BLOOD AND BONE | rewritten

16

The high heels of Delphinium's stilettos clicked as they connected with the asphalt in the cut-de-sac. The further the group travelled from the unmarked IMC vehicles, she more her back warmed under the soldiers' gazes. Almost as if they could sense the serrated blade-stolen from the Bereyski House kitchens-strapped under the long skirt of her dress.

The distant chatter was already audible from the mansion looming ahead. A few older couples walked ahead of them, the women in extravagantly designed gowns daintily holding the arms of their suited dates. Elite Riengan fashion was all vivid colors and flashy cuts to set them apart from the mundane lower classes, and this event was no different.

None of them had any idea Azarius Bryson had been spotted within the estate, plotting to murder its billionaire owner. Bryson certainly hadn't wasted any time since his escape.

Only the security team knew of the crew's presence, having called them as soon as rumors of Bryson's attendance began to sweep through the congregation. It was by sheer luck the gathering was in the wealthy southern hills just outside of Droghal, or they would never have made it in time. This event was only for the city's most prominent socialites, so security was undoubtedly high. It spoke to Bryson's threat level that they were not enough to apprehend him alone. But Delphinium knew they also wanted to make this takedown as discreet as possible; if any of the guests caught wind of an active assassin in their midst, alarm would ensue. Bryson could evade them again.

The security team was pleased to see them approaching up the hedge-lined walk. The eight of them were permitted through the open front doors without a word.

Delphinium felt odd, dressed the way she was. The last time she attended a high-society gathering like this, she was in Bryson's place. And she'd been successful. She'd altered her features with cosmetics as she always did, painting on striking slashes of blue over her darkened lashes to draw attention from her rather notable natural appearance. Her hair-pinned up in a knot at the crown of her head and stuck with glittering pins-complimented the gray-blue gown the IMC hastily provided her. She did not look like herself.

Still, Delphinium's skin felt too tightly stretched across her bones as they entered through the gold-adorned foyer where a crowd of guests milled about. Their gazes on her, no matter how brief, made her feel like she needed to draw her blade.

While searching for all available exits, Delphinium inspected the entire sprawling place. As the owner, Sumida Park, was a young bachelor, the house was decorated in a traditionally masculine fashion, all dark wood paneling and geometric furniture as far as the eye could see. In the center of the open-walled sitting room to her left stood an abstract sculpture covered in metallic spikes. Sharp enough to impale someone if they were pushed just hard enough. Delphinium filed that away with the other makeshift weapons she spotted.

They pushed their way into the main space, where the party was in full swing. Here, the grouping of guests was the densest. Sipping champagne, they chatted away about the Vicar's latest scandal, their posh lives, whatever hot gossip they heard that day. Blissfully ignorant.