Chapter 19: The War Council's First Strike
The black card sat on the coffee table like a coiled snake.
Katrina had placed it there with deliberate care, her fingers trembling only slightly as she released it. The morning light caught the symbols etched into its surface, making them writhe and shift in ways that hurt to look at directly. Everyone had gathered in the living room—Mandy cross-legged on the couch with her laptop forgotten beside her, Felicity perched on the arm of the same couch with her blonde hair still tangled from sleep, Calista standing by the window with her silver hair catching the dawn, and Huy kneeling beside Mai's still form on the pull-out bed they'd set up.
No one spoke.
The silence stretched like a held breath.
"Shaw's been running this operation for years," Katrina said finally. Her voice was steadier than she felt. "She has resources. Connections. People who owe her favors or fear her enough to do whatever she asks."
She looked at each of them in turn.
"She also has a weakness."
"Arrogance," Mandy said. It wasn't a question.
"Arrogance," Katrina confirmed. "She thinks she's already won. She thinks the wine worked. She thinks Mai's under her control and you two are hollow shells."
Felicity's blue eyes flickered with something sharp. "She's wrong."
"She's wrong," Katrina agreed. "And we're going to make her pay for that mistake."
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper—notes she'd scribbled in the dark hours before dawn, her handwriting cramped and hurried. She spread it on the table next to the card.
"Here's what we know. Shaw's staying at the Marriott on Biscayne Boulevard. Suite 1424. She has at least four guards on rotation, all of them Wands—probably low-level, probably don't know what they're really protecting."
"Probably," Calista echoed. Her golden eyes narrowed. "You're not sure."
"I'm not sure." Katrina met her gaze. "That's why we need a test. Something small. Deniable. A way to verify our intelligence before we commit to anything bigger."
She tapped the paper.
"Mark can feed us information from inside. He's been Shaw's assistant for years—he knows her schedules, her habits, her passwords. But we can't rely on him alone. If something goes wrong, if he's compromised—"
"He won't be," Mandy said.
The certainty in her voice surprised Katrina.
"How do you know?"
Mandy shrugged. Her expression was unreadable, that familiar smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. "Because you fucked him last night. In a dream. With LeFaye acting as witness." She tilted her head. "That's not the kind of thing a guy walks away from."
Felicity made a small choking sound.
Calista laughed—a bright, surprised burst of sound that cut through the tension like a blade.
"Jesus, Mandy," Felicity managed.
"What? I'm just saying." Mandy's smirk widened. "Katrina's got good instincts. Always has. If she says Mark's on our side, I believe her."
Katrina felt heat rise to her cheeks. She hadn't told them about the dream. Not the details, anyway. Not the way Mark had touched her, the way he'd begged, the way she'd taken him into her body and let him spill inside her while the mirrors reflected their sin from every angle. She'd only said that LeFaye had shown her proof of Mark's loyalty.
But Mandy had always been perceptive. Annoyingly so.
"We don't have time for this," Katrina said, forcing her voice steady. "The test. We need to focus on the test."
"Right." Calista stepped away from the window, her silver hair swaying with the movement. "I'll do it."
"No." Mandy shook her head. "You're too recognizable. That face is on billboards all over Miami. If Shaw's people see you—"
"I'll use a glamour." Calista's lips curved. "Not my usual one. Something subtle. I can make myself look like anyone—a maid, a delivery girl, a random tourist. I just need ten minutes inside that hotel."
"You have fire magic," Felicity pointed out. "If something goes wrong—"
"Then I burn the place down and walk out the front door." Calista shrugged. "I've done worse."
Katrina looked at her—really looked at her. Calista was twenty years old, with the kind of ethereal beauty that made people stop and stare. She was also a model, a half-elf, and the biological granddaughter of Mike and Casey Williamson, which meant she'd inherited more than just their good looks. She'd inherited their stubbornness. Their recklessness. Their absolute refusal to back down from a fight.
"You're sure?" Katrina asked.
"Absolutely."
The word hung in the air.
Then Huy spoke.
Her voice was soft, accented, careful—the voice of someone who had learned English from books and conversation, not from the casual slang of Miami streets.
"There is danger in this."
She rose from her position beside Mai, her movements fluid despite her age. Her dark eyes held secrets that Katrina couldn't begin to guess at.
