Chapter Text
The masquerade was the social event of the season, a veritable who’s-who of the rich and beloved in Trisgate’s social circles. The top of the social ladder mingled with the hanger-ons and the starry-eyed climbers, and relationships were formed and broken with a single look. Through it all, the hum of magic was thick in the air for those who were sensitive to it, making the music a bit sweeter, the lighting a bit warmer, and the lips a bit looser.
Felicia had never in her life felt so utterly out of her element.
You guys will charm your way in, have a fun night of dancing, Elyse had said as they made the plan. And well...if you happen to overhear something secret, no one could fault you for that. And if one of you happened to wander away from the dance floor, explore the mansion a bit more, maybe find something more...incriminating—then you just got lost looking for the exit, right? They’d all laughed about it, and Felicia and Marcus planned how they would sweep in and start putting together the pieces of this criminal underworld they knew was running the city. Marcus would sneak in the back to find what he could, and Felicia would dance and charm and keep them all distracted while learning their secrets, and then they’d head back home to celebrate their success.
The reality was much more complicated.
The event wasn’t exclusive—they’d been able to get in, after all—but there was a strong sense of connection, of shared history, among the guests. Felicia caught the furtive glances, the whispered conversations on the sidelines, the handshakes that seemed a touch too firm.
And at the center of it all, their charming host: Claude Volkan. Beloved socialite and philanthropist, CEO of the largest hospital system in Trisgate. And, if their suspicions were correct, one of the top ringleaders of the crime and corruption and trafficking that rotted the city from the inside out. Beneath his dazzling smiles and piercing gaze, he was a predator, and she and Marcus would be his prey in an instant if they made a wrong move.
Through the dancing and drinking of the night, she was constantly aware of where he was in the room, who he was talking to, like a beacon subtly drawing her gaze at all times. How many of the people there knew who their host truly was? How many were involved in that dark underworld right alongside him? She couldn’t keep her eyes from searching through the crowd, her mind wandering through endless possibilities of loyalties and alliances and betrayals.
Marcus cleared his throat at her side, and she jumped.
“You could at least try to look like you’re having fun,” he said with a small smile. They were taking a break from mingling, leaning against the wall of the ornate ballroom together. To all the world, they looked like a young couple out for a night of luxury, Felicia with her elegant gown, Marcus with his crisp suit, their plain masks a perfect matching pair.
She sighed. “I just can’t stop my mind from running through—everything. We’re so close to so many people, but we just don’t know.”
“Soon we will know.” Marcus’s tone was overly-casual, belied by the tension in his posture.
She glanced sideways at him. “Are you nervous?”
“No.” His response came much too quickly. “Why? Do I look nervous?” He held his champagne flute in a stiff grip, and his other hand fidgeted constantly with his mask.
“A little,” she admitted. Setting aside her own drink, she took his free hand in both her own. “Just relax. I won’t let anyone get to you.”
He smiled at her comfort, but his eyes still scanned the room warily. “I should do it now.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
“You should do it now,” she agreed. They’d been here long enough, and she didn’t want to push their luck. She was sure they already stood out like the impostors they were, a pair from the run-down East Side, playing pretend at a night of elegance and class. The sooner they could finish what they came here for and leave without attracting attention, the better.
Giving her hand a final quick squeeze, Marcus detached himself from her and made his way across the room. She watched as he vanished into the throng of dancers, then settled herself back against the wall to keep an eye on the crowds. As long as Marcus was uninterrupted, he would be able to finish up within twenty minutes or so. Then they would just mill around for just a bit longer, smile, act charming, maybe take another one of those cute little finger sandwiches. They’d be out within the hour with what they needed, and no one else would know.
She hoped so, at least.
Still primed to pick up on anything off within the crowds of partygoers, Felicia’s gaze was drawn once again to Volkan across the room. He was frowning, looking towards the secluded back hallway where Marcus had slipped off to. Then he set down his glass of champagne and made his way through the guests towards that hallway.
I can’t let him find Marcus. She propelled herself across the floor before she could fully decide what she was going to say, nearly colliding with Volkan in her haste to reach him. He stopped short before her, and his eyes flicked towards the hallway, frustration briefly written across his face before he smoothed his expression over.
“My lady, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” he said, extending a hand in greeting, once again the charming host. “I am Claude Volkan. So lovely of you to join us tonight.”
