The Bastard's Blade

Chapter 3

‎‎The Sias Lounge was a cage of crystal and gold, teeming with the city’s elite—and every single one of them was a predator. I smoothed the silk of my gown, feeling the cold weight of the silver revolver strapped to my thigh. My heart raced and my ribs felt tight, but I kept my face as frozen as ice.

‎Across the ballroom, stood Smart Vane in the center of a servile circle, looking every bit like the king he pretended to be. He hadn't seen me yet. I caught Charlotte’s figure by the balcony; she wasn't looking at the crowd. Her eyes were fixed on me, a silent conductor waiting for the first note of a tragedy.

‎I pushed through the crowd, the smell of expensive cigars and desperation gathered in the air. As I stepped into his line of sight, the circle around my father went silent.

‎"Vera," he said, his voice carrying that familiar, dismissive edge. He didn't offer a hug or even a smile. He just looked at me up and down like a piece of trash . "I heard you were playing soldier with the Salvators. I assumed you’d be dead or begging for a way back by now."

‎"I'm not here to beg, Smart," I said, my voice steady despite the desperations

‎screaming in my veins. "I’m here to give you the one thing you never gave me: a "legacy."

‎The room seemed to shrink. I felt the gaze of Charlotte’s hidden "eyes" on my back, and my father’s hand drifted toward his blazer.

‎"You’re bold for a girl who failed her first assignment," he said with disgust, stepping closer until I could smell the gin on his breath. "The armory shipment? My men are dead because of you."

‎"Your men are dead because you’re outmoded," I whispered, leaning in so that only he could hear. "And Charlotte wants you to know that the 'bastard' sends her regards."

‎His eyes widened—not with anger, but with an iota of genuine fear. For the first time in my life, he truly saw me. And in that second, I realized Charlotte didn't just want him dead; she wanted him to know exactly who did it.