"Shaw is not merely arrogant. She is cunning. She will expect betrayal." Huy reached into the folds of her linen dress and produced a small scrap of fabric—ancient, worn, the color of sand and time. "Take this."
She pressed it into Katrina's palm.
"What is it?"
"A piece of my burial shroud." Huy's lips quirked. "It has protected me for three thousand years. It will protect you now."
She produced four more scraps, each identical to the first, and handed one to each of the women.
"Keep it against your skin. If Shaw's magic touches you, it will burn." Her dark eyes flickered. "Then you will know."
Katrina tucked the scrap into the pocket of her jeans. The fabric was warm against her fingers—warmer than it had any right to be.
"Thank you," she said.
Huy inclined her head.
---
The plan took shape over the next hour.
Calista would scout the hotel first, using a glamour to pose as a room service attendant. She would note the guards' positions, the camera placements, the exits. She would be in and out in fifteen minutes—twenty at most.
Then Mandy and Felicity would begin their performance. They would go to the hotel lobby, shuffling and blank-eyed, and ask for Shaw by name. When they were brought to her suite, they would stand in silence until given orders, responding only with slow nods and monosyllabic answers. They would be the hollow shells Shaw expected them to be.
Katrina would arrive an hour later.
She would be the broken-hearted dupe—the woman who had been used and discarded, the one who had trusted too easily and paid the price. She would cry. She would beg. She would ask Shaw why, why, why, and Shaw would smile her cold smile and explain exactly how she'd been played.
And while she was explaining, Mark would be listening.
He would hear everything through a wireless transmitter Katrina would wear under her shirt. He would hear Shaw's confirmation, her confession, her boasting. He would record it all.
Then Jess would take that recording to the Golden Wands—not Shaw's faction, but the legitimate authorities. The Merlin herself, Casey's aunt Calli, would have to act.
"One problem," Mandy said.
She was pacing now, her steps quick and agitated against the creaking floorboards.
"Shaw knows my whole family. She knows my dad, my mom, my brothers. She knows Beth and Calista and Rick." She stopped, turning to face Katrina. "If she sees me acting hollow, she's going to expect tears. She's going to expect a reaction. She's seen what the wine does. She's probably studied it."
"She's right," Felicity said quietly. "I've read the research. The wine doesn't just hollow people out—it makes them obsessive. Desperate. They'll do anything for the person who dosed them."
Katrina's stomach turned.
"So I need to be desperate," Mandy said flatly. "I need to look at Shaw like she's my god and my executioner all at once."
"That's..." Calista trailed off.
"Exploitative?" Mandy's smirk returned, sharper now. "Yeah. It is. But it's also what Shaw expects. And if we're going to beat her, we have to give her exactly what she wants—right up until we don't."
The room was silent.
Then Felicity stood up.
"Fine," she said. Her voice was steady, but her hands were trembling. "Fine. I can do this. I've dealt with worse."
Katrina frowned. "What do you mean?"
Felicity met her eyes.
"I grew up with Rebecca Winkle as my mother. You know what that means?" She laughed—a small, bitter sound. "It means I've been studying things that want to kill me since before I could read. It means I've learned to smile at demons, to shake hands with ghosts, to pretend I'm not scared even when I'm about to throw up."
She looked at Mandy.
"Shaw wants a broken doll? I'll give her a broken doll."
Mandy's expression softened. Just for a moment—a flicker of something vulnerable behind her usual smirk.
"Good," she said. "Because if we're doing this, we're doing it together."
---
The sun was fully up by the time they finished planning. Golden light streamed through the windows, catching the dust motes that danced in the air, and the smell of coffee drifted in from the kitchen where Jeeves had been brewing a pot with his usual mechanical efficiency.
Katrina should have felt exhausted. She'd slept—restlessly, in fragments—but she'd also dreamed, and the dream had left marks on her that went deeper than exhaustion. She could still feel Mark's hands on her skin. Still taste him on her tongue.
She pushed the thought aside.
One of the scraps Huy had given her was in her pocket, pressed against her thigh. The warmth of it was strangely comforting—a reminder that she wasn't alone, that she had allies, that she had people who cared about what happened to her.
She hadn't had that in thirty years.
The others gathered in the kitchen, grabbing mugs and pouring coffee, their conversations overlapping in a familiar, comfortable rhythm. Mandy was explaining something to Felicity about signal encryption. Calista was on her phone, presumably texting Beth or Rick to update them on the plan. Huy knelt beside Mai, her hand resting on the unconscious woman's forehead, her lips moving in a silent prayer or spell.