Felicia took his hand in an eager shake, quickly deciding how she was going to play this. We’re a pair of social climbers, wide-eyed at our first real gala, overcome with the glitz and glamour of the rich and famous around us. She let a bit of breathless wonder creep into her tone as she said, “I’m Fern. Fern Hayes. It’s wonderful to meet you at last.”
He smiled at that, but his gaze was already drifting to the hallway again. “Likewise, I’m sure.” He was distracted, already beginning to gently move past her. “I’m sorry, Fern, but I must excuse myself.”
She was losing him. She couldn’t let him find Marcus searching the back halls, away from the safety of the public eye. “Wait, please!” Her hand shot out to grab his arm, and he immediately froze. He turned to face her, so slowly, and she swallowed back a shudder at the change in his demeanor. He still had that charming smile on his face, but the muscles in his arm were tight with tension, and underneath his mask, his eyes were predatory.
Now I’ve become his prey.
“What do you need, Fern?” His voice was light, but she could see the steel in his gaze.
“I was—” Keep him occupied. “I was hoping you would honor me with a dance.”
He tilted his head, studying her as if seeing her for the first time. She was suddenly hyper-aware of how plain her mask and dress were compared to his own ornate outfit. His dark, piercing eyes were breaking through her carefully built layers of confidence to uncover Felicia, the scared young woman who was in way over her head. She swallowed and held his gaze.
“I would love to dance with you,” he said finally, extending a hand out to her in invitation. She took it and threaded her fingers with his as he began to lead them in a slow dance around the room. She braced herself back, attempting to keep some space between them, but he pulled her close against him with a warm gloved hand around her waist.
“Are you enjoying the ball, Fern?” The edge was gone from his voice, but she could still feel the way his hand gripped her waist a bit tighter than necessary. He can’t do anything to me here. We’re surrounded by witnesses. If an uncomfortable dance was all it took to keep Marcus safe, she would do so happily. She nodded in response to Volkan’s question, her head turned to the side, avoiding eye contact.
“Look at me,” he said, and, startled, she did. He was much taller, and she had to tilt her head to look up at him. He gazed down at her, lips slowly curving into a smile, and she was struck by the intensity in his eyes. “You’re so beautiful,” he said. “Who did you come here with tonight?”
Swallowing down her nausea at his tone, she tried to keep her own voice light. “My partner. Matthew. We...we’re so excited to be here tonight.” She was conscious of every shift of his grip on her, the way his body slid around hers as he led them, the tickle of his breath on her ear as he leaned closer to reply.
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting him.” The sounds of the crowds and the music around them seemed to dim as they continued to dance. Felicia tracked every change in his tone as if her life depended on it. “Is he not here now? I hope you’ll introduce us.”
“He stepped out for a smoke,” she said, her hand tightening its grip of his shoulder in an involuntary nervous twitch. She realized that their dancing had brought them far from the center dance floor, away from the insulation of the crowds. “He should be back any moment.” Please.
“I see. So what you’re telling me,” and there his voice shifted to something low, dangerous, “is that there is no one in this room who will miss you if you vanish.”
Her stomach dropped. “What—” Before she could even think to move, he dragged her into the shadows of a secluded alcove, hidden from the partygoers’ view. She tried to break free of his grasp, but he slammed her against the wall, his body pressing into hers and pinning her in place.
“What are you—” He cut her off with his hand over her mouth, her cries of protest muffled by his glove.
“You really think I don’t see what you two are doing,” he hissed, his hand pushing harder against her face, crushing her against the marble wall behind her. “You walk in with this wide-eyed innocent act, but you’re watching everyone like a hawk. You—” Her hands frantically pushed at him, grabbed at his arms, trying desperately to dislodge him. He caught both wrists in a single hand and slammed them against the wall above her head. “You throw yourself at me right as your partner goes searching through my private rooms, and you think I don’t notice?”
Every nerve in her body was screaming at her to get out, to get away from him, but his grip on her wrists was like a vice. She kicked out her legs wildly, and he crowded closer to her, pressing her legs against the wall with his own. His hand moved from her mouth and slid down her neck, coming to press against her collarbone as his face drew closer to hers. “You already lied to me about your name once,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll give you two more chances to tell me the truth.”
She knew the game was up, but she still had to try. She forced herself to look into his merciless eyes, allowing a scared tremor to creep into her voice as she answered. “I’m Fern. F-Fern Hayes. Please, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just wanted to dance.”
