The Abyss smelled of old blood and something worse, as I slipped through its dark corners. Something… decaying.
I hated coming here.
I had too many enemies in this place. People who wouldn't hesitate to sink a fat knife into my back, whether I was looking or not. But tonight, I didn't have a choice.
My target would only be here for one night, and if I missed him, that was the end—the contract, gone. Likely to be taken up by someone else. I couldn't have that.
Something wet and unpleasant squished under my boots. Something that could very well be a dismembered part of someone's body—as was commonly found in the nooks and crannies of this place. I wrinkled my nose in disgust.
This place was one of the darkest factions of The Black Market, known for housing a lot of seasoned killers. The Assassin's Guild, they were called; a bunch of money-hungry bounty hunters who would happily take any job, ranging from simple eliminations to… very complicated body disposals.
Here lived the kind of people you only called when you wanted someone gone for good. And the cleanup crew was also available for when you'd done the killing yourself and didn't want to handle the rest. But according to my client, my target was neither of those things.
He was an ordinary merchant.
Which was strange.
Why was he here then, you ask? Well. That was none of my business. And say 'merchant' was merely a pleasant euphemism for something more… sinister and depraved? That was also none of my business. The only thing that concerned me about the man was that he was alone and unarmed—without physical guards and magical wards.
A perfect hit.
I'd only been given his location, so I followed the directions strictly. Getting there, I spotted him easily. The man was very tall. Hard to miss. He wore a black coat dusted with crimson embroidery and he was speaking to another man. One in a black mask. The Shade?
The shade was a man who ran the Abyss from the shadows. No one knew his true face—as he was always hidden behind that mask—but there had been... rumours. Whispers that he was a scarred monster, his face destroyed and the flesh torn away until only the skull remained. Others swore he was a handsome siren who wore a mask so people wouldn't kill themselves over his beauty.
As if.
All I knew was that dealing with him was like playing with fire. Sooner or later, getting burned would be the least of your problems—seeing as you'd be scorched to death beyond recognition. And dead people didn't have problems, I think. Still, that didn't deter people from seeking him out. The sick bastard must've been good at whatever he did.
Not that I was much different.
I lingered in the crowd, waiting for my target to finish whatever business he had with The Shade. Patience wasn't my strongest suit, but it was critical in this line of work. If you lost focus for even a second, you could lose your mark. Especially ones who were smart enough to tell that you'd been tailing them.
So I kept my focus steady, and when my target started to move, so did I.
My client's instructions had been simple.
"Brush against him like it's an accident, so he doesn't immediately get suspicious. And trust me—you don't want him suspecting a thing."
That… made me pause a little bit, I'll be honest. But then—
"Although I hear you're so good, a target won't even know they've been touched until it's over—"
I raised my chin. That part was true. Hell, I even preened a little.
"—so I'm willing to trust that you can do a good job of this, Witch. But—" He leaned forward in seriousness, then, locking his glowing eyes—the only visible thing underneath his enormous hood—with mine in clear warning, "whatever you do… do NOT look him in the eyes."
Okay, there was… nothing scary about that. In the slightest.
Hm.
It was an odd request, but fine by me.
I'd been paid enough not to care.
I passed my target once to get a feel of things—size him up, up close. The second time, so I could picture everything—envision how I wanted it to go perfectly. On the third pass, I stumbled deliberately, letting my palm slide against his. He caught me by the wrist.
To steady me.
Aw.
How considerate. It only made my job easier.
The siphoning began.
I anticipated the familiar rush of energy—the stolen magic bleeding from my victim and igniting through my veins. It should've seeped into me in steady trickles and been over in seconds, but instead, power crashed through me so violently I staggered. Gods.
And it was—intoxicating.
I blinked, dazed.
When my client had first slapped that mouthwateringly huge sum of money down on the table, I hadn't thought him generous—I'd thought him foolish. No amount of power was worth that much.
I was wrong.
This raw strength was worth a hundred times the payment I'd been promised.
More energy flooded me, fiercer still—and I suddenly felt cheated. Underpaid. We might have to renegotiate before I delivered—
ow.
My eyes dragged slowly from where my wrist remained in his grip… up to the hollow of his throat. I faltered.
Was it... supposed to hurt?
Never.
Fourteen years of magic-eating, and I'd never felt pain like that on contact. Dizzy spells, headaches, the occasional nosebleed? Sure. But this?
Another wave tore through me, burning hot, squeezing the air from my lungs. I choked, desperate to break contact—
But he didn't let me.
My heart jumped.
Especially when his hand clamped around my wrist with a strength that was abnormal, even for a supernatural. It felt like the bones of my wrist were going to shatter if—
"A thief?" He chuckled darkly, and his voice wrapped around me like smoke. There'd been no surprise there. Not even anger. Just... peak amusement. Like my attempt to steal from him hadn't been threatening—or even insulting—in the slightest.
Like it was entertaining.
Fear flooded me.
Who…
Goosebumps raced over my skin as my client's voice replayed in my head once again— "Whatever you do, do not look him in the eyes…"
The warning had been clear. Crystal, in fact—reminding me exactly how dangerous it would be if I did, but—
My gaze betrayed me.
I looked up—
And my stomach immediately dropped to my toes.
Mercury eyes stared down at me—their depths, cold and… very hard to read. Flecks of red and gold shimmered in them, catching the light like burning embers. Angry embers…
The man was pissed. As he should be— oh gods, I'm fucked.
But it was strange; his eyes burned with fury yet his voice had sounded nothing like it. Was I in trouble or not? The uncertainty was killing.
A jagged scar cut through his left eyebrow, making him look even more dangerous.
His hair was as dark as sorrow—sorrow that would soon be mine—threaded with silver highlights that might've been natural or artificial, but the most prominent patch glinted at his temples—
Oh gods.
My eyes flew wide. Recognition hit first, then the gravity of my mistake slammed into me—weakening my knees and rendering me useless to do anything but shake.
Those eyes.
That... scar.
I knew exactly who they belonged to—and he was NOT someone I had ever wanted to meet.
This man was no merchant.
Nor bounty hunter.
Nor assassin.
He was far worse.
And when I say worse, I mean— If The Shade ran The Abyss, then this man owned The Shade, The Abyss, and quite literally, all other factions of The Black Market.
He was the hybrid Prince.
The most heartless monster in the land and chief ruler of this godforsaken kingdom!
And I had somehow landed in his grip.
Trapped.
Someone had set me up… and I wasn't sure I was walking out of this trap alive.