Katrina stood in the doorway, watching them.
She thought about the void—the endless gray nothing where she'd spent three decades. She thought about the cold, the silence, the absolute certainty that no one would ever come for her.
She thought about how wrong she'd been.
"You're brooding."
She turned. Calista had appeared beside her, quiet as a ghost. Her golden eyes were knowing.
"I'm not brooding," Katrina said. "I'm... thinking."
"About what?"
"About how different things are than I expected."
Calista tilted her head. "What did you expect?"
Katrina considered the question.
"When I was trapped, I imagined what it would be like if I ever got out. I imagined finding my friends, finding my family." She paused. "But my friends are dead. My family... I don't even know if they're still alive. Everything I knew is gone."
Calista didn't speak.
"I thought I would be alone," Katrina continued. "I thought I would have to rebuild my life from scratch, with nothing and no one to help me." She looked at the room—at Mandy and Felicity laughing about something, at Huy's quiet devotion, at the coffee mugs and the morning light and the simple, domestic chaos of it all. "But I wasn't alone."
Calista reached out and took her hand.
"You're not alone," she said. "You never were. Mom and Dad have been checking in constantly. Beth's been asking about you every day. And Mandy—" She smiled. "Mandy's been planning this breakfast since the day you arrived. She wanted to make sure you felt welcome."
Katrina's throat tightened.
"I don't deserve this."
"Deserve has nothing to do with it." Calista's grip was firm. "You're family now. That's what matters."
Family.
The word settled into Katrina's chest like a stone—not heavy, but solid. Something to anchor herself to.
She didn't trust herself to speak. So she just nodded, and let Calista pull her into the kitchen, and let the warmth of the morning wash over her.
---
The test came later that afternoon.
Calista left first, glamoured beyond recognition, and returned ninety minutes later with a detailed report: two guards at the suite's main entrance, one stationed near the service elevator, and a third who did occasional walkthroughs of the hallway every twenty minutes. No cameras inside the suite itself—Shaw was too paranoid for that—but there were hidden sensors in the walls.
"Anything magical?" Katrina asked.
"A few wards. Nothing major." Calista dropped onto the couch. "Easy to bypass."
"And the windows?"
"Sealed. No way in or out without setting off alarms."
Katrina frowned. That made things more complicated. But they didn't need to break into the suite—not today. Today was about information. About confirmation.
"Did you see her?" Mandy asked. She'd been quieter than usual since the planning session, her smirk appearing less often, her jokes fewer. The weight of what they were about to do had settled onto her shoulders.
Calista's expression darkened.
"I saw her," she said.
"And?"
"And she looked exactly like I remember." Calista's voice was flat. "Cold. Calculating. Like she's already figured out every move we're going to make."
Mandy's jaw tightened. "She hasn't."
"No," Calista agreed. "She hasn't."
The plan was simple. Mandy and Felicity would arrive at the hotel in separate cars—one at the main entrance, one at the side. They would walk slowly, their shoulders curved inward, their eyes fixed on the floor. They would ask for Shaw by name, and when they were escorted up to her suite, they would do exactly what the wine was supposed to have done.
They wouldn't have to pretend. They just had to let themselves be led. Let themselves be asked. Let themselves be sent where Shaw directed them.
Simple. Direct. Absolutely terrifying.
"Ready?" Felicity asked.
She and Mandy stood by the door, their bags packed with everything they might need: phones, wallets, the protective scraps from Huy tucked securely beneath their shirts.
"Ready," Mandy said.
She looked at Katrina.
"You?"
Katrina nodded. "I'll be there an hour after you. Just like we planned."
"And Mark?"
"He'll be waiting."
Mandy studied her for a moment, something unreadable in her brown eyes. Then she nodded.
"Good."
She grabbed Felicity's hand.
"Let's go make a monster regret she ever heard the name Williamson."
---
The hotel was gleaming glass and steel, the kind of place that charged eight dollars for a bottle of water and had a doorman who looked like he'd seen everything and was impressed by none of it. Katrina watched Mandy and Felicity walk through the front entrance, their movements slow and deliberate, their eyes fixed on the floor.
They looked exactly like hollowed-out shells.
It was a performance worthy of an award. Mandy shuffled slightly, dragging one foot a fraction more than the other. Felicity's shoulders curved inward like a question mark. They didn't look at each other. They didn't speak. They moved like puppets controlled by strings only they could see.