The slap caught her off guard, slamming her face to the side and leaving her cheek burning even with the impact softened by his glove. He grabbed her chin and wrenched her face back around to stare at him, and she was chiding herself, stupid, stupid to let it get this far, I shouldn’t have let us move away from the crowds, I shouldn’t have even let him anywhere near me…
But I can’t let him follow Marcus.
Volkan’s fingers were painfully tight on her face, a bruising grip that gave her no room to move. “We both know that’s not true,” he said, fingers digging into her chin. “Try one more time, and don’t lie again.”
She knew the innocent act wasn’t going to work, and his hands were bruising her chin and her wrists, and his body was pressing up against hers, overly hard and hot, and she snapped, throwing herself against him with all her strength. “Get off of me! Let me go!” She yelled, kicking her legs, slamming her head forward, screaming indiscriminately in hopes that someone, anyone, might come across their secluded alcove and interrupt whatever he had planned.
His hand clamped over her face again, this time crushing both her mouth and nose. She thrashed beneath him, struggling to breath, but he was immovable as stone. The sounds of the party were fading as her entire world became his hand smothering the breath from her, and his eyes boring into hers.
Just as her lungs began to ache, he released her. She sucked in a desperate breath, her knees shaking under her as she was held up by his other hand still pinning her wrists to the wall. He considered her wordlessly, and she felt a chill come over her at the subtle, dangerous shift in his demeanor. Before he had been angry, demanding, aggressive. Now his expression had shifted to something anticipatory, almost playful, as his eyes trailed over her body. It was as if somewhere in his mind, he had stopped seeing her as a rival to crush, and started seeing her as an object to enjoy.
“I’m perfectly happy to let your boy snoop around back there as long as he wants,” Volkan said, his voice low. “As long as I have something out here to keep me entertained.”
Her stomach dropped at his insinuation, and she renewed her struggles against the hand pinning her to the wall. “If you even think—”
“You’re going to stay quiet during this,” he said with a finger placed over her mouth in warning, “or I’ll just have to go back there and see what your friend is up to after all. We can be as loud as we want, back where no one will find us.”
I can’t let him do this to me. She nearly sobbed with the growing horror of what Volkan wanted, what he was going to take from her whether she let him or not. No plan was worth that. And yet even as she thought it, she realized, I can’t let him do this to Marcus.
How long had it been? It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes. Not enough time for Marcus to find what he needed. She felt paralyzed; she couldn’t let this happen, she couldn’t, but she needed to keep Marcus safe. Just a bit longer. She froze with indecision.
Volkan smiled at her silence. “See? You’re already learning.” He drew the glove off his free hand with his teeth, tucked it into his pocket. He brought his hand to her face again, his now bare thumb pressing against her cheek, and she flinched from the touch of his skin on hers. He caressed just beneath the edge of her mask. “Time to see what tonight’s entertainment looks like,” he murmured, and he gently lifted her mask from her face.
She said nothing as he studied her uncovered face. His fingers brushed her skin softly, following the spray of freckles, the curve of her cheekbone. Her heart was in her throat as he examined her, and she didn’t dare make a sound. He was being gentle, now. She shuddered to think of how he would be if he found Marcus, alone, somewhere he shouldn’t be.
Then his hand began to wander lower. He touched her neck, his thumb rubbing along her throat, a shadow of a threat. His fingers traced along her collarbone, feather-light, skimming her bare shoulders above the sleeves of her dress. His hand followed her curves lower, until it settled around her breast.
“Please,” she whispered, the word slipping out before she could stop herself.
“Oh.” His eyes lit up at that. “You can beg, if you want,” he said, his thumb rubbing her through the chiffon of her dress, “As long as you stay quiet.”
She bit her lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of any further reaction. He grinned and deepened the touch until she couldn’t hold back a small gasp. Satisfied, he continued exploring her, his hand brushing over her waist, her hip.
She was already tense with dread, barely able to breathe, but when he moved aside the folds of her dress and his hand found her bare leg beneath, she had to suppress a sob. His eyes never left hers as his hand slid up along the length of her thigh until it reached the edge of her underwear.
“Don’t,” she whispered, abandoning all thought of staying silent as she felt his fingers fretting the hem of the fabric. “Please.”
“You really thought this was just a game.” His fingers were brushing her lower lips now, through the thin fabric. “You wanted to...what? Dig up dirt on me, is that it? Like some plucky journalist?” The fingers were harsher, more insistent, and she instinctively tried to flinch away but there was nowhere to go. “This is what happens when you delude yourself into believing you’re in control.”
