“I want to meet the seller,” I insist. I need answers. Wilfred promptly leaves the room.

  I need to know what happened to Bailey. Or if he's behind this whole mess.

  The auction ends, and the crowd disperses. If Bailey tried to sell that notebook… well, let’s just say Rexy’s been craving a good… dinner.

  Wilfred returns to the room. "Unfortunately, the seller did not consent to a meeting."

  "There is no other way? Perhaps a… gratuity for your services?" I whisper the offer to Wilfred.

  He promptly refuses and informs me Raven will be keeping the notebook until I repay the amount I owe, which will be interest free if it’s within a week.

  "Can you discreetly follow him and let me know who he meets?" I whisper to Rexy, putting the pressure on her now tiny little shoulders.

  Rexy gives me a confident nod. "Okay, I'll wait for you outside."

  On my way out, Rexy takes advantage of the relative privacy to slip out of my hair, disappearing into the shadows. Smart girl.

  Soon a man dressed in all black sneaks out the side door of the auction house.

  Rexy scrambles back up my leg and settles in my hair. "This guy?" Rexy nods again.

  My senses lock onto the man in black. I navigate the city streets at a brisk pace, my mind helpfully replaying every spy movie cliché I’ve ever seen.

  My outfit shifts to something a little less conspicuous—darker, more practical.

  Finally, I reach a nondescript door. A bottle-shaped sign hangs crookedly beside it. I push the door open and step inside. Of course, it’s a bar.

  A few patrons are scattered along the counter, nursing their drinks. I sense a hidden passage behind the bar. “Give me your best drink,” I say, meeting the bartender’s gaze.

  He pulls out a futuristic-looking machine and sets it on the counter in front of me. I take out the card I received at the auction house and tap it against the machine. Ding!

  Works like a credit card, neat!

  The bartender quickly gets to work, concocting a vibrant red drink with a core of blue, setting it ablaze before sliding it across the counter.

  A surprisingly delightful blend of red wine with the aroma of berries and a nutty aftertaste.

  “Not bad,” I comment.“I’m looking for a man who went through there,” I say, gesturing behind the counter.

  The bartender gives me a peculiar look before placing the futuristic machine in front of me again. I tap the card. Ding!

  With a shrug, the bartender unlatches a small door behind the counter, it opens into a large space pulsating with music—a full-blown rave.

  Sweeping my senses across the raving room, locking onto my target. A big guy with long, curly black hair, grooves with a couple of women, blissfully unaware of my presence.

  "Dante, where have you been? I missed you…" One of the women leans into him, her voice a purr.

  "Big job! And today I got paid!" He grins, planting a quick kiss on her lips. Then, he roars, "Round of drinks for everyone here!"

  The crowd erupts in cheers.

  As I approach, Dante spots me and saunters over, a smile on his face. "Hey, buddy! You look new here. Come to relax on your day off?"

  "Where's Bailey?" I ask, my voice flat.

  "Who?" Dante's brow furrows in confusion.

  "The one you took the notebook from." My voice hardens.

  Dante's eyes widen, and he makes a sudden move to bolt. I casually place a hand on his shoulder and gently pull him down to the floor.

  A few nearby ravers shriek, momentarily snapping out of their trance. Almost instantly, ten burly bouncers surround us.

  "I don't want any trouble." Dante tries to sputter a protest, but I clap a hand over his mouth. Efficiency is key.

  Pulling out the familiar card, I say to the apparent leader, a mountain of a man with a shaved head, "I need a quiet room. Name your price." Then, I yell out to the crowd, "Drinks on me!"

  The bouncer glances around at the increasingly agitated crowd, then pulls a small, rectangular device from his pocket. Ding! Becoming a familiar sound.

  As the music and party resume, the other bouncers disperse, and the one with the device – our new concierge – leads us toward a door on the side. I shove Dante through the doorway.

  Forcing him into a corner of the small, surprisingly soundproof room, I demand, "Where is Bailey?! Where is the man you stole the notebook from?!"

  "What are you… talking about?" he stammers, avoiding my gaze.

  By focusing my Qi-enhanced senses on Dante, I am able to detect extremely minute details of his body movement, heart rate, even blood flow.

  Combining this information with the lie detection techniques I watched in my past life, I can have a very good guess when someone is lying.

  I throw a swift punch at the wall beside Dante's head. The impact sends a satisfying tremor through the surprisingly solid room.