Katrina's heart hammered against her ribs.
She waited.
An hour passed—slow, agonizing, each minute stretching into an eternity. She sat in a coffee shop across the street, a half-cold latte growing colder on the table in front of her, her phone clutched in her hand.
No messages. No updates. No frantic texts from Mandy or Felicity.
Then, finally, from Mark:
They're in. Shaw's pleased. She's having them moved to a private suite.
Katrina exhaled.
Then it was her turn.
She crossed the street. The doorman let her through without a second glance—she looked the part of a woman who belonged here, or believed she did, and her gray eyes held a hollowness that was not entirely an act. The elevator ride took her to the fourteenth floor without stopping. She walked down the hallway with measured steps, counting doors until she reached the right one.
The guards were easy to spot—too obvious, too rigid, their charcoal gray suits identically crisp. She approached the door and knocked.
Silence.
Then, from behind it, muffled but distinct: "Let her in."
The door opened. A guard stepped aside. Katrina stepped past him, into the suite.
Evelyn Shaw sat by the window.
She was older than Katrina expected—silver-haired, sharp-featured, with the kind of face that had once been beautiful and had only grown more dangerous with age. Her eyes were pale and cold and they tracked Katrina's movement with the precision of a predator.
"Katrina Harlow," she said.
Her voice was smooth as aged whiskey.
"I was wondering when you'd show up."
Katrina felt the scrap of Huy's shroud against her thigh. It was warm. Not burning.
Yet.
"I want answers," she said.
Shaw raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"
"You used me." Katrina's voice cracked—half performance, half real. "You used me to get to Mandy and Felicity. You used my feelings for Mark to manipulate me."
Shaw's lips curved.
"You're a smart girl, Katrina. You figured that out on your own."
"Then why?" Katrina demanded. "Why me? Why them? What did we ever do to you?"
Shaw's smile widened.
"Sit down," she said. "This is a long story."
Katrina sat.
And as Shaw began to speak—smooth and self-assured, her voice weaving through the air like silk—Katrina felt her phone buzz against her hip.
Mark.
She didn't look at it. She kept her eyes on Shaw, kept her expression appropriately devastated. But her heart beat faster beneath her ribs.
He was listening.
The recording had begun.
And somewhere in the space between Shaw's words and the lies she was weaving, a trap was snapping shut around her like a bear's jaw.
Katrina just had to survive long enough to see it close.
Shaw talked for forty-five minutes.
She talked about the Bentley Ridge Incident, about the rift, about the research team that had been lost. She talked about Aemelia, about the elf's plans, about the way everything had fallen apart. She talked about Katrina's role in it all — the naive researcher who'd been too trusting, too eager to please.
"Do you know what your problem was?" Shaw asked. "Do you know why Aemelia chose you?"
Katrina sat rigid on the couch, her hands clenched in her lap. Her phone had buzzed twice more against her hip, but she ignored it.
"Tell me."
"You wanted to be loved." Shaw's pale eyes glittered. "You still do. It's written all over you. The way you look at those Williamson girls, like they're the family you never had. The way you looked at Mark, like he was the answer to a prayer you didn't know you were praying."
Katrina's throat tightened.
"You're a desperate, pathetic thing," Shaw continued, her voice almost kind. "And desperate people are easy to manipulate. Aemelia knew that. I knew that."
"And what about Mandy and Felicity?" Katrina asked, forcing the words past the lump in her throat. "What were they to you?"
Shaw's expression flickered — a brief crack in the facade, something cold and ugly peeking through.
"They ruined me," she said.
Her voice was flat.
"Twenty years I spent building my influence. Twenty years I spent collecting artifacts, cultivating allies, preparing for the moment when I would finally have enough power to take what was rightfully mine." Her hands tightened on the arms of her chair. "And then those three girls — those children — came along and destroyed everything."
"You're talking about the heart," Katrina said. "Huy's heart."
Shaw's jaw clenched.
"I'm talking about eighteen years of work undone in a single afternoon." Her voice rose slightly, the first crack in her composure. "I had the heart. I had everything. And then that little Egyptian corpse summoned her pet god and ruined all of it."
"She's not a corpse," Katrina said.
Shaw's eyes snapped to her.
"What?"
