ALARIC'S POV
Some people make war with armies, I prefer something more elegant, especially for a man who murdered one of my own.
Zariah is sitting in the backseat of the armored car, with her legs crossed and her arms folded across herself, staring out the window like she's not the detonator I just rigged to explode in the middle of enemy territory.
---- not literally of course, but she doesn't know she's bait yet, and I'm not in the mood to explain.
I've only told her that she'll be talking with some 'interesting' men tonight and that she should behave.
She just needs to look pretty, play submissive, and give my enemies a reason to crawl out into the open field.
And when they do, I'll burn every last one of them alive.
"Why are we meeting in an abandoned parking deck, and in the evening?" she asks, glancing out the car window with a look of suspicion on her face.
"Because sunlight is boring."
She shoots me a look. "And the armed guards?"
"A girl like you draws attention."
She scoffs. "You mean trouble."
"That too."
She adjusts the hem of her dress which is short and tight---- I chose it specifically to catch eyes.
Her collar is gone today— because she's not mine this evening, she's Luc's little runaway bride, come to make peace.
At least, that's what they think, but in reality, she's walking into a kill zone with a sniper on every rooftop and a tracker under her bra.
The moment Luc's men step into range, they'll die.
My plan is simple and to the point, so things should go well.
The car rolls to a stop on the top level of the deck where there's gray concrete, oil stains and crows on the railings.
Zariah steps out of the car first, wobbles slightly on her stilettos, but recovers fast.
She walks forward with that chin- up, don't- fuck- with- me attitude that would get her killed in any other world, and I shake my head mentally, realising just how much free hand i give her in my world.
Minutes later, I stay in the surveillance van one floor down, watching her through the live feeds and thermal signatures.
She moves to the center of the lot, alone and unarmed, looking very much vulnerable.
... Just like I told her.
Then three figures come out from the far end of the structure and I recognise them to be Luc's men.
One--- ex military---- I actually recognize from the scar that runs down his cheek, and the others... must be new.
They circle her slowly and I don't miss the way Zariah's body goes tense.
"Nice dress," one says.
"Do he lets you pick your own clothes?"
"That depends," Zariah says coolly then adds, as if she knows him well.
"Are you still wetting the bed when you're not strapped?"
I hold back a smile at that.
She's sassy, bold... and completely reckless.
I press the comm.
"Hold your position," I say into the mic. "Let her talk and let them get even closer."
Just one more minute and we'll have them all in our sights.
However Zariah glances up too quickly.
Shit.
... And one of the men notices and nudges the other two.
> "She looked at something."
They begin to turn around, looking for what it is that she was looking at.
This isn't going so well.
"Do not move, Zariah," I call, grabbing the comm and bringing it closer to my mouth, but she starts backing up.
"Zariah stand still."
"You're using me," she snaps,... and not just to me but to Luc's me as well,... because she just said it out loud.
The men stop looking around immediately and turn to face her.
"He's here?" Scarface asks.
Zariah's breath quickens at his words and reaches for something under her dress.
What the hell is she—
It's a gun.
FUCK!
It's small and tucked to her thigh.
Where the hell did she even get that from?
"Stand down, Zariah!"
However she doesn't and just goes ahead to fire, then misses and the men run off, whistling to call the others for back up.
Gunfire begins to run through the entire structure we're in and my men breach from every level.
The sniper---- one of my men---- on the west rail drops one target clean, but Scarface dives behind a pillar and sprays bullets across the deck.
With all these going on, I search for the little liar with my eyes and find her ducked behind a car, with her hands over her ears.
Where the hell is the gun she was holding?
I get off the van and storm up the ramp, firing while several bullets bounce off the concrete around me.
One of my men— I remember his name to be Marcus— takes a hit to the chest and drops down instantly, and I know he's dead without even going closer to where he is.
Fuck, he was twenty three and loyal.
I spot Zariah crawling across the pavement, trying to escape the line of fire.
... But my eyes narrow when I see that she's heading toward the out way we drove in through.
No fucking way am I letting her do that.
I sprint after her, shooting down men on my way, before reaching her and tackle her just as she reaches the exit.
"Let me go!" She screams, kicking and clawing at me.
"Shut the fuck up!"
I slam her back into the wall so hard that I hear the air leave her lungs in a shocked gasp.
Then my gun presses to her cheek and her eyes go wide.
"Alaric—"
"You cost me a man," I growl. "You cost me a clean op."
"I didn't know—!"
"You didn't listen."
Her breath trembles and I press the barrel harder into her skin.
... Not to hurt her, no, to remind her what I am and what she's playing with---- it seems I've been too calm with her.
"I give you orders," I hiss.
"You don't get to improvise, you don't get to run and you don't fucking shoot unless I tell you to."
Tears well in her eyes, but she doesn't say anything.
I lower the gun, just barely, then lean in until our foreheads touch.
"You want to play soldier, little liar?" I whisper.
"You better learn how to bleed for it."