  "I really don't know… please," he whimpers, voice barely above a whisper.

  "I was just… supposed to meet someone at the auction. Take the card from the auction house. Please… I swear I don't know anything else…"

  "Where's the card?! Hand it over!" I command, holding out my hand. Gotta get my money back. No way I'm paying twenty million for something that's stolen from me.

  Dante reaches into his pocket. I’m sensing his every move, and I know he’s not going for a card. He pulls out a small, metallic pistol and fires.

  A tiny stream of red laser fire sizzles the air between my brows, instantly melting a neat hole through my mask. The hole quickly seals itself. Nanobots. Nice!

  Dante scrambles back in shock and tries to bolt again. I snag him by the collar and fling him against the opposite wall.

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  “What are you?!” he yells, his voice cracking, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

  I aim a punch at his head, and he instinctively tries to block it with both arms.

  CRACK!

  The crisp sound of his arms breaking from the force of impact rings in my ears. He crumples to the floor, unconscious. Oops. Maybe I did overdo it a little.

  Scanning him from head to toe, I find a couple more hidden weapons. And a hidden pocket… with a black metal card and a small, familiar device—Bailey’s device.

  Didn’t take long. Dante slowly blinks his eyes open, groaning. He clutches his obviously broken arms. I hoist him up by the scruff of his neck.

  “WHERE… DID… YOU… GET… THIS?!” I punctuate each word with a slap to his face. “I know you’re the seller. What did you do to my friend?!”

  “Wait!” A sudden, desperate plea escapes his lips as I wind up to throw him against the wall again.

  “These…” He stammers, his voice trembling from his swollen face.

  “They’re from a… a stout fellow I’ve been tracking. You see, someone’s looking for him. Someone… very powerful. And rich.” He swallows hard.

  “Big bounty on his head in the black market. Don’t know why, though.”

  He rushes on, fearing more painful assaults. “I followed him for a couple of days. Real cautious type. But I’m good at this. He went to the vault one day, and all his stuff was gone.”

  “Figured he was about to bolt. So, I tailed him, jumped him in an alley. This…” He gestures weakly to the items.

  “…and a notebook… were all he had left. So, I, uh, relieved him of them, tied him up, and sent a message to the people who want him.”

  Bailey…

  “How long ago was this?” I ask, dragging him up again.

  “Two… two weeks ago…” he whispers.

  I give his wrist a little nudge. It makes a satisfying snap.

  “AHHHHH!” he shrieks. “That’s all I know! Please! I’m just a bounty hunter! I have a family to feed!”

  “How did you contact these people?” I ask.

  He rattles off a string of numbers, and I release his broken wrist. He promptly faints. Again.

  Seems he wasn’t lying. He has a family to feed, huh? Guess most people don’t become bounty hunters for fun.

  As I’m about to leave, the doorway is blocked by the large, bald man. He glances into the room, then fixes his gaze on me.

  “He’s alive, don’t worry. Just a bit shaken up, with a couple of minor fractures,” I say calmly.

  “Could you possibly tidy up this mess? Maybe drop him off at a hospital, and perhaps…strongly suggest he never shows his face in this city again.”

  The man wordlessly takes out his little machine again. I tap the black card once more. Ding!

  Guess everything has a price in this place. Even discretion.

  As I wander the streets, I sense I'm being watched. Could they be connected to Bailey's bounty?

  Ducking into a narrow alley, I quickly locate the two men tailing me. Using a nearby wall, I launch myself onto a rooftop.

  Locking on to the two goons, deciding to return the favor, I follow them. They return to a ridiculously luxurious vehicle.

  The window rolls down, and they lean in to speak to the man inside, informing him they’ve lost track of me.

  He responds by smacking both of them on the head. Hard. Who else could it be, other than our friend Lawrence?

  The vehicle speeds off, and I give chase. It pulls up to a tube leading to a massive, shimmering dome. Inside, a massive mansion dominates the landscape.

  Lawrence leaves the vehicle, practically dripping with gemstones. Servants swarm from the mansion to greet him.

  “Looks like he was the one looking for me after all. Should we pay him a little visit?” Rexy wiggles excitedly and nods.

  Staying out of sight, I scan the perimeter. No obvious second entrances. Figures.

  Before I can even formulate a plan, Lawrence reappears, hops back into his luxurious ride, and zooms off again.

