The inside was nothing but concrete.
The walls, the floor, and the ceiling, solid concrete.
The temperature was also opposite what it was in the ballroom.
It was chilly.
She looked ahead into the scarcely lit darkness, ice eyes narrowed.
Growling with caution, she tucked her fingers in the front cut of the dress. The sound of ripping material echoed lightly as her evening gown was torn in half and fell to the cold ground.
She stepped out from the shredded pile, covered shoulder to foot in dark blue. Her jumpsuit was made to cling to her, the heeled knee high boots offering grip to the floor and a harder impact when kicked.
She bent down.
Her long fingers gripped the torn gown.
Her eyes wondered to the hologram device on the floor.
Her ears perked as she heard a sound.
Growling, she stood up swiftly, the destroyed attire incinerating into mere flakes of ashes in her hands.
She walked steadily into the dark, her footsteps never heard.
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In a fast pace she turned the sharp, narrow corner. Seeing the man that was the cause of the noise.
"'Berto..."
One hand came up quickly to his mouth, the other tightening around his neck.
He stiffened,
"Quiet you arrogant fool."
Her hiss sounded in his ears.
If Looks Could Kill: Chapter 9
