The footage vanishes one frame at a time, scrubbed clean as though the blonde girl and scary boy were never there. I lean back, flexing my fingers and blowing a curl out of my face.
"And that's the last one." I murmur, dragging the cursor over the final clip and pressing delete.
The side of my face still stings. It's almost healed, but not enough for me to forget.
Every second they remain a ghost in the system is another second my boss gets more agitated. Every second his underlings can't uncover who killed five of our men and destroyed their items, is a direct hit at his incompetence and his ability to handle this branch.
A humorless smile flickers across my lips as the monitor goes dark.
He hates being made a fool of. And the hot-headed higher-up in charge of this branch is already seething from daddy's pressure. He isn't the calmest of his brothers, but at least he isn't the golden prince.
Small mercies.
A shriek tears through the hallway outside the door. Screams are as common here as the stars above. Someone's probably drowning in acid, or dying slowly after being kissed by Charlotte's poisonous mouth. Maybe Rio's team is playing marbles with eyeballs again.
People get tortured here every day. Sometimes for information. More often for sport.
It's not fun for me. Not when the stench of charred flesh and coppery blood clings to the air, staining every breath I take. Not when some fool splatters their victim too close to me and ruins the crisp line of my white suits with arterial spray.
At least I won't have to endure that right now. The door's locked. For the moment, the screams stay on the other side of the wall.
"Why are you protecting them? You don't even know who they are."
Crystal snaps her fingers, and scraps of paper lift themselves from the floor. They twist, crease, and fold in the air until a delicate crown forms. It drifts lazily over to the unconscious man sprawled across the chair, settling on his head like some mock coronation.
He doesn't stir. Not even when the paper creations blanket him, weaving across his face and chest. The sedatives I slipped him are stronger than I thought.
"I don't." I answer her at last. "But I need a favor from them. Especially the boy." My eyes drop to the ring circling my finger. Even after so many years, it still maintains it's beauty. "It'll be very important for what I have planned. But until then," I exhale slowly, the weight of every secret pressing against my ribs, "No one must know about their existence. Or what the boy did."
Crystal tilts her head, paper scraps still orbiting her fingers. "And what if they end up captured?"
My hand freezes mid–motion, the ring half–turned around my knuckle. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to think much about it.
"If they're caught, the higher–ups will tear them apart like livestock. And my plans will die with them."