He pushed the fabric aside and forced two fingers inside of her.
Her knees buckled against the invasion, and for a moment she was only held up by his other hand pinning her wrists against the wall. She struggled to get her feet back under her as she was overcome by the pressure and the pain as he forced his fingers in deeper, harder. Unable to escape, she started babbling. “Stop, stop, don’t fucking touch—”
Her words were cut off as he pressed his mouth to hers in a bruising kiss. She gave a muffled cry as his tongue slid into her mouth and tried to bite down, but he withdrew just as suddenly. She was stunned, breathless
“No more talking,” he said, and he added a third finger.
She thrashed against him, fighting in earnest now, but he just pressed himself closer. His touch was not gentle. His fingers probed deeper, digging, scraping against her, painful. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing it to end, but that just made every other sensation jump to the forefront: his breath hot on her face, the crush of her wrists against the wall, her heart hammering in her chest, and above it all, sharp pain lancing between her legs like an ice pick stabbing deep inside her.
She opened her eyes to find his face inches from her, his eyes drinking in every flicker of reaction. He added a fourth finger.
She gave a pained gasp at the stretch, barely able to take it, and he groaned. “So this is why he brought you along,” Volkan growled in her ear. “A pretty little breakable thing to distract me until I use you up.” He laughed, a mirthless sound. “I guess it’s working.”
All of their grand plans of fighting corruption and taking down the criminals that had the city in their pockets felt so distant right now; all that mattered was Volkan in front of her, hurting her, his hand violating deeper and deeper within her. She couldn’t bring herself to care anymore about what Marcus found. She just needed this to end—
Abruptly, Volkan released her, withdrawing both hands and taking a step back. She sagged against the wall for a moment, willing herself not to fall to her knees in front of him. She caught her breath in shuddering gasps and her eyes started to flutter shut, but they flew open again at the distinct sound of a belt buckle.
Volkan was unzipping the front of his pants, he was—
No. Self-preservation took over, and she threw herself past him, aiming a fist at his face as she flew past. It connected, and she could’ve sworn she heard him laugh, but she didn’t stop to look. She remembered to pull her mask back over her face a bare second before she stepped back out onto the dance floor.
Away from the alcove, the party was continuing as if nothing had happened, as if her very sense of self hadn’t just been indelibly shifted. A passing couple danced by her with an odd glance up and down her body, and she realized how she must look, bursting into the room with her hair and clothes in a disarray, her chest heaving. She tried to calm her breathing, smoothing down her hair and shifting the folds of her dress with a desperate need to look okay.
The back of her neck prickled as she scanned the ballroom, praying that Marcus had already returned. With every second that passed, she expected to feel hands digging into her shoulders, grabbing her by the arms or the hair, pulling her back into that dark alcove where no one could help her. She clenched her fists until her nails dug into her palms, and that small prick of pain helped bring her back to herself. Then she blinked, and her eyes locked with Marcus’s across the room, dark with worry behind his mask.
She was across the floor and at his side in a heartbeat. As he reached out to her, she stopped just short of throwing herself at him, her heart suddenly racing and her skin crawling with the ghost of Volkan’s touch all over her.
Some part of him sensing her discomfort, Marcus pulled his hand back. “What were you—”
“Did you get it?” She asked, suddenly short of breath. The walls felt like they were closing in on her. “Did you get anything?”
He nodded, brow furrowed. “Yeah, but where—”
“We need to leave.” She almost felt guilty for cutting him off, but she knew she would break down the minute she had to face what had just happened. “Now. Please.”
He nodded again, more determined this time, and held out his arm for her. She took it after a moment’s hesitation. “Let’s go,” he murmured, guiding them towards the door. “It’s fine. We’re leaving.” Her grip on his arm was iron tight, her steps short and careful as she tried not to agitate the—the injury. The door was right there, framed with magic-warmed candlelight.
“Ah, Fern, there you are!”
Felicia froze as Volkan stepped from the crowd to block their path towards the door. He was pristine, seemingly untouched by what he had done, gloves back on his hands once again. The shadows of his face shifted in the light, and Felicia could almost convince herself she could see a bruise beginning to form on his cheek.
Volkan’s eyes swept over the pair, and Felicia felt smaller and more vulnerable than she ever had in her life. “Must you leave so soon? The night is young.”
