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God of Ruin (Legacy of Gods, #4)(4)

Author:Rina Kent

My blood boils and it takes every ounce of my control not to jump for his throat and claw his eyes out.

Stay patient, Mia. Everything is sweeter in its own time.

Maya and I exchange a look, our twin hunch activating at the same time, and we nod at each other.

We slip between the party people who are too mesmerized, by whom I assume are the club leaders, to notice us.

For the first time in forever, I’m thankful for the darkness. Maya and I go unnoticed all the way to the designated hallway.

While it’s true that getting invited to an Elites party is a highly selective process, gaining access to the mansion they use as a compound isn’t as hard.

Especially since I’m friends with someone who lives here.

Not sure he’ll still consider me a friend after I’m done with his asshole of a brother, but, hey, he knew I would never forgive him for kidnapping Niko and, in retrospect, causing his injury.

Someone needs to teach that bastard a lesson, and what am I if not a Good Samaritan?

Since I had access to the mansion yesterday, I managed to stack our weapon of destruction within the party’s main event.

All we have to do is go up and hit the button for all hell to break loose.

But before we can do that, we have to make sure what I planted is still in place.

To do that, Maya will check the power supply and I need to reach the trigger button.

There’s no need for any communication outlet because we’re the type of twins who feel each other no matter what.

If everything is all right, I’ll get a hunch before I push the button.

We slide our palms against each other and tap the back of our hands together in our special shake, then part ways.

I reach the second floor, and since everyone is busy with the pretentious assholes, I don’t encounter any of the invitees. But there are definitely guards and cameras, which is why I’m pretending to go to the bathroom.

Once I’m there, however, I hop on the sink and remove the vent cover, jump into the airway, and close it behind me. I’m slim enough to fit. Once I’m inside the tight space, I breathe deeper and start crawling.

You’re going to be all right, Mia.

This is not that place from ten years ago.

You’re just serving justice for Niko.

I’m so close to relapsing into my illogical panic, but I don’t. It takes me about five minutes to get to the other end. By the time I reach my destination, I’ve inhaled more dust than a vacuum and I’m sweating like a pig.

I slowly open the vent cover and once I listen in to make sure there’s no one in this bathroom, I maneuver my way out until I land on the sink, then jump to the floor.

Phase one. Done.

Maya should’ve gotten to the other side by now. She doesn’t need to do any jumping or crawling. Nor can I ever convince her to ‘lower’ her ‘sublime’ status.

She probably just needs to flirt with a guard if she encounters one.

I tap my mask to make sure it’s in place, then check my reflection in the mirror, smooth my hair, and dust my dress. Once I’m satisfied with my look, I exit the men’s bathroom. Anyone could walk in and ask what I’m doing here, but oh well, even if I’m caught, I’ll pretend that I got here by mistake.

All I have to do is reach the control panel at the corner and activate the timer.

The moment I’m out the door, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

However, before I can turn around and inspect the source of the intrusion, I’m pushed back inside the bathroom with a blinding force.

I’m too disoriented to focus, let alone try to stop the inhuman, raw power I’m handled with.

My back hits the wall and I groan, then lift my hand, ready to flip whoever it is a thousand fingers while kicking them.

All my plans come to a halt when my gaze clashes with dark-blue eyes.

Familiar eyes.

The eyes of my enemy and the target of my revenge.

Landon fucking King.

2

MIA

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This isn’t part of the plan.

In fact, it’s so far away from the plan that I can hear meticulously laid-out scenarios crash like broken china.

I’m standing in front of none other than the Landon King. A charming god, a genius sculptor, and, most importantly, an insufferable bastard.

His hand squeezes my upper arm, pressing it against the wall with a power that renders me immobile.

My lips clamp together even as condensation covers the interior of the mask. Sweat trickles in the valley between my breasts and glues the dress to my back.

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