"Huy. She's not a corpse." Katrina's voice was steady, even though her heart was racing. "She's a person. She's alive. She's been alive for three thousand years, and she's under the protection of Anubis, and you—"
"Anubis." Shaw laughed — a sharp, bitter sound. "You think I care about some ancient Egyptian deity? You think I'm afraid of a dog-headed god who's been dead for millennia?"
Katrina blinked.
Behind Shaw, the door to the bedroom opened.
Mandy and Felicity shuffled out.
They moved like sleepwalkers, their feet dragging across the carpet, their eyes fixed on some point in the middle distance. Mandy's shaggy brown hair hung limp around her face. Felicity's blonde waves were tangled and unkempt. They wore the same clothes they'd had on when they arrived — jeans, t-shirts, sneakers — but something about them seemed diminished. Smaller. Less.
They stopped a few feet behind Shaw's chair.
Shaw turned to look at them.
Her expression shifted — from anger to something colder. Something hungry.
"Ah," she said. "There they are."
Mandy didn't react. Felicity didn't react. They stood there, swaying slightly, their faces blank as mannequins.
"Come here," Shaw said.
They came.
They moved in perfect unison, their steps synchronized, their bodies turning to face Shaw like flowers turning toward the sun. They stopped when they reached the edge of her chair, their hands hanging limp at their sides.
"Show her," Shaw said.
Katrina frowned. "Show me what?"
Shaw's smile was razor-edged.
"Proof."
She gestured at the two young women standing before her.
"These girls — these wonderful, infuriating girls — thought they could defy me. They thought they could protect themselves with their little spells and their little friends and their little secrets." She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. "But look at them now. Empty. Obedient. Mine."
Katrina's stomach turned.
"Strip," Shaw said.
The word hung in the air.
Mandy and Felicity moved.
Their hands went to their shirts. They pulled them over their heads in unison, revealing the smooth curves of their shoulders, the soft skin of their stomachs, the simple cotton of their bras. They dropped the shirts on the floor.
"Look at that," Shaw murmured. "No hesitation. No shame. Just obedience."
Katrina's heart pounded.
Mandy and Felicity unbuttoned their jeans. They pushed them down over their hips, over their thighs, over their calves. They stepped out of them in unison and added them to the pile.
They stood in their underwear — Mandy in a plain black bra and panties, Felicity in soft blue cotton. Their faces were still blank. Their eyes were still fixed on nothing.
But Katrina saw something else.
A flicker. A twitch. A momentary tightening around Mandy's jaw that disappeared almost instantly.
They were acting.
They were acting, and Shaw couldn't see it, and Katrina's heart was hammering so hard she thought it might burst.
"Now," Shaw said. "The rest."
Mandy reached behind her back and unhooked her bra.
Felicity did the same.
The straps slid down their arms. The cups fell away, revealing the soft curves of their breasts — Mandy's smaller and rounder, Felicity's fuller and heavier. Their nipples were already hard, pebbled from the cool air-conditioning.
Katrina's mouth went dry.
They hooked their fingers into the waistbands of their underwear and pulled.
The fabric slid down their legs. They stepped out of the last of their clothes and stood naked before Shaw, their bodies exposed, their skin gleaming under the hotel room lights.
"Beautiful," Shaw said.
Her voice was soft, almost reverent.
"You see, Katrina? You see what I've made? These girls were so proud, so defiant. And now look at them." She gestured at their naked bodies. "Perfect little dolls. Ready to do whatever I ask."
Katrina couldn't speak.
Inside her pocket, Huy's linen scrap was pressing against her thigh. It was warm — warmer than before. Almost hot.
She had to get them out of here.
She had to give them time.
"Why them?" she asked.
Her voice cracked on the words.
"Why not me?"
Shaw turned to look at her.
"What?"
"You said they ruined you. You said they destroyed your plans." Katrina leaned forward, her hands clasped together, her expression desperate. "But it wasn't them. It was Huy. Huy summoned Anubis. Huy destroyed your plans. Mandy and Felicity were just—"
"Just what?" Shaw's eyes narrowed.
"Just children." Katrina's voice trembled. "They're twenty-two years old. They're college students. They didn't even know what they were doing. They just stumbled into your mess and tried to help a stranger."
Shaw stood up.
Her movement was sharp and sudden, and for a moment Katrina thought she'd gone too far. But Shaw's attention was on her now — fully, completely — and Mandy and Felicity were behind Shaw, out of sight.