She realized she still had Marcus’s arm in an iron grip, and she tried to force herself to relax. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from Volkan’s face, that cruel mouth that had pressed against hers, those eyes drinking in every bit of her suffering. She could feel it now. Maybe she was still in that dark alcove with him, alone.
“We’re leaving.” Marcus’s answer was brusque, bordering on rude, and it snapped her out of her trance.
“Then it was a pleasure meeting you both,” Volkan intoned with a slight incline of his head. Then he turned his attention on her. “Especially you, Fern. Thank you for a lovely dance.” He placed one hand on her bare shoulder and kissed the air near her cheek in a formal farewell, and her skin burned even with the fabric of his glove as a barrier.
Then he lingered near her ear a moment longer. “If I have you again,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, “I will never let you leave.”
Then he stepped back with a rueful smile, standing aside to let them pass. “Safe travels, then,” he said. “I hope to see you at the next event.”
***
Felicia’s heels pounded the pavement as she strode through the night, arms wrapped around herself against the crisp fall air. Her nails dug into her bare arms, sharper and deeper, almost enough to distract her from the hot pain that shot between her legs with every step. Somewhere behind her, she was vaguely aware of Marcus struggling to keep up, but she couldn’t even look at him yet. She was a breath away from collapsing into tears, and they weren’t safe yet.
Marcus caught up to walk alongside her, his hands moving to take his mask off. “Felicia, shouldn’t we grab a streetcar—”
“I just need to walk,” she snapped, harsher than she intended. “Don’t take your mask off yet.” They were still too close to the party, to him, and she had no idea who could be following them through the night.
Marcus fell into silence, and as they moved further from the overwhelming dazzle of the ball, she still felt something of the night lingering in the air around them. A faint trace of magic, something she might not have even noticed if she hadn’t been so hyper-aware of every sensation around her.
Of course. Why would Volkan bother sending a person to follow them, when a tracing charm would work just as well?
She stopped short on a stone bridge spanning one of the many canals of the city. The glow of lamplight cast long shadows along the cobblestone ground. No one else was around.
Marcus stopped next to her, looking out over the water. “Felicia—”
“I think he’s following us.” She swallowed hard and took a deep breath in, and there—she could feel the magic clinging to them like a perfume.
“Following us?” Marcus gripped the rail of the bridge with tight fingers and glanced over his shoulder, eyes scanning the empty streets around them.
“Magically. A tracing charm. It’s—we need to search ourselves.” She took a step back from the wall, fists clenched. “It’ll be something small, like the size of a coin. Check your pockets, anywhere anyone might have touched you.”
Deep down, she already knew Marcus wouldn’t find the charm on himself. She knew, with bitter certainty, that Volkan’s assault on her had been more than just a callous display of power. Hands all over her body, lips crushing hers, fingers probing deep—
She shook the thought away with a shudder and began checking herself for the charm. She traced her fingers through her hair, sifting through the delicate updo. Down along her skin where his touch had burned so fiercely, until she reached the edge of the dress’s neckline. She felt along the fabric covering her chest, a flush rising to her cheeks at the memory of his hand caressing. Her own hands drifted further lower in an unconscious reenactment of his touches, until she slid her hands under her skirt and began to feel around the volume of layered chiffon below.
There. Pressed into the waistband of her underwear—of course, of course, where else would it be—a small, sharp medallion, thrumming with magic at her touch. She detached it and pulled it out, held it up under the lamplight.
“Someone...stuck that on your dress?” Marcus asked, peering at the charm. “How did they even know to trace you?”
“He knew.” The medallion glinted dully in the light, and all at once she needed it gone. She flung it into the canal with all the force she could muster. A soft splash sounded in the quiet night.
And she sank to her knees and began to sob.
Every reaction, every emotion she had been clamping down on rose to the surface at once. Wrenching her mask from her face, she buried her eyes in her palms, her breathing sharp and fast. She was terrified, she was furious, she wanted to curl up as small as possible and never look at anyone ever again, she wanted to peel her skin off, she wanted to wipe the memory of Volkan’s smug, easy grin from her mind, she—
“Felicia?”
At Marcus’s voice she looked up, her face still damp with tears. He had taken his mask off too, and his eyes were open and honest. He knelt beside her, looking at her with compassion and concern, the polar opposite of the vicious desire and mockery she had seen in Volkan’s eyes.
“He hurt me,” she whispered.
Marcus reached out for her, then pulled his hand back at the last moment, still unsure. “What happened?”
