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Naia positioned her body to face him, brows lifted, waiting.
“I am not here to exchange feelings,” he deadpanned.
“What is your story?” She tilted her head. Strands of her silver hair slipped over her shoulders as she leaned in and lightly nudged his arm. “Come on. I’m awfully curious how a god became a part of an organization who despises them.”
He wiped at the spot on his shirt she’d touched. “I’ll have to be on my deathbed for you to hear my life story.”
She licked the lemon juice off her lips, grinning. “Do you wear a mask because you do not know how to cloak your divinity?”
He sighed. “Must you ask so many questions?”
She sat up taller on her stool, enjoying the challenge. “What are the chances you’ll remove your mask and let me see your face?”
“On your deathbed.” He stood from his stool. “Now, if you wish to be more involved with our organization, get up and follow me.”
Naia should’ve felt a twinge of penitence for transporting a case of beer spiked with Ronin’s blood, but she didn’t.
Her job was relatively easy—walk the case from the warehouse to the loading lot. Nestled between the warehouse and brewery, down a long stretch of graveled road, it was surrounded by a privacy fence for seclusion. The case hardly weighed much of anything. To be a jackass—a word taught to her by Avi—Theon had tossed her his gloves as a dry sense of mockery when she hesitated for a beat to follow his instructions.
Because of her stubborn pride, she balanced the case with those gloves on her hands. To prevent calluses, Theon had said sarcastically.
The more she thought about it as she walked, the more she wondered who would succumb to drinking such poison. What kind of people bought the beer? And what deities was it being used on?
How many times in her life would she have jumped at the opportunity to buy a bottle of the beer and use it on Mira, or Marina even? If just to see them writhe with a genuine fear in their eyes, losing control, the vulnerability. Would they understand, then, how it felt to be truly powerless? The scene in her head was satisfying, but Naia knew, even if she had access to the blood back then, she wouldn’t have gone through with it.
Naia pushed away her thoughts and instead fixated on the stillness of the night. The moon was half-full, like a cut potato, in the sea of blackness. There were no signs of stars in the city. The blinking lights of skyscrapers and pockets of streetlights burned bright enough to erase them.
The gentle coolness of the night felt good against her bare arms. Though it did not explain the sudden chill gripping her spine.
Naia stopped in her tracks. Readjusted the case in her grasp as she inspected her surroundings. She had to squint her eyes through the murky layer of darkness to make out the privacy fence ahead and the outline of the trees rocking in the sudden whoosh of wind.
Is the night darker than it should be?—
She felt the rumbling in the soles of her boots first. A crash followed, the sound like a wrecking ball bulldozing into the side of the brewery.
The force of the explosion threw her back. Gravel buried into her elbows and her backside as she smashed into the ground. Shards of brick and pieces of wood sliced across her cheeks. The icy burn of beer seeped through her clothes. A ringing screamed in her ears.
Naia attempted to climb up, but a sharp pain shot up her collarbone and into her head. She winced. Moved her chin down to find where it was coming from.
The neck of one of the beer bottles was gouged into her sternum.
Her heartbeat fired for a split second as she remembered the beer was spiked, but then quickly calmed when she realized she could still lift her arms.
Avi’s potion worked.
Ronin’s blood wasn’t affecting her.
Ronin.
Where was he?
Naia struggled to see ahead, blinking away the grime in her eyes.
What was going on? Did someone set off a bomb?
The absence of answers fueled her determination. She summoned the strength to yank the glass from her chest and cast it aside. Blood seeped between her breasts and down her abdomen, quickly filling her lap. Tingles nipped across her cheeks. With each breath, she could feel the viscous liquid constricting her airways. Purple splotches invaded her vision.
No.
