Chapter 5

Katherine pov ....

The makeup girl dabbed the last touch of highlighter on my cheekbone, but I’d already tuned her out. My hand reached for the lipstick instead—deep wine red. I dragged it across my lips slowly, deliberately, my reflection staring back at me from the mirror.

I tilted my head. The reddish-brown contact lenses caught the light. Normally I’d go for green—cold, lethal, beautiful in a way that unsettles men—but tonight… tonight the eyes staring back at me burned warmer, almost dangerous in a different way. The short blood-red dress hugged my body like a second skin, scandalously backless, dipping low enough to make even women turn around. Every curve was exactly where it needed to be. The heels—black, delicate, perfectly balanced—were light enough for running, heavy enough to crush a man’s windpipe if necessary.

It was almost as if Elijah had read my mind. Or maybe… he was baiting me.

But something was missing.

My knives.

I turned, eyes sliding toward the two guards standing near the door, weapons lowered but hands twitching like they knew I could end them in under five seconds. “Where are my knives?” I asked, voice smooth.

The one on the left smirked, answering in Russian, "Босс говорит, что ты их не понимаешь." (Boss says you don’t get them)

My jaw tightened. Fine. I turned back to the mirror, taking one last look. I look dangerously beautiful.

The guards moved. One in front, one behind. I followed, heels clicking against the polished floor. I could kill them both before we hit the stairs—but blood on this dress would be a waste. My hair was pulled high into a sleek ponytail, every strand perfect, my mind already calculating how to kill two birds with one stone tonight.

The man Elijah wanted gone… and Klaus.

Elijah’s target tonight — whoever the unlucky corpse might be — meant nothing to me. A faceless man, just another name on a list. What mattered was the deal. Elijah’s word that once this job was done, I’d be free. But freedom from him was a promise wrapped in chains, wasn’t it? I don't trust him . How could I trust that he wasn’t dangling escape like bait, just waiting for me to step into the snare?

And then there is Klaus.

The man that lives in my veins, If I had the chance tonight, I would put him down before Elijah had the chance to toy with me further. That was my real mission before Elijah’s shadow darkened my path. Klaus deserved more than death — he deserved a signature. My mark. The number 47 carved into his chest, accompanied by my smile.

Halfway down the hall, a flicker of movement caught my eye. A little girl, maybe six, skipping in the opposite direction. Not a prisoner—her face was too open, too happy. She froze when she saw me, big eyes staring like she’d just seen a ghost.

“Amiee?” she said, the word rising like a question.

I slowed. My brows drew together.

Her confusion shifted to pure excitement. “Amiee!” she called again, smiling like she knew me.

The name meant nothing. But it made something in my gut twist. Before I could speak, the guard behind me shoved the muzzle of his gun lightly into my back, urging me forward.

I walked.

And then I saw him.

Elijah.

He was standing near the base of the stairs, phone to his ear. And God help me, he was… distracting. The kind of man brands would pay to hold a champagne bottle and watch sales triple. Strong jaw, cold eyes, a tailored black suit that probably cost more than most cars.

Hot but not my type.

He glanced up when my heels hit the marble. His gaze flicked over the dress once, then dismissed me entirely, turning back to his call. No compliment. No reaction.

What more was I expecting ? He walked out the front door like I wasn’t even there. His guards followed in formation, one gripping my arm hard enough to bruise before shoving me toward a black van.

The van was full of men. I slid inside with a low sigh. “Does he really think I can’t take down every man in this van?” I asked out loud, knowing Elijah couldn’t hear me.

No one answered.

Outside, he slipped into his expensive car, pulling away. My van followed, the silence thick enough to choke on. My mind drifted back to the little girl.... who the fuck is amiee ? and to the one thing I hadn’t noticed until now. Elijah —twins? . How had I missed it? I investigated Klaus properly??Was the intel wrong…

The venue loomed ahead—white marble, glittering lights, the hum of money in the air. Cars pulled up in a long, elegant line, spilling out women in gowns and men in tailored suits. My van stopped far from the front. Elijah’s car slid in beside it.

The guards dragged me out and toward his car. One opened the back door and shoved me in. I yanked my arm free and adjusted my dress, my expression icy.

“It’s a masquerade ball,” Elijah said, as if I cared.

The driver handed him a black velvet box. He opened it, pulled out a mask, and handed it to me. Before I could speak, he reached inside again… and tossed me two knives.

" Finally "

Mask in place, I leaned back against the seat.

When we pulled up to the front, Elijah got out first, then turned and offered me his hand. His voice was low, meant only for me.

"They won't want you,” he murmured “They want the thrill of stealing from me. You’ll only matter because they’ll believe I already claimed you.”

Arrogant...

I placed my hand in his, not because I needed help stepping out of the car, but because I wanted the crowd to see it. Let them think I was his. Let them whisper. Let them paint their own version of me—none of it would be the truth.