“He…” He was going after you and I had to stop him any way I could. She couldn’t tell him that. Not yet. He would never forgive himself if he thought he had played any role in what happened. “We danced. He brought me over to this...somewhere off to the side, like an alcove, no one else could see us.”
Marcus’s brows knit with worry, and Felicia could see him already putting the pieces together. She hated it, suddenly, the thought of him speculating and imagining what had happened, and so her next words came out in a rush. “He confronted me and said he knew I was investigating him, and then he—” She drew up short, swallowed dryly, continued. “He hurt me. He...touched me.”
His eyes widened in comprehension, in horror. “He what?”
Suddenly self-conscious, she glanced down at her hands before forcing herself to look at Marcus again. “It...it was just his fingers.”
“Just?” For a moment Marcus looked ready to head right back to the party and confront Volkan there and then. A small part of her wanted him to. She wanted the entire world to know exactly who that man really was.
But that wasn’t how these things worked. And as she sat there studying Marcus’s expression, another problem dawned on her. “He saw my face,” she said, remembering. Let’s see what tonight’s entertainment looks like.
Marcus bit his lip with worry. They had always been so careful, all of them. They never let anyone see their faces, never even directly interacted with anyone they suspected of being involved in this dark underworld they wanted to tear apart. It was the only reason they had been able to do as much as they had without immediately being crushed.
“W-we’ll deal with that,” Marcus said, his voice shaking despite the confidence he tried to exude. “No one needs to know. It’ll be fine—”
“It won’t be fine,” she snapped, her voice rising in pitch. “He saw me, and he knows who I am and he’s not gonna let that get away—” The memories were rising again, his hands all over her, pressing harder, deeper, more painful. “I just—fuck, I’m sorry, I should’ve—”
“There’s no should’ve.” Marcus’s tone was stern, but then he softened. “Felicia, I—I’m so sorry. None of this is your fault. You know that, right?”
Some part of her knew that deep down. But it didn’t feel true at all, not now, when her mind kept running through a million things she could’ve done differently, anything that could’ve prevented...this.
She couldn’t change what had happened. But maybe they could still do something now.
“What did you get from them?” Her gaze on him turned steely.
He seemed taken aback by the sudden shift in tone. “I, uh—I mean, I heard some things, but listen, that doesn’t matter right now, you—”
“I need to know what you found.” She took his hand then in both of hers, allowing herself to feel the warmth of his skin, a touch that wasn’t hurting her. “Please.” I need to know that tonight was worth something.
He hesitated a moment, then began to talk. “All the doors back there were locked. Couldn’t even open them with the tricks Darya showed me. I think there was some magic fortifying whatever locks he had.” He shifted on the ground, moving closer to her. “But I heard a conversation...it was Becker, you know him, that fancy businessman? We knew he was involved in something shady. I don’t know who the other guy was, but they were discussing a trade of some sort.”
Felicia held her breath, hopeful. “A trade? With...Volkan?”
Marcus nodded. “Next week. Down by the southern docks. I don’t know what they’re trading, but it sounded pretty damn illegal.”
She squeezed his hand, focusing on this thread of hope he was giving her, and not on the terror and pain that still churned in the back of her mind. “So if we could get some pictures of this…”
Marcus drew his hand away suddenly, running it through his hair, nervous. “It sounds good, but I just—I don’t know if it’s safe. After...after what just happened.” He wasn’t looking directly at her anymore.
“We have to do it.” Felicia took his face and turned it to look at her, and there was fear in his eyes, but determination under the surface, too. She knew he was seeing the same look mirrored in her eyes. “Don’t you see? He’s trying to intimidate us, scare us away.” This is what happens when you delude yourself into believing you’re in control. “It means...it means we’re getting close to something he doesn’t want us to see.”
She stood then, holding her mask loosely in one hand, turning to look out over the waters of the canal once again. “This is what he does,” she said, forcing a confidence into her voice that she wasn’t entirely sure she felt, because she needed to believe this was possible. “He crushes everyone who gets too close to the truth, scares them all into silence.”
And she was scared. She was terrified. But she was angry, too. And Volkan would just keep doing this over and over with nothing stopping him if she gave in to that fear.
Marcus stood beside her, and she took his hand once again. “We can’t let him scare us,” she said. “We’re gonna blow his whole operation wide open.” She took a deep breath, and the cool night breeze dried the tracks of tears on her face.