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CHAPTER ONE ▪▫▪▫▪
HER RING ONLY FIT ONLY fit on her pinky finger by now.
And after years of practice Kira had become a master at dancing around the truth, waltzing with deception and misdirection and doing the minute with allure—but at no point did lying step into the dance floor (sometimes lying managed to get a foot onto the dancefloor before she could stop some sort of sarcasm to leave her lips); but purposely she did not lie. Not in words anyway
Every time she talked her way out of trouble or charmed secrets out of people who were more than keen to confide in the golden-haired girl that smiled sweetly at them, Kira felt pride swell up inside her. She was proud because she knew her brother would be proud. He had always been the one with the talent to charm his way out of trouble and now Kira was using the talent she found within herself to keep in touch with the only part of her past she still missed.
It was safe to say that anything else had been burned to ashes in her memories.
With the years, Kira was also proud to say her skills of controlling metals (ones she did not call by their true name) were far better. To the point she could fly. Literally. It took her years to perfect that skill, but after welding metal onto the soles of her boots, she was able to hover above the ground, walk safely through the slippery roofs of Ketterdam and with a bonus of being able to hurt anyone with a kick.
Something she was glad to put to test as she felt a shiver down her spine, as a cold blade was pressed against her throat and her head was pulled back harshly, causing her to gasp.
"You better not do anything rash, my hand might slip," a voice warned her, and Kira grimaced.
"Did Rollins send you?" Kira asked, her jaw clenched, preparing herself to throw the man off her at any moment.
"He did," the man said, mocking her, and that was enough.
Kira willed the knife pressed against her throat to be thrown away, making it hit the wall and stay there, just as she threw her head backwards, a cracking noise echoing through the abandoned house she had claimed as hers as his nose was broken.
Yanking the knife off the wall, Kira kicked the man in the groin as he tried to lunge at her, making him double over with a groan and fall on the rotting wooden floors of her living room. She used her foot to kick him back so he lay on the floor and put one foot atop his chest, tilting her head as he groaned when she put pressure on it.
The man looked scared. Good. He was wearing a three piece suit, and his mustache was neatly groomed which told her, Pekka Rollins was getting desperate. He was sending his best men to get her and they still managed to lose—all because they underestimated her.
"I figured that three dead bodies were enough of a warning," Kira said lightly, spinning the blade on her hand as she applied weight to her foot and grinned at the sound of his ribs cracking. The man screamed. "I guess one more can't hurt."
