"Do you want to go up and sit on the roof?" I ask Nathaniel, massaging a small cramp in the left side of my neck.

"The roof?" he questions incredulously, "There's no stairway to the rooftop as far as I know. Besides, I still have more reading to do."

I let out a quiet sigh. My body feels weirdly loose and doesn't hurt as much. I suppose Dad was right about the first three days of MMA training being the hardest and I found that my body was stronger now. I could sustain more exertion. I'd actually convinced him to push my training session with my grand old man at The Glade to late morning on Saturdays so that I wouldn't miss out on my five mile run in the evenings.

"Gosh Nathaniel, live a little!" I exclaim, in response to his uptight answer, "You don't always need a stairway to get somewhere."

"Of course. But I'm not confident about climbing pipes like you and I certainly do not look forward to becoming a human pancake." He reasons stubbornly.

"No pipes, I promise." I stick out my lower lip hoping he'll come around, "There's a pretty large ledge just outside my window pane and it's pretty easy to get onto the roof. Plus there are metal rungs to get to the top where the water tank is placed, for emergencies."

Nathaniel shakes his head firmly, looking back down to the contract he's analysing on his tablet.

I pull my mouth into a straight line, "Come on Nathaniel, you do not want to argue with a girl with an aching post workout body who's low on sugar. You might just end up being the cause of my emotional outburst, and trust me you don't want to deal with that."

"I think I'll risk taking my chances. Why don't you go up there and get some air?" he suggests calmly, scrolling through the document, "You quite clearly need a break. I'll be right here."

I let out an annoyed huff, hastily tying my hair into a pony tail as I stand up and shake my stiff feet.

"Just don't complain that I didn't warn you when I actually do cry." I mutter under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear as I gather my things.

Dad has given me a list of rogue organizations in various countries, classified based on their expertise in various illegal avenues, estimated head strength, alleged leaders and their go to tactics.

"I will not." He affirms before looking up from his screen, "And Ariya, I apologize that we cannot attend the beach summer festival today. I know that you would have loved to go."

"It's fine." I give him an indifferent shrug of my shoulders, turning around and making my way up to the attic.

I clamber up the stairs and toss my stationary and binder onto my neatly done bed and wall into the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face. Leaning forward, I study my face for any signs of new pimples, raising my brow and turning my face from side to side.

Satisfied, I grab my phone and a book and hastily push open my window. I sit on the sill and stretch upwards to place my phone and book on the ledge, a few above my head before slowly standing up and swinging my legs up in one go. A little portion of the cheap grey water proofing paint chips off on impact.

Clapping the dust off my hands, I settle down on the flat surface of the roof- a convenient spot where the wall is very low and does not obstruct my view of the beach and the setting sun.

I stretch my legs out front and lean back a little, balancing my weight on my palms, inhaling the cool evening air deeply as I watch the waves erupting in a light foam before gliding towards the sand periodically.

In the distance, I can see bright neon lights flashing around and I can make out the tiny forms of a growing crowd- prancing around, moving as a single unit with whatever music they're playing. A lighthouse sits like the showstopper right in the centre of all the hullabaloo. A few people are surfing the last of the waves before the high tide sets in and another group cheers wildly from the beach strip- hands flailing. I cannot make out what music they're playing, I'm too far away, but the faint vibrations thrum inside my ears and I can almost imagine myself in that crowd.

I hadn't bothered asking Dad if we could go, just fleetingly mentioned it one evening at dinner. He'd strictly warned us not to step out of the house, going over a list of repercussions that our last unchaperoned escapade had caused.

My phone vibrates a couple of times with a gap of a few seconds. It's probably Madison asking if I'm coming down to the beach, so I ignore. I might as well pretend to have something better to do and reply after a while.

Not even a minute passes before my phone begins to vibrate incessantly, enough to move a few centimetres to the side on the floor. The screen lights up with Dad's name and blank profile picture. I really should pick out a nice ringtone and set that. My phone was in danger of electronic arthritis because of the number of times Dad called.

Sighing, I swipe to receive the call, "Hi Dad."

"I'm going to ask you this once and I want a truthful answer, Ariya." He says stiffly, and I can imagine the glowering gaze that comes with this tone.

"I'm at home." I answer truthfully.

"And where's Nathaniel?" he questions frantically.

"In his room, downstairs." I reply, mind prickling with curiosity, "Why?"

"Well, if both of you are at home, then who just slipped the house through the back door?" Dad breathes out loudly, "I'm going to notify the guards shortly and I want you to go check up on him and report now. I knew that a basic heat scan wasn't enough, I should have put up a camera above the back door."

I hiss, muttering under my breath. I shouldn't have left Nathaniel alone at all.

"Dad I'm going to go and check the backdoor." I breathe out, an uneasy feeling setting inside me, "I'll report back as soon as I find something."

I push off the floor, not bothering to dust off my backside, as I hastily climb down to my bedroom. I toss my book onto my study table, slipping my feet into a pair of flip flops because the back sentence opens onto a trail leading to the beach, so the intruder undoubtedly plans to get lost in the crowd of teenagers partying there.