  Naturally, I tail him again, this time to a restaurant named Astralis Table.

  “I’m afraid this establishment is members-only, reservations essential,” the host stops me with a dismissive tone.

  A melodic chuckle ripples through the air. A delicate hand rests lightly on my shoulder.

  "My, my, Val… it seems fate has a rather… persistent sense of humor. Or perhaps…" a familiar voice comes from behind me with amusement.

  "Perhaps our destinies are simply… drawn to one another."

  It’s Raven. Of course, it is.

  “Miss Jin... I didn’t realize this was your… acquaintance. Please forgive me!” the host stammers, all his previous haughtiness evaporated.

  “Hello, thank you for the… loan, but I do have some questions I want to ask you.” I say to Raven, who’s casually strolling past the now-apologetic host, still trailing a wisp of smoke.

  "Oh, honeybun… answers? Such… precious commodities. They do come at a price, you know." She pulls closer and whispers into my ear.

  "But for you, Val… I might be persuaded to offer a… special discount. Come to the auction house tomorrow night… and if you can… intrigue me… well, let's just say I'm feeling rather… generous."

  Sounds like trouble.

  “Raven. Who’s that with you?” Lawrence’s familiar, obnoxious voice echoes through the hall, his servants scrambling behind him.

  "Oh, dear… such a… distraction. My appetite has… vanished." Raven murmurs, turning with a sigh.

  Lawrence promptly blocks her path. “Please. That’s who you’re spending your time with, Raven?” He points a well manicured finger at me. “He’s… wait, twenty million?!”

  “How do you even know about that?” I mutter, genuinely curious by his knowledge.

  “Money can buy anything. Including discretion. Or perhaps…” Lawrence says with a self-satisfied smirk, his eyes fixed on Raven.

  Raven gracefully slips to the side, Wilfred smoothly stepping in to intercept Lawrence.

  Raven turns and walks back to her waiting vehicle. Just before the door closes, she pauses, blowing me a kiss. “Honeybun, do be a dear and… take care of that… eyesore for me, would you?”

  The vehicle door slams shut and speeds off, leaving Lawrence glaring at me with undisguised fury.

  Well, I guess this is a surprise for both of us. I meet his gaze evenly. “So, what did you want with me? I know you followed me.”

  “You’re new. I can tell,” he sneers, stepping close, invading my personal space. “Let me give you some free advice. Raven is… under my protection, shall we say. It would be…”

  Before he can launch into his predictable speech, I smoothly draw the obsidian dagger from my waist. I press the edge lightly against his throat.

  These cliché idiot millionaire brat speeches. Blah, blah, my woman. Blah, blah, you’ll regret it. It’s always the same. You know, antagonists usually die young and unfortunate deaths in novels.

  So much for keeping a low profile. Raven is clearly a whole other level of complicated. This trust fund baby will have to do for now. Sorry, but I need to find Bailey, and fast.

  “Master Lawrence!” His servants instantly swarm around us, a flurry of panicked movement.

  “You imbeciles! Do something!” Lawrence screeches at his servants. “I am the grandson of Duke Mercer! If…”

  “Blah, blah, your grandpa won’t save you now,” I interrupt, rolling my eyes. I press the knife a little closer, just enough to draw a bead of blood.

  “Now, get us a private room. Lawrence and I need a little… chat. Anyone who’s seen anything is coming with us,” I say to the shaking host.

  “This way…” The host, pale and sweating, practically sprints towards a private hallway, leading us to a large, luxurious room.

  “You,” I point at one of the servants with a gun-like device. “Hand over the weapon.”

  He hesitates, but one glare from Lawrence sends him scrambling to obey.

  With the weapon, I point it directly at my own head before pulling the trigger.

  Pew!

  “Ahhh!?!?” Lawrence’s scream echoes through the room. I remain perfectly calm, not a hair out of place. Everyone stares in stunned silence.

  “Just a little demonstration,” I say, lowering the weapon. “Consider it a warning. Don’t try anything funny. Nothing stops me.”

  My demands are simple: as much adamantine as they can get, and figure out who the number Dante gave me connects to.

  Nobody moves after my command. “Go!” I repeat, nudging the obsidian knife a little closer to Lawrence’s throat.

  “Go! You idiots! Move!” Lawrence yells, his voice cracking and tears welling in his eyes.