The world came back in sharp and breathless fragments that stabbed at Lili senses. She stirred against unfamiliar silk sheets, the scent of expensive incense clinging to the air, mixing with the sterile bite of alcohol and something faintly floral, almost mocking. She was no longer in her house. She knew that immediately. The silence here was thicker, deeper. Controlled.
She blinked up at a high ceiling with hanging crystals that refracted dim amber light in delicate, shifting patterns across the walls. Just the subtle thrum of power beneath the elegance, like something dangerous coiled here.
This was Dotina’s home—not the public-facing beauty empire with its sculpted masks and gilded smiles. This was the real place. The core. The web. Her hideout, where only the most trusted—or the most broken—were ever brought. And Lili hated that she was here.
Her shoulder throbbed beneath fresh bandages, the pain dulled but ever present. Someone had stitched her up again. Better than she had. But it was still her body. Still her fight. And now, someone else had seen her broken like this.
She tried to sit up and winced with teeth clenched. The weakness wasn’t gone. The shadows still stirred under her skin like they knew time was bleeding out.
A rustle of movement drew her eyes across the room. Dotina stood near a sleek black cabinet, pouring herself a glass of something that shimmered like honey but smelled like poison.
“You woke like someone barely pulled halfway from a death,” she said without turning. Her voice was calm, unhurried.
Lili managed a hoarse sound—something between a scoff and a cough. “You always talk like that, or are you just performing for your men?”
Dotina turned then, glass in hand, her lips curved in that unreadable smile that never quite reached her eyes. “They’re not here. I thought you’d prefer it that way.”
She approached, heels whispering against the polished floor, and offered the glass. Lili didn’t take it. Dotina shrugged and sipped it herself.
“You’ve been burning up for two days,” she said, sitting gracefully at the edge of a low chair. “And when you weren’t convulsing, you were muttering things in your sleep that I don’t think you’d want anyone else hearing. Especially not your charming employers.”
Lili looked away.
“I patched you because I owed you. And because I don’t like seeing someone like you reduced to ruin by amateurs.” Dotina’s gaze sharpened. “But don’t mistake this for mercy, Lili. I didn’t bring you here to save you. I brought you here to see how far you’d fallen.”
The words hit harder than the searing pain in her shoulder. Lili finally forced her eyes back to Dotina, every breath tasting of pride. “And?” she rasped. “Do I disappoint you?”
Dotina smiled slowly again. “No,” she said. “You fascinate me.”
Lili let out a breath, half laugh, half sigh of dread. “Just great…” she muttered, her voice dry and low. “That’s exactly what I need. Another cryptic fan.”
Dotina rose from her seat with the smoothness of someone used to controlling every room she entered. She strolled to the edge of the bed and casually traced a finger along one of the brass bedposts, as if admiring the cage she’d set.
“I heard some rumors,” she said, her tone light, but her eyes sharp. “Whispers of a storm bleeding into the streets. Of shadows that aren’t natural. Of someone in black leaving trails of fire and fear.”
Lili narrowed her eyes. “And that brought you to my house? Alone?”
Dotina arched a brow. “Do you really believe I’d come alone?”
A tense silence passed. Of course she didn’t.
Dotina’s gaze flicked over her, studying, dissecting. “Besides… I needed to see you for myself.”
And just like that, the air shifted.
Lili’s pulse ticked faster. It was confirmation—not spoken outright, but clear. Dotina had someone on the inside. Someone close enough to track Lili’s descent in real-time. Someone still watching, maybe even now.
“You really do have someone in the mafia,” Lili murmured. “Don’t you?”
Dotina’s smile widened, but she didn’t confirm. She didn’t have to. “Let’s not insult each other with denials,” she said, gently swirling her glass. “You’ve always known that I don’t just listen—I watch.”
Lili clenched her jaw, forcing down the flare of anger and betrayal. She’d used Dotina plenty in the past, yes, but the idea that Dotina had been one step ahead—watching her rot from the inside out—churned something sharp and bitter in her stomach. “You going to tell me why you really came?” she asked, voice low.
Dotina met her gaze without blinking. “Yes. But not yet.”
She turned away, walking slowly toward the far end of the room.
“When you’re strong enough to stand, we’ll talk properly,” Dotina added over her shoulder. “And when we do… I’ll tell you what I think you already suspect.”
Lili’s fingers twitched against the sheets. The room was spinning slower now, but the dread? That only grew heavier.
Something was coming. And Dotina, for all her silk and smiles, wasn’t here to offer salvation. She was here to see what Lili would choose to become…
***
Dotina stood a few paces from the bed, the low light of her private chambers casting sharp lines across her face. In one hand, she swirled a crystal glass filled with something dark and burning, the scent of it bitter and smoky. Her eyes, however, were locked on Lili who now sat weakly at the edge of the bed, a pale shadow of the storm the underground both feared and respected.
Luro worked beside her with gloved hands and a quiet intensity. The wound was still angry and fresh despite the cleaning, the infection creeping too close for comfort. He didn’t speak much, but every now and then his eyes would flick up to Lili’s face, assessing, calculating, watching the way her fingers trembled despite her effort to appear still.
