Landon sat across from Theresa in the dim booth of a forgotten wine bar tucked between two abandoned buildings downtown.
It would be a disaster to be seen with her by someone else, so they decided to choose an easier route.
The clink of a half-empty glass was the only sound between them for a few breaths. Outside, dusk was bleeding into night, and the city buzzed with its usual chaos, completely unaware of the storm building quietly inside this room.
He hadn't really looked at her until now. He did, but never properly nor deep. Not since they'd bumped into each other two weeks ago outside Grigor's estate.
She looked like a ghost of herself—more elegant than ever, but somehow less alive. Her hair, once vibrant red and cascading in defiance, was tucked beneath a black silk scarf.
Her sunglasses were still on, even in the low light, and her lipstick was dark as night. She was obviously hiding her identity. She looks more mysterious, and drenched in poison and charm.
