Delilah lit a cigarette in the west wing lounge, even though she knew it was banned.
Let them complain.
She inhaled deeply, legs crossed over the velvet armrest like a queen in exile. The paper in her hand was more intoxicating than the smoke—Damien’s kill list. Or what she liked to call leverage.
Valencia’s name.
Right at the top.
She smiled.
So much for loyalty.
Meanwhile, Valencia walked the corridors like she owned them. And maybe, once, she did.
But now?
The walls whispered things she didn’t like.
Elira was no longer weak.
Damien was no longer distracted.
And Delilah?
Delilah was no longer on a leash.
She found her in the lounge, smoke curling around her.
“You know that’s forbidden,” Valencia said.
Delilah smirked. “So are you.”
Valencia approached slowly, sitting opp
