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Y/N hated parties, especially the fancy ones Sylus always dragged her to. The glitz and glamour, the false smiles and insincere laughter—they made her skin crawl. She stood in front of the golden mirror, holding up two dresses, her reflection showing the uncertainty in her eyes. The first dress was a sleek black number, elegant and modest yet the second was a wine-coloured sheath dress, more daring and bold. She sighed, torn between the two.
The door creaked open, and Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. Sylus leaned against the door frame, his usual smirk playing on his lips. His eyes roamed over her with a possessive glint,
“The wine-coloured one,” he said, his voice smooth and confident. “I like it.”
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Of course, you would pick that one,” she muttered under her breath. Despite her reluctance, she couldn’t deny the allure of his choice. It was as if the dress was made to accentuate her every curve. She turned her back to him, slipping into the dress, feeling the smooth fabric glide over her skin. She adjusted it, before stepping back to the mirror.
Sylus pushed himself from the door frame and walked towards her, his footsteps lightly tapping the wooden floor. He stopped just behind her. His reflection in the mirror showed a man who was used to getting what he wanted. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close. “You look stunning,” he whispered in her ear, his breath hot against her skin.
A shiver ran down her spine as he pressed a soft kiss to her neck, his lips lingering with an intimacy that made her feel her knees weak. A light moan escaped her lips before she could stop it, she cursed herself inwardly.
His chuckle was low and satisfied. “I knew you’d like it,” he murmured, his hand sliding up to rest on her waist. “You always look beautiful, but tonight... tonight you’ll truly be the star of the night.”
Y/N’s eyes met his in the mirror, a hint of frustration “I don’t care about being the star, Sylus. We’re here for a job, remember?”
He smirked, “Of course sweetie. But it doesn’t hurt to enjoy ourselves a little along the way.”
She took a deep breath. This was more than just a party. It was a mission. She pushed aside the conflicting emotions that Sylus always stirred in her, focusing on the task at hand.
“Let’s get this over with,” she said, her voice steady.
Sylus gave her a final, lingering kiss on the neck before stepping back, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “After you, my kitten,” he said, gesturing for her to link his arm.
The two left Sylus's lavish home, the grand doors closing behind them with a soft thud. Outside, the night air was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the warmth inside. Sylus casually tossed his car keys to two masked men, Luke and Kieran, who stood by the sleek, black car. Luke, his eyes bright behind the mask, nodded enthusiastically. "You look great, boss!" he chirped.
Sylus chuckled, his smirk deepening as he moved to the passenger side, opening the door for Y/N. With a gentlemanly flourish, he offered her his hand, helping her into the car. Once Y/N was settled inside, Sylus gently closed the door and turned to the two men. His demeanour shifted, becoming more serious, his voice dropping to a firm command. "Make sure nothing happens to her," he ordered.
The men straightened, their nods sharp and respectful. "Yes, boss," they responded in unison, their masked faces solemn.
Satisfied, Sylus walked around the car and slid into the back with Y/N. He glanced at her, his expression softening slightly. As the car purred to life and they drove off into the night, Y/N couldn't shake the nerves she felt. Sylus gently grabbed her hand, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles on the back of her hand.
As they arrived at the grand party, Sylus stepped out of the car first, extending his hand to help Y/N out with ease. She accepted his hand, gracefully emerging from the car while subtly checking that her pistol was still securely hidden under her skirt. Sylus did a quick, discreet pat on his blazer to ensure his weapon was in place. They linked arms and headed to the entrance.
The luxurious hall was adorned with expensive paintings and grand chandeliers that created a golden glow in the hall. Waiters and waitresses moved smoothly through the crowd, carrying trays of fine wine and exotic cheeses for the elegantly dressed guests who flooded the hall. As the two entered, the murmur of conversation ceased, replaced by a collective gasp of shock. Heads turned, eyes widened, and whispers rippled through the room, yet Sylus and Y/N walked with unwavering confidence, ignoring the reactions. At the end of the hall, a man sat regally in a high-backed chair, his smirk widening at the sight of Sylus.
“Here for the Protocore?” he grinned, his eyes glinting with intrigue.
Sylus gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable. Y/N, sensing the tension, gripped his arm tighter.
The man rose, leading them to a secluded room with rich velvet walls and leather chairs. The air inside was thick with the presence of numerous bodyguards, their eyes trained intently on the newcomers. Sylus and Y/N moved to sit on one of the plush sofas, but Sylus had other plans. With a firm but gentle tug, he pulled Y/N into his lap, his arm wrapping possessively around her waist. She tensed for a moment before relaxing.
The man who had led them there took a seat across from them, leaning back comfortably, his eyes never leaving Sylus’s. “I see you’ve brought company, never thought I’d see the day the great onychinus with a partner,” he remarked his tone light but with an underlying edge.
Sylus’s grip on Y/N’s waist tightened slightly, his fingers brushing reassuringly against her.
