothing in him gave away his true emotions. As if he was trained better than her, although he looked relatively young. Did rogue life do that to him, or was there something else?
“Believe it or not, but that is exactly what I want, too,” she giggled, throwing him off his game as he finally darted his sky-blue eyes at her. “If we all work hard and cooperate well, all this will end quickly and painlessly for everyone. I’ll be gentle if you will.”
Bastian stared at her, and she winked at him before walking away toward her room. He caught up with her only when she was already inside and dropped her bags with a thump as if to make a point, leaving abruptly.
Astrea poked her head out of her door frame to see him marching down the arched passage along the intricate white outside balcony rails that gave a view of the inner courtyard.
“Thank you, Bash!” she sang, and he stumbled at once. This was almost too easy.
She returned to the room and sighed, trying not to look up. She could work with this space.
Unpacking all her deadly toys, Astrea smirked to herself. Those rogues were amateurs in comparison. They could have checked her things, but it was unlikely they had noticed anything suspicious. After all, it was next to impossible to detect that some of her lipstick contained poison for different types of shifters. And that her hair accessories had thin sharp blades inside made of silver, copper and other metals. Her perfume was mixed with aconite, and some of her high heels had needles with venom or tranquilisers inside.
This had to do for now. The box with the most valuable equipment was dropped not far from here from the helicopter before they arrived at this place, and Astrea had the coordinates memorised. She would have to retrieve it in a day or two when they stopped watching her so closely.
It didn’t look like they cared, but she still had to be careful. The first night always had to be the quiet one.
So, after all the unpacking, Astrea decided to go to sleep. The instructions about the shower were clear to her, and she knew she’d better wake up around four or five o’clock in the morning to avoid unwanted company.
She closed her eyes tightly in her bed but couldn’t get rid of the unending suffocating feeling. Astrea could hear her own heart pumping and tried to breathe evenly to calm down and fall asleep. No matter how long she tried though, it wasn’t really working, bringing her back to the months she spent in the pit.
Opening her eyes, she saw the stars, her only companion during her silver-filled neverending torture. She used to watch them, count them, and recognise the constellations as her only source of entertainment. They gave her peace in her most challenging moments, but today they called for action.
Don’t do this, Nova warned her, knowing her too well. If anyone sees you tonight, they will always suspect you. We need to keep a low profile.
We do. If anyone sees me, I will tell the truth. I couldn’t sleep. Astrea cut her off and stood up.
She looked at herself in the mirror and chose to stay in the provocative white lace slip she had carefully selected for the night. She didn’t plan to meet anyone, but if an accident happened, her look would give her a few seconds to deal with it. Then she added a white magnolia hairpin to her hair and moved the desk to make it easier to jump and reach the glass ceiling. One of the parts of it was opened, and she got through it with ease, finding herself on the roof.
She scanned the other rooftops quickly with her shifter vision but found no one, to her relief. These rogues were too careless.
Reminds me of someone, Nova didn’t give up.
Would you relax? I am not going on a big mission! It’s just a quick, careful look around.