"Nathaniel!" I shout, running down the stairs.

His door is fastened from the outside. Breathing hard, I unlatch it and throw it open but his bedroom is empty. Just as I suspected.

I race down to the kitchen, clutching my phone in my right hand. It's times like these that I wish that I knew how to wield some weapon- maybe knives or a gun so that I can stop the intruder from getting away.

Unfortunately, the intruder is long gone, and with him Nathaniel.

Biting back my worry, I continue running down the sandy trail through a coconut grove. It's getting dark and there are no lights in the grove, looming shadows making it creepier by the second. Crickets buzz around me, revelling in the dark and uninterrupted silence of twilight.

My phone rings again, just as I reach the beach and I bring it up to my ears.

"Hey Dad, whoever came in got away with Nathaniel. I presume they're heading towards the party for cover."

"Yes, the tracker we inserted onto his watch indicates that he's there. And he's heading towards the lighthouse if I'm not wrong."

"Got it. I'll go there right away." I nod, scanning my surrounding cautiously as I jog towards the far end of the beach where the party is in full swing.

The lighthouse is right in the middle of it, golden and silver fairy lights twisted around it's girth that make it look like a blinding beacon that lights up the surroundings. Tables of food and drink surround it and the party radiates outwards in a somewhat circular setting. I find a large red and white cup half filled with rum and cola thrust into my hand by a short girl with tanned skin and pretty eyes who I don't quite recognize.

"Enjoy new girl!" she laughs mirthfully, already visibly tipsy, before she runs past me to give another newcomer a cup.

Biting my lip, I pass the cup to another stranger standing close to me before hurrying in the direction of the lighthouse, my eye darting around rapidly in case I spot Nathaniel.

Most people are clad in swimsuits, the boys mostly shirtless and the girls wearing either sarongs or shorts. I stand out like a sore thumb in my flared cream coloured cotton pajamas and a loose black sleeveless crop top that bares most of my midriff.

Keeping my head low, I scramble towards the lighthouse door, winding through the crowd of familiar faces. I try my best not to bump into Madison or her friends or Truck.

The lighthouse door is pulled close but is not fastened. I push it open as quietly as can and slip inside, pulling the door shut behind me with only a thin slit to allow some light to spill into the dark interior.

My eyes take a couple of moments to adjust to the dark. I inch forward, the sand on the rough cement floor crumbles under my flip flops. It's musty inside, and rather hot which makes my skin feel itchy.

Incoherent whispers echo inside repeatedly. There's someone upstairs, I'm certain of that.

I climb up the stairs cautiously, keeping towards the wall side since there is no railing. The lighthouse is old and has been out of use ever since the small commercial port was shut down about a dozen years ago to move all business a little up the coast to the city.

As I peer up the gap between the winding staircase, I catch sight of a masked face for a fleeting second before it disappears.

"Fuck."

The sound echoes for a few seconds before scuffling ensues. A wave of uneasiness crawls over my skin and I swallow. Pushing my panic to the back of my mind, I climb up the old iron rungs leading to the third floor, couple of grunts piercing through the silence as the scuffling continues for a moment before there's dead silence again.

I see a crumpled figure lying on the dirty floor in a helpless heap when I reach up. He's alone. I jump into a defensive stance, scanning the entire area for any hiding places or crevices. But there's no one else.

"Nathaniel?" I call out softly, inching towards the boy lying on the floor.

He lifts his head slowly, humming roughly in response, like he's in pain.

"Oh my God!" I run forward and kneel next to him, lifting him into sitting position carefully to inspect him.

A gleaming silver dart sticks out of his neck, no doubt poisoned. It's wedged in his skin and not his vein, which either meant that Nathaniel's attacker was so skilled that he deliberately missed poisoning his blood as a warning or was a complete amateur. It pains me to think about it.

"You— you shouldn't have come, Ariya." Nathaniel grinds out, jaw clenching as he squeezes his eyes shut and swallows, "I texted you for a reason, you know."

"I didn't see your text."

I vaguely remember my notifications making my phone vibrate a little before Dad called.

He remains silent, his breathing becoming slightly shallow.

"The agents will be here any moment." I struggle to balance his weight, "Stay awake. Please."

Carefully, I bring my fingers up to the dart sticking out of his neck. Nathaniel weakly wraps his hands around my wrist and mutters a quiet no.

"From Volatis— filled with neurotoxins. Don't touch." He manages to say, "Sucked out with a vacuum and antiseptic lubricant."

"Okay."

I wordlessly pull his head onto my shoulder so that he can be slightly more comfortable. His skin is cold, and he's shivering. My eyes lower towards the dart, something is jutting out of the side. A thin piece of paper.

I turn my head a little more, trying not to move and squint at the paper. There's something written on it which makes me blanch.

Marcus Mirsalehi.

•><•

Yikes! I didn't mean for that to happen. But there's more. Secrets to be revealed and a potential betrayal.
Do you remember Marcus from the prologue?

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