Page 16 of A Sweet Destruction

Not enough to wake, but just enough to lift out of deep sleep. The opening of one eye, testing to see if the sun had risen.

I shoved it back into the darkness, refusing to acknowledge it. That seemed like a good plan.

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.

The word repeated in my head as I trotted along with Sky, keeping watch on the ground for any branches or twigs that could have him tripping, even though his vision was better than mine.

I didn’t want children. I’d raised myself, and that was enough.

I had Sky and Shadow, and I was content to mother them.

And it was certainly the instincts of an overprotective mother that had me watching his steps as we crested the hill that protected our camp and officially stepped over into enemy territory.

Not that I’d ever thought of it like that. I’d felt safer running through the fields of Muli than I did in the home I grew up in—not that it was much of one.

Still, Peter would likely be furious with me if he knew I was sneaking off alone. I just wanted to look, to see for myself what had happened.

Surely, if there was that blatant of an attack on us, Pax wouldn’t go unaffected.

It made sense that the leaders of the largest—well, only—smuggling operation between Muli and Vir would want to snoop around their stock to see if their network was crumbling.

Right as the thought crossed my mind, the distant lights of the barn that housed Pax’s bar came into view, flickering softly in the moonlight.

The first though that popped into my head was Roger’s well being. The sweet, soft man who owned that barn. Once apart of an isolated farm far into Muli’s wild and free rurals, now turned into a bar that helped soldiers relax from the stressors of war.

Roger had become a very, very rich man over the years, and yet you’d hardly know it. He lived a humble life, choosing to send the money he earned back to Muli’s capital. I wasn’t sure where it went, seeing as he was notoriously tight-lipped about the sore spots in Muli’s society.

All I knew was that Roger could have lived like a king if he wanted to. Just the cut he got from our trade, his payment for housing most of our goods in the cellar under his barn, was enough to fund a lavish lifestyle ten times over.

At least someone was reaping the benefit. Ford and I both had stores set aside, but it was hard to do much with the money we technically earned from our smuggling operation when our accounts were monitored with a careful eye back on Vir.

That was the only way we’d gotten this idea approved. Spying by way of borderline illegal—well, fully illegal—activity, so long as we didn’t actually take a cut of any earnings.

And people wondered why I cared so much about my jewelry. I could buy a house in the wealthiest part of Florus with just the necklaces circling my throat.

Just then, my hand clenched in Sky’s reins, the thin rings that sat stacked on each finger biting into my skin.

Delicious, distracting pain that pulled focus away from the ache in my chest.

It took everything in me to keep Sky moving at a gentle pace, avoiding the crashing sound of hooves on the ground.

What felt like ages later, we made it to the barn. There wasn’t a soul in sight, though the lights were on. What ghastly change from the boisterous music and free laughs I’d come to expect.

Even Sky sensed something was wrong, shifting under me uncomfortably. He kept looking back towards the trees, like he was debating making a break for it and hoping I got my shit together fast enough to jump onto his back before he left me in the dust.

After several seconds of soft cooing to get him settled, I finally stepped down off the saddle and made to move away from him.

I kept my hand on the gun at my hip, poised to whip it out with the barest notice. It wouldn’t do well to take it out now. For all I knew, there was a trigger happy sniper in the woods who would blow my head off if they saw the silhouette of an intruder with a gun.

Inching towards the south wall of the barn, I lingered by a patch of wood I knew was weathered and worn and notorious for letting sounds slip through. I paused for a few moments, hearing nothing more than the shuffling of shoes over dusty ground and the occasional rattle of a crate.

Roger was probably just cleaning up for the night.

Right as I was about to take a few steps forward, another sound, a little more distant, caught my attention.

There was a distinct click the kind that came from an expensive boots, rather than the sturdy sound the leather heel of a riding boot made.

I didn’t have any time to investigate, because at that very moment the hairs on my arms rose and a spark of awareness shot down my spine, sending heated panic spilling into my stomach.