RuNyx .

“Happy anniversary, Mrs. Clemm-Deverell,”

It was when she’d started to track him that she’d discovered Jackson had actually been sent to get close to her by the Outfit. More specifically, Tristan Caine. How he'd learned about her skills and the codes, she didn’t know.

Those codes were her Frankenstein. A powerful monster that went wrong, out of her control. They could digitally deface anyone, extract out every dirty secret from the deepest parts of the web, and destroy entire governments, entire mobs if it were to fall into the wrong hands.

Steeling her spine, she flashed her arm out before she could stop it, her leg hooking around his knee, classic self-defense training overtaking her senses for a moment. She tugged with her leg just as she pushed his weight with her arm, knocking him down on the hard ground, her triumph flaring at watching the brief surprise cross his face. Within a heartbeat, he was back on his feet again, in a lithe movement that would have awed her had he been anyone else. But she wasn't done.

Morana stepped into his personal space this time, her finger going to his hard pecs under the open collar black shirt, poking him once as she spoke, her head tilted back to keep their eyes locked, her voice colder than his had been.

"Never make the mistake of thinking you scare me. It will be your last."

And swayed on her feet.

What the hell?

She looked down at her one empty glass of orange juice, frowning, as the lights before her eyes blurred a bit, the world spinning slightly.

Had someone spiked her drink? The weird bartender?

No. No. No. This could not be happening to her. Not here, and not now.

Shaking her head to clear the haze enough to walk, Morana turned towards the entrance. And tried to take a step.

She swayed hard, almost tipping over.

Hands on her arms steadied her from behind, rough hands on her soft skin.

Morana blinked, her tongue swollen, wool in her mouth as the world spun a little more, her knees turning to jelly. Tremors wracked her frame, the music pounding in her skull painfully. Her lids got heavier. Fear pooled in her stomach because if she fell over in this club, she would be dead if someone found her or when her father found out. That kind of cooled the wave of drowsiness sweeping over her, just as those hands turned her around.

Morana blinked up at the blue, blue eyes peering down into her face, the hands holding her arms rough and hard. Suddenly, one hand moved up to grip her chin as he leaned her against the counter of the bar, his eyes focused on hers, holding her focus for one clear second before her lashes drifted down.

"Fuck!"

The growled expletive made her open her eyes and look up at him again, only to stagger under the sheer force of the hatred she could see searing the blue, searing her skin. She had felt him watching her but she'd had no clue how he'd been watching her. Had his eyes been burning with this loathing the entire time? Was that why her skin had tingled?

Her breath hitched in her throat, the realization that nobody had ever hated her as he did dawning upon her. She tried to open her mouth, to ask him why he despised her, where it was rooted, but her lips refused to cooperate.

The hand on her chin jerked her head, bringing her focus back to those blazing eyes, her heart hammering in her chest as her skin turned hotter under his touch, drowsiness battling with unrelenting focus.

"I'm not saving you again," he muttered through clenched teeth, his gaze livid, his other hand pulling out his phone, the bandage wrapped around the palm where he had cut himself on her knife making her stomach twist.

"Dante," he spoke, his voice tight, controlled. "Someone spiked her drink."

Silence as Dante said something. And then. "I'm not going to stick around and play hero. Amara can babysit her while she recovers."

They've always been protective of women and children. Which is why what happened tonight was not ordinary."

Amara continued chuckling. “That man is territorial about his space. Very territorial. I once entered his room without knocking, he almost glared the life out of me!"

Everything inside Morana stilled with the information

Me: He's a guest. You're not.

There was a pause before the reply came.

Tristan Caine: So he can touch you and I cannot?

Her heart stopped. Before pounding with a vengeance. He'd never spoken to her like that.

Me: This conversation is over.

She locked her phone. And unlocked it again.

New message. She swallowed.

Tristan Caine: Chicken.

Tristan Caine: I dare you.

Don’t. Don’t take the bait, Morana kept on repeating.

Me: To do what?

Long pause. Heart thundering, she waited, careful not to seem too engrossed.

Tristan Caine: To show him even half the wildcat you are