Maya releases an exasperated sound as we ditch our bags. “You better protect it with your life. Actually, since this is a special edition Hermes and is, therefore, worth more than your life, lose it and I’ll use your skin as my new bag. Capisce?”
The man shows no reaction to her dramatics, and I grab her arm and then basically push her inside a dimly lit hallway.
“You just made him take note of us,” I sign discreetly. “What happened to our plans about blending in, idiot?”
“Excuse you. My bag is worth more than this mission.”
“Are you telling me a bag is worth more than getting revenge for our brother?”
“Well, since he can get that himself—which he should’ve by now, but I’m not sure why he hasn’t—I think…yes?”
“Maya!”
“What? I had to pull strings to get that bag.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have brought it on a night like this?”
“It’s my lucky bag. Of course I’m bringing it to your suicidal mission.”
“I have everything planned. It’s not suicidal.”
“It will be when Niko finds out.”
I wince at the thought of our older brother, Nikolai, catching a whiff of this. Pissed off is going to be the milder reaction.
Maya's eyes twinkle behind the mask with a mischievous grin. “He’ll skin us alive.”
I lift my chin. “Don’t care. I’ll deal with him once I’m done with our revenge.”
Our conversation comes to a slow halt as we exit the hallway and find ourselves in a main hall.
Huge chandeliers hang from the high ceilings, illuminating a glittery interior, marble flooring, and ornate pillars.
All the attendees wear masks similar to ours and are dressed up in fitted tuxedos and elegant party gowns. I definitely look the least sophisticated of the bunch, while Maya blends right in.
“I told you so,” she whispers in my ear in reference to her earlier suggestion that I wear a showier dress.
I elbow her side, but she only laughs in mock reaction.
If she weren’t my sister, I would’ve kicked her in the face a long time ago.
We each grab a drink from a passing waiter, but I don’t take a sip. One, I’d have to lift my mask, and I’d rather not reveal anything about my identity. Two, I’m such a lightweight that even a beer can get me tipsy. So I only pretend to drink while keeping my attention on the people mingling about.
Some of them are dancing to unknown classical music like they’re a bunch of middle-aged couples. Others are talking and laughing at what I’m sure are boring topics.
The subject of my revenge, who should be somewhere in the middle of the charade, isn’t here.
“Do you see him?” Maya signs, as is our habit whenever we don’t want someone to eavesdrop on us.
I shake my head.
My foot taps on the floor in a manic rhythm. This is bad.
That asshole is the star of the show, so unless he shows his ugly self, our plan is practically null and void.
All of a sudden, the lights dim. My eyes adjust to the darkness, but I can only see shadows and silhouettes of other attendees.
My spine jerks upright and my manic tapping comes to a halt, mainly because the panic is too great to be contained by mere tapping.
Sweat trickles down my spine and the rotten stench of mold invades my nostrils.
I’m not going back there…I’m not…
“Hey.” Maya’s soft voice fills my ears as she wraps an arm around my shoulders. “It’s going to be okay. You’re not alone, Mia.”
I stare into her eyes, which are identical and yet somehow different from mine. As the seconds tick by, my breathing slows back to normal.
She’s right. I’m not alone, and I’m definitely not back in that humid, dark place from ten years ago.
I flash her a tentative smile because I’m so thankful for having her, but at the same time, I’m so ashamed of my weakness.
My inability to get my shit together even after all this time.
Every year, I say this is the year I get over it, but so far, I haven’t had any luck.
“I’m okay,” I sign, then force myself to focus on the scene.
Sure enough, a few newcomers dressed in gowns and tuxedos walk in as if they not only own the place, but also expect everyone in it to worship at their feet. They’re wearing luxurious masks and are holding their noses in the air as if it’s their mission to judge the world.
Our target is in their midst.
No doubt about it.
In fact, he’s probably the one in the middle who has one hand in his pocket and the other hanging nonchalantly at his side.