Beneath the Fox's Claws: Sent To Kill My Father's Enemy

blossom with a hint

senses, cutting off the noise, extinguishing the laughter, silencing the music. It's the scent of the woman who nearly ended my life, the scent of fres

heart. A prickling sensation flares across my skin, and the scars-the deep, jagged lines where the blad

tunneling until the vibrant chaos of the ballroom becomes a blur of irrelevant color.

ds through my face like ice. My jaw clenches, hard enough to ache. I wasn't panicking. I had returned to an overwhelming

on my other side, subtly straightens, his hand drifting imperceptibly towards his concealed weapon. They've both seen the flicke

ve one. Becaus

ay again, or allow any

ow, deliberate pivot at first, then a sw

tica

ders, excusing myself with curt nods that hide the desperation in my eyes. I need to get to her, before the scent fades, before she melts back into

the crowd, towards the periphery where the light is softer, the shadows longe

gures. Dark hair, sleek and straight. A subtle movement, a fluid grace that resona

s out, prepared to grip her arm, to pull her out of the crowd, to finally look into th

to my arm, accompanied with a splash

s, Don De Luna!

now-empty champagne flute, droplets clinging to my jacket sleeve.

rily fractured, snaps back

pt

's

chestra, louder than the laughter. My jaw clenches, a harsh grinding sound. The tension of an

side door, leading to one of the smaller, private studies, without hesitation, I throw the door open, step i

tears through my throat, I slam my fist down onto the heavy oak desk that dominates the room. The i

om my lips, FUUCCK, it is ra

strands tightly, pulling as if to yank the frustration from my skull. My eyes squeeze

er is a powerful current, but I cannot drown in it. Not now. Not when

breath. My face recomposes, the cold mask sliding back into place. My e

f the party washes over me once more, but it no long

towards him. He is speaking to someone, a young wo

ks so familiar

ntrast to the darkness of her gown. It's a black gown, simple yet elegant, decorated with tiny silver diamonds that catch the light like sc

her

l

pse of that night, illuminated by the flashing lights of the club. The eyes of the woman who held a bla

ented memories, the glimpses, the tantalizing scent-they coalesce into this sing

d, my gaze polite, yet unwavering. My eyes locked onto h

teady, betraying none of the earthquake

r. It ha

e sure she'