"Do you think I care about their ages?" Shaw demanded. "Do you think I care about their innocence? They stole from me, Katrina. They humiliated me. They made me look weak."
"They made you look weak?" Katrina's voice was shaking. "You spent twenty years plotting world domination, and now want revenge against two twenty-two-year-olds. You spent a decade building an empire just so you could crush two children. Who's really weak here?"
Shaw's face went white.
"You dare," she hissed. "You dare to speak to me like that?"
Behind her, Mandy and Felicity moved.
Katrina saw it out of the corner of her eye. Their hands went to their pockets — no, not their pockets. They'd already undressed. There was nowhere to hide anything.
But their hands went to their mouths.
They were eating something.
No. They were swallowing.
The scraps of linen.
Katrina's heart stuttered.
"Answer me!" Shaw shouted. "Do you think I'm afraid of some Egyptian god? Do you think I quiver in fear at the thought of a mummy and her pet dog?"
Katrina's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"I—"
"Pathetic," Shaw spat. "You're all pathetic. You, the children, the mummy, the elf, the whole lot of you. You have no idea what I'm capable of. You have no idea what I've done to get here."
She turned around.
Mandy and Felicity stood where they'd been left — naked, still, their hands at their sides. Their mouths were closed. There was no trace of the linen scraps anywhere.
They had swallowed them.
They had swallowed them, and now the protection was inside them, hidden, invisible.
Shaw's eyes swept over them. Her expression softened. The anger faded.
"Good girls," she said.
Mandy's lips parted.
"Thank you, Mistress."
The words came out flat, emotionless. But something in Mandy's eyes — something hidden — gleamed.
"You see?" Shaw said, turning back to Katrina. "You see what I've made? Perfect obedience. Perfect devotion."
Katrina nodded. Her hands were trembling.
"Show me," Shaw said. "Show me how much you want to please me."
Mandy and Felicity moved.
They turned to face each other. Their hands rose in unison — Mandy's fingers brushing Felicity's cheek, Felicity's hands settling on Mandy's hips. They moved slowly, deliberately, their bodies pressing together like puzzle pieces clicking into place.
Their lips met.
The kiss was soft at first — almost chaste — but it deepened quickly, their mouths opening, their tongues touching. Mandy's hands slid up into Felicity's hair. Felicity's fingers gripped Mandy's hips hard enough to bruise.
Shaw watched with hungry eyes.
"More," she said.
Mandy broke the kiss and dropped to her knees.
She looked up at Felicity — not with blankness now, but with something else. Something sharp and knowing and utterly, terrifyingly alive. She pressed her mouth to the inside of Felicity's thigh. She licked a slow line up to Felicity's cunt. Felicity gasped, her hips jerking forward.
"Do you like that?" Mandy asked.
Her voice was different now — slower, huskier, but still with that edge of performance. She was playing a role. She was playing it perfectly.
"Yes," Felicity breathed. "Yes, please, I need—"
"Tell me how much you want it."
"So much." Felicity's voice cracked. "So much, please, I'll do anything—"
"Anything?"
"Anything."
Mandy's tongue found Felicity's clit.
Felicity cried out — a sharp, high sound that echoed through the hotel suite. Her hands flew to Mandy's head, fingers tangling in the shaggy brown hair, holding her in place. Mandy licked and sucked with obvious expertise, her tongue moving in fast circles, her lips sealing around the sensitive bundle of nerves.
Katrina watched, frozen.
Her body was responding — she couldn't help it. The heat in her belly, the ache between her legs, the way her nipples tightened under her shirt. She hated herself for it. But she couldn't look away.
Shaw was watching too.
Her lips were parted, her eyes bright with satisfaction. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, her fingers drumming against the arm rest.
"Good," she murmured. "Very good."
Felicity was moaning now, her hips rocking against Mandy's face, her head thrown back, her mouth open on a long, desperate cry. Her breasts heaved. Her skin flushed pink. She was close — Katrina could see it in the tension of her thighs, the way her breath came in short, sharp gasps.
Mandy pulled back.
"Not yet," she said.
Felicity made a sound of protest.
"Please—"
"Not yet." Mandy stood up, her chest heaving. She turned to Felicity, her eyes blazing. "I want to feel you."
She pushed Felicity onto the couch.