The man’s smile widened, but his eyes were calculating. “Well then, let’s get down to business. This protocore is a unique item, not easily acquired or handled.”
Sylus’s gaze was steady, as he nodded.
As negotiations began, the room seemed to grow more tense, the air thick with anticipation. Y/N remained on Sylus’s lap, her body attuned to every shift in his posture, every nuance of his voice.
Y/N spoke up, her voice clear and authoritative. "May we see the Protocore?"
The man's eyes widened slightly in surprise, then flicked to one of his men. "Um, of course," he replied, trying to maintain his composure.
One of the bodyguards stepped forward, carrying a dark briefcase. He set it down on the table between them, the room growing even more silent with anticipation. Y/N leaned forward, her fingers clicking the case open. Inside, the Protocore lay nestled in velvet, yet something looked off.
Y/N's trained eyes quickly scanned the device, noting subtle inconsistencies. Her heart raced as she realized it was a fake. She leaned closer to Sylus, her lips brushing against his neck as she whispered, "It's a fake."
Sylus’s grin widened, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "I know, Kitten," he murmured back, his voice a blend of amusement and menace.
The man across from them noticed their exchange, a flicker of unease crossing his face. "Is something wrong?" he asked, his tone attempting to remain casual.
Sylus leaned back, his hand still securely around Y/N’s waist. "Yes, something is wrong," he replied smoothly, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. "You seem to have brought us a counterfeit."
The man's composure faltered for a moment before he forced a smile. "There must be some mistake," he said, trying to sound convincing. "I assure you, this is the genuine protocore."
Before the man could continue, Sylus deftly slid the pistol from Y/N's skirt and pointed it directly at the man. The room's temperature seemed to drop as the tension skyrocketed. "This was a pathetic attempt of a trap, wasn't it?" Sylus's voice was a deadly whisper, his finger lightly resting on the trigger.
The man grimaced, his façade of civility vanishing. "You think you can take on me? There are fifteen highly trained men here. All you have is yourself and your harlot."
Y/N’s eyes narrowed a cold fury sparking within her.. The man’s words hung in the air, a challenge that only deepened Sylus’s smirk.
"Fifteen men," Sylus mused, his tone deceptively calm. "Is that supposed to impress me? You underestimate me."
With a swift motion, Y/N reached into Sylus’s blazer and revealed his pistol, aiming it at the nearest bodyguard. Her movement was fluid and practised, the result of countless hours of training. "I’d think twice before making threats you can’t back up," she said, her voice icy and unwavering.
Sylus’s smirk turned lethal. Without warning, he aimed his gun and fired, the bullet finding its mark in one of the bodyguards. The sharp crack of the gunshot echoed in the room, causing the rest of the guards to spring into action. Y/N jumped from Sylus’s lap, her movements a blur of precision and grace. She took down the first bodyguard with ease, her pistol firing with deadly accuracy.
The room descended into chaos as the two fought back to back. Each shot from his gun was a calculated strike, each movement a deadly dance, he didn’t even need to use his evol. A bodyguard lunged at Y/N, but she sidestepped smoothly, delivering a quick, incapacitating blow to his temple. Another guard aimed at Sylus, but he was too slow; Sylus fired, the guard collapsing to the ground. They moved in perfect sync.
In mere minutes, the room fell silent once more, the bodyguards sprawled on the floor, either unconscious or worse. Sylus and Y/N turned their attention back to the man who had orchestrated the trap. He cowered against the wall, his eyes wide with terror, his bravado shattered.
Sylus walked towards him slowly, his gun still in hand. The man pressed himself against the wall as if trying to meld into it, his earlier arrogance replaced with palpable fear.
"Please," he begged, his voice trembling. "It was just a mistake, I swear. I didn’t know—"
Sylus cut him off with a cold laugh. "A mistake? You thought you could double cross onychinus?"
Y/N moved to stand beside Sylus, her eyes cold and unforgiving. "You had your chance," she said, her voice steady.
The man fell to his knees, clutching at Sylus’s leg in desperation. "I’ll give you anything you want! Money, connections—just spare me!"
Sylus looked down at him, his expression one of disdain. "We already have everything we need," he said. "What we don’t have is time for traitors."
With a final glance at Y/N, who gave a slight nod, Sylus delivered a swift, decisive strike with the butt of his pistol, knocking the man unconscious.
Y/N exhaled slowly, the adrenaline of the fight still thrumming through her veins. "What now?" she asked, her eyes meeting Sylus’s with exhaustion.
Sylus’s smirk returned, but this time it was softer, almost playful. "We never got to dance together in your gorgeous dress."
Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a half-amused, half-exasperated smile. “You’re impossible,” she said, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her grin.
With a theatrical sigh, she linked her arm back with Sylus’s, allowing him to guide her towards the awaiting dancehall. Sylus’s smirk widened, clearly pleased with her response.
As they approached the hall, he grasped her waist and held her hand, Sylus turned to her, his expression both affectionate and mischievous. "Come on, Kitten. The night’s not over yet."