Page 107 of Heart of Thieves

I stare up at the sky as my body screams in agony. As blood pools hot behind my head.

I need to get up. Laurel will go after Lola next, I know she will. I may live through whatever Laurel will do to me, but Lola certainly won’t.

I try to roll onto my side, but a foot drives hard into my ribs, and a roar of agony chokes out through my teeth. The women swarm me once more, sobbing as they rain kicks into my crumpled body. A pointed shoe strikes my head directly over my still-unhealed wound.

I growl, pitching sideways.

Laurel watches from a few feet away, face stricken. “Please,” I croak, reaching for her. “I’m sorry.”

She stares at me as though my words have struck her. They are a lie, but she seems to have forgotten I cannot speak truth, because she moves closer, eyes glimmering. “What did you say?”

“I’m sorry, Laurel,” I repeat. “I’m sorry I destroyed your life and killed your father and broke your heart.”

She shuffles closer. “So you admit it’s your fault?” Her voice cracks.

Once she’s within reach, I lunge for her ankle. She goes down with a shriek, and I claw for the voratium in her fist. She’s so surprised she doesn’t seem to realize what I’m doing until it’s too late.

As soon as my fingers close around the metal, I blast her with a thousand illusions at once, so many the magic slices through me, blinding me.

She screams, scrambling away as the women flee. She sprints up the road, vanishing around the corner, leaving me bleeding and broken in the street.

Swaying, I turn my aching body westward.

She’ll return. When she does, she’ll be prepared, and this tiny chip of voratium won’t be enough for the depths she’ll rain upon me for what I’ve done.

I need to get to my casino. Now.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

LOLA

“Lola!”

Enzo’s harsh whisper drags me through the sludge of slumber, and I bolt upright in bed, squinting to see without my glasses.

His blurry form beckons from the window, where dusk paints him dusty blue.

“What’s wrong?” I fumble for my glasses, shoving them in place, and crawl across the bed with leaden limbs.

“There’s someone over there,” he says, pointing toward the Liar’s Den. “Do you think they’re players in Nocturne’s game?”

The casino is as dark and lifeless as ever, its once-scintillating structure now nothing more than a monstrous shadow on the other side of the street. People give it the wide berth of a cemetery, crossing the road to pass it by, avoiding looking at it as though doing so might curse them.

“Where?” I ask, stifling a yawn.

“There. Next to the main entrance,” Enzo says, pulling on one of the rings in his lower lip. He must have put all his jewelry back in while I was asleep—he can’t keep them out for long or his magic will close his piercings. I can’t help but notice how seeing them back in place fills me with an absurd sort of relief.

I follow his gaze to the massive double doors at the center of the casino’s facade. Sure enough, lurking in an alcove next to one of the decorative marble pillars is a familiar-looking pair of shadows. One tall and burly, one short and slight.

My stomach sinks.

“That’s Ostena Vesnes,” I tell him.

“Ostena who’s-it-what-now?” He frowns like I just sneezed directly on his face.

“She’s the woman who nearly beat me in Nic’s tournament.”

“She’s not in Nocturne’s game, is she?”