Felicity landed on her back, her blonde hair spread across the cushions, her legs falling open. Mandy climbed on top of her, their bodies pressing together — breast to breast, belly to belly, cunt to cunt. She began to move, grinding her hips against Felicity's, the slick heat of their arousal mingling.
Felicity's hands found Mandy's ass.
She pulled her closer.
Together, they found a rhythm — slow at first, then faster, their bodies moving in perfect sync. The sound was wet and obscene — the slap of skin, the gasp of breath, the soft cries that escaped their throats.
"That's it," Shaw murmured. "That's it, my darlings. Show me how much you love me."
"We love you." Mandy's voice was breathless, but steady. "We love you so much, Mistress. We don't care about anything else."
"Nothing else matters," Felicity added. Her voice was thin, reedy. "Nothing except pleasing you."
Katrina thought they were laying it on thick.
The performance was good — too good, almost — the kind of theatrical devotion that a truly egomaniacal person would eat up without question. But Shaw wasn't questioning. Shaw was leaning forward, her pale eyes bright, her lips curved in a smile that made Katrina's skin crawl.
"Yes," Shaw whispered. "Yes. This is what I wanted. This is what I deserved."
Mandy and Felicity kept moving.
Their rhythm grew faster, more frantic. Their cries grew louder. Katrina could see the tension building in their bodies — the way their muscles clenched, the way their breathing shallowed, the way they reached for each other like they were drowning.
"Come for me," Shaw commanded. "Both of you. Now."
They obeyed.
The orgasm hit them simultaneously — a wave of pleasure that crashed over both bodies at once. Mandy's back arched. Felicity's mouth fell open on a silent scream. Their hips bucked and ground and shuddered as the release tore through them.
Then, slowly, they collapsed.
They lay tangled on the couch, their breath coming in ragged gasps, their skin slick with sweat. Their eyes were closed. Their faces were slack.
Shaw watched them with something like tenderness.
"Beautiful," she said. "Absolutely beautiful."
She turned to Katrina.
Katrina, who was frozen on the other couch, her hands clenched in her lap, her face pale.
The linen scrap in her pocket was cool now. Almost cold.
"You should go," Shaw said.
Katrina blinked. "What?"
"Go." Shaw's voice was dismissive. "You've served your purpose. You were a useful tool once, but now..." She gestured vaguely at the naked figures on the couch. "Now you're just pathetic. You're not worth my time."
Katrina stood up.
Her legs were shaking. Her hands were shaking. Everything was shaking.
"Fine," she said.
She walked toward the door. Slowly. Deliberately. She didn't look back at Mandy and Felicity. She couldn't.
Behind her, she heard Shaw's voice, soft and satisfied.
"Good girls."
Then the door closed.
Katrina stood in the hallway, her back against the wall, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Tears were streaming down her face — real tears, not the performance she'd given Shaw. She pressed her hand to her mouth and tried to breathe.
The plan was working.
The plan was working, and Mandy and Felicity were still in there, naked and vulnerable and one wrong move away from disaster.
She had to keep moving.
She pushed off the wall and walked toward the elevator. Her phone buzzed again in her pocket — Mark, probably, with an update or a warning or something. She'd check it in the lobby. First she needed to be somewhere public. Somewhere safe.
The elevator descended.
The lobby was bright and busy — tourists checking in, business travelers with their laptops, a group of teenagers in matching backpacks. Katrina stepped out of the elevator and scanned the room.
Her gaze landed on two figures by the entrance.
Beth.
And Marty.
They were sitting on a bench near the windows, trying to look casual and failing entirely. Beth had her camera bag slung over her shoulder and a forced smile on her face. Marty's red hair was unmistakable, even at a distance.
Katrina walked toward them.
Her legs were still shaking.
She stopped in front of them and just stood there, feeling the tears still wet on her cheeks.
"The plan is working," she said.
Beth's expression flickered — relief, concern, something in between. She stood up and pulled Katrina into a hug.
"Jesus Christ," she whispered. "You're shaking."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're—"
"I'm fine." Katrina pulled back, forcing herself to breathe. "Mandy and Felicity are still up there. Shaw's convinced. But we need to move fast."
Marty stood up. He was taller than Beth, with broad shoulders and a face that was trying very hard to look mature and not quite succeeding.
"What do we do?" he asked.
Katrina wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
"We wait. We watch. And we trust Mark to tell us when it's time."
She looked toward the elevators.
"And then we burn that witch to the ground."