Dotina took another slow sip, the burn sliding down her throat like fire. “You look like death,” she muttered, tone dry but not without concern. “Fitting, I suppose.”
Lili didn’t answer right away. She was too focused on breathing, on not letting the pain show, on ignoring the spreading web of dark veins now hidden under fresh bandages. Only after a long pause did she lift her gaze and meet Dotina’s. “Don’t tell me you’ve started to care,” she rasped.
Dotina smiled faintly, something dangerous and amused in her eyes. “Care? No. But I’m rarely this invested in watching a legend bleed.” Her eyes flicked toward Luro. “And I don’t waste Luro’s time on corpses.”
Lili exhaled a slow breath, the corner of her mouth twitching in a grim echo of a smile. “So you’re just watching the fall.”
“I’m watching to see if you’ll climb back up,” Dotina said coolly. “Or if the city finally chewed you into something it can spit out.”
The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full of tension, fire, and something unspoken between them—respect, perhaps… or something far more dangerous.
Dotina slowly lowered her glass to the table beside her, the clink of crystal on wood far too loud in the thick silence that followed.
Luro paused as well, his hands hovering just above Lili’s shoulder where the bandages were stained darker than before. He didn’t look up, but the tension in his posture said he was listening.
Lili’s voice came quieter this time, laced with something bitter—resignation or defiance, even she couldn’t tell. “Maybe you’re right,” she said again, letting the words sink. “I was already on borrowed time. Now what I borrowed needs to be returned.” She turned her head slightly, just enough to meet Dotina’s eyes.“But not a smile this time?” Lili asked, her voice almost teasing, though the weight behind it was undeniable.
Dotina didn’t smile. For a moment, the woman who ruled whispers and secrets, who walked through the underworld like a queen, looked… older. Not tired—but heavy. Her lips pressed into a line, the faintest crease forming between her brows.
“You always talked like you were untouchable,” she said softly. “Like you were just a storm passing through. But now the storm’s bleeding in my bed.”
Lili’s gaze didn’t waver. “And it bothers you.”
Dotina finally stepped closer, stopping just within reach of the bed. “It does. Because if you can fall, then something worse is out there. And that means we’re all already bleeding—we just haven’t noticed yet.”
Lili exhaled through her nose. “Cheerful as always.”
“I drink for a reason,” Dotina said, lifting the glass again. “And it’s not the taste.”
Silence stretched again, except for the soft sound of Luro applying a fresh layer of antiseptic.
Then Dotina added, lower this time, “You don’t get to return anything yet, Lili. Not until you show me who’s trying to collect.”
And that, finally, brought a faint flicker back into Lili’s eyes. A fight. A thread of fury. Something that hadn’t bled out yet.
Lili adjusted herself against the headboard, suppressing the hiss of pain that wanted to escape. The bandages around her shoulder had bled through again, a dark stain growing slowly, mercilessly.
“You’re right that it’s bad, Dotina,” she began, her gaze distant, as if speaking more to memory than the woman in front of her. “Worse than we ever thought. A force is moving—quietly purging the Gifted.”
Dotina stayed quiet, her expression tightening with each word.
“They use bullets,” Lili went on. “Bullets infused with something… unnatural. A trace—an imprint of a Gift. They don’t just wound you. They bleed you out slowly from the inside. Twist your blood, your mind. You start to hear whispers. Lose strength. And eventually, you lose yourself.” She paused, her breath ragged. “I’ve seen it before. I am seeing it. In myself.”
Dotina didn’t move—but her knuckles whitened around her glass.
“I was warned,” Lili said, bitter amusement curling around her tone. “By two people. One wasn’t Gifted. The other… let’s just say he’s more annoying than helpful. It was too late by then, of course. It had already started. The infection. The decay.”
She laughed, low and tired, shaking her head against the pillow. “But we did manage to burn down one of their shipments, the docks. A full crate of those cursed bullets gone to ash. A charming little joint effort between a mafia killer and a hero.”
Dotina arched an eyebrow. “That’s a first.”
She looked at Dotina then—truly looked, her gaze cutting through the haze of pain. “Whatever’s coming… it’s not just after me. It’s after everyone with a Gift. And this city? It won’t survive what’s next if we keep pretending the storm isn’t already here.”
Dotina swirled the drink in her hand, the amber liquid catching the low light. A slow, sly smile curved her lips.
“Well, well,” she mused. “I wonder what your boss will think when he finds out you’ve been playing tag-team with the hero boy.” Her voice dripped with amusement, but her eyes remained sharp, watching for cracks in Lili’s reaction. “The infamous Princess of Death—allying with the flames of righteousness? That’s not going to look very… loyal.”
Lili let out a low exhale that might’ve been a laugh if it hadn’t been laced with bitterness. “I didn’t work with him,” she said coolly, settling deeper against the headboard. “I used him. Big difference.”
Dotina raised an eyebrow. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
Lili’s eyes narrowed. “I needed those bullets destroyed. He wanted the same thing. That doesn’t make us allies—it makes us two knives pointed in the same direction for a moment.”
“But knives cut both ways, Lili,” Dotina said, her voice quieter now. “You know that.”
Lili didn’t answer. She just stared at the ceiling, jaw tight.
The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken truths—too many of them hanging in the air, waiting for a careless word to send them shattering.
“Well… I’m dead either way,” Lili murmured with a tired, almost shy smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Slowly, she pushed herself up from the bed, legs trembling slightly beneath her weight. Still, she straightened her back, trying to look steadier than she felt. “I’ll be leaving. Knowing my boss, he’s probably already tearing the city apart looking for me.”
“Oh, he is,” Dotina replied, clearly amused, taking a slow sip of her drink as if she were savoring some private victory. “But he’s not the only one who knows how to make people disappear. And honestly, Lili… I’m not sure you should show yourself to him like this.”
Lili sighed, eyes lowering for a breath. “He already knows,” she said quietly.
Dotina’s eyebrows lifted. “Does he?”
Lili nodded. “He knows me too well. The cracks in the posture… the silence. He can see it all. He’s watching for the fall even before it happens.”
Dotina’s smirk faded into something softer—still unreadable, but tinted with a rare trace of concern. Then, without a word, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small golden locket.
Lili’s breath caught. Her eyes widened as she recognized it immediately—the necklace with the faded photograph inside. A baby, swaddled and sleeping.
“You told me you lost it,” Lili said sharply, her voice suddenly colder.
Dotina met her gaze calmly, walking toward her with unhurried grace. “And you knew I was lying,” she said. “But you didn’t press, because some part of you didn’t want the answer. I get that. But here it is anyway.”
She extended the necklace gently, placing it in Lili’s hand.
“I didn’t show it to you earlier because I was trying to protect you from another storm. That baby?” Dotina’s voice softened. “That’s you, Lili. I didn’t recognize it at first—not until I started digging. But once I did… I found something else. Someone’s looking for you.”
Lili stared at the picture, her fingers trembling slightly around the locket. Her voice came out a breathless whisper. “Are you saying that my parents are…”
“Yes,” Dotina said, cutting her off quietly but firmly. “But they’re not here for a tearful reunion. They’re a threat. You have to understand that. They’re not just searching for you out of regret. They want to erase you—to cut out the past they’re ashamed of. If they find you, they won’t hesitate.”
Lili looked up, her expression a mixture of disbelief, fury, and something deeper—something rawer. She let out a low, bitter chuckle, the sound rasping in her throat. She stared down at the necklace in her palm for a moment longer before closing her fingers tightly around it.
“Well,” she said dryly, “aren’t they going to be thrilled to know I’ve already got one foot in the grave?” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes—didn’t even try to. It was the smile of someone who had nothing left to fear and too much left to lose.“Maybe they’ll send flowers,” she added, voice sharp with sarcasm. “Black lilies, perhaps. Fitting, isn’t it?”
Dotina didn’t smile. She simply watched her with a cool, assessing gaze—one that flickered briefly with something more protective, more personal, before it vanished.
Lili’s eyes flared deep, burning crimson, chasing away every trace of weakness that had clung to her moments ago. Her gaze locked onto Dotina’s, sharp as the blade she so often wielded. For a heartbeat, Dotina faltered—her body instinctively tensing, her foot sliding half a step back. This was the Lili she knew. The only woman Dotina had ever truly respected… and feared.
“Oh, you’ll see me acting,” Lili said, voice quiet but edged. “Just like you always do.”
She crossed the space between them in a single move. Dotina didn’t move, but her posture turned guarded. The air grew heavier as Lili reached out. Her hand landed on Dotina’s shoulder. Dotina blinked, caught off guard by the softness in Lili’s touch.
“Thank you,” Lili murmured, the cold edge melting into something rawer, quieter. “For caring… even if you pretend not to. There’s no one else I can really call a friend. Not in this city.” Her fingers tightened slightly, just enough for Dotina to feel the weight behind her words. “Even if you lied to me,” Lili added, “you still pulled me out of the fire.”
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then Dotina exhaled carefully. “You’re welcome,” she said.
As Lili turned toward the door, —
“Wait.” Dotina’s voice cut through the silence.
Lili’s steps faltered. She didn’t turn around, but her hand hovered near the doorknob.
Dotina’s heels clicked softly against the polished floor as she took a few steps forward. “That Gifted you teamed up with,” she said, eyes narrowing slightly, “he’s trouble.”
Lili glanced over her shoulder, one brow lifting in silent challenge.
Dotina didn’t flinch. “Stay away from him, Lili. He’s a loose cannon. And the people he works for? They don’t control him. They think they do, but he’s running his own game beneath theirs.”
A beat passed. Lili tilted her head, eyes still burning faintly red. “Good,” she said with a trace of dry humor. “That means we have something in common.”
Dotina didn’t smile. Her expression remained still, unreadable. “I’m serious. You’re already standing on the edge. One wrong ally, and you fall.”
Lili finally turned fully to face her. “I’ve fallen before.” Her voice was quiet, but there was steel beneath it. “And I always get up sharper.”
Without waiting for another word, she opened the door and stepped into the shadows beyond…
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