CHAPTER 21: A DARK POLITICIAN

ANNABETH

I woke up, squinting through a rude draft of sunlight that'd fallen through Percy's blinds. He was still asleep, his arm loosely draped over my waist. With a yawn, I sat up. I'd slept so deeply that my skin was creased from being pressed against the rumpled sheets. Carefully, I shook Percy's shoulder with no degree of gentleness. "Hey, wake up."

He groaned into the mattress and sloppily pushed my arm away. "Go away. Lemme sleep."

I wrenched his pillow away from him and tossed it across the room, much to his obvious displeasure. Getting up, I said, "We've got shit to do, Jackson. You can catch your beauty sleep later."

Ten minutes later, we were in a car on our way to Astoria, Queens. Percy was sitting in the driver's seat, gloved hands drumming on the wheel. I turned over the radio's station, changing from a talk show to a soft-sounding track with a female singer on it. I'd never heard it before, but Percy apparently knew it as he started humming along to the song under his breath.

Outside, sheets of heavy rain began to batter the windows. Percy scowled at it as he turned on the windscreen wipers. "I hate New York weather."

I nodded in quiet assent, watching the rain's tiny droplets slide down the glass. "It's not like Paris was much better," I mused.

"Guess so."

Twenty minutes later, we'd made it into the heart of Queens and were driving down a side street. A tall, grey building loomed overhead. "There," I said. "That's it."

Percy raised a brow as he pulled up next to the curb. "Really? Doesn't look like much."

"That's the point."

As discreetly as possible, we climbed up into the old, dilapidated apartment block opposite it that had fallen into disuse. The top floor was covered in mould and was pretty much held together by scaffolding, but it was in direct sight of the hideout so that was where we sat down to begin our diligent reconnaissance.

Together, we watched the street outside. There wasn't much activity besides the occasional dog walker or slow-moving car, so it wasn't long before both of us were bored out of our mind. I'd been expecting this lead to yield answers pretty fast, but nothing was happening—that we could see, anyway. I knew it was likely that SPQR had forces within the hideout, but there was no chance that Percy or I would be able to get inside without being shot down on sight.

Percy seemed especially agitated. He kept alternating between bouncing his knee and biting his nails, both of which succeeded in irritating the hell out of me. "You're really not cut out for recon, are you?" I jabbed after he bit through his pinkie nail particularly loudly.

"Oh, shut up," he retorted. "Just 'cause you're practically a robot doesn't mean everyone else is."

I rolled my eyes, refusing to rise to the bait. "Maybe I should buy you a fidget spinner or something."

"Don't be mean," he chided.

I pouted, mocking him. "Aw. Hurt your feelings, did I?"

"Shut up."

I blanched. "Excuse me?"

Percy pointed out the window. "Shut up, and look! They're here."

I followed his gaze. True to his word, a sleek, black BMW had pulled up outside the hideout and several people had gotten out. The first was a tall woman with cascading red hair, and she was followed by four men dressed in suits. I thought I might've seen the flash of a silver holster at one of their waists, but I couldn't be sure. "Her bodyguards?" I wondered.

Percy nodded. "Probably." We watched in anticipation as the woman headed for the building, flanked by her guards. I expected them to go through the doors at the front, but instead they disappeared through an alleyway around the side.

"Crap," I mumbled. "It's not like we can go in after them."

"Just wait," Percy said. "We'll follow them when they come out."

We sat there by the window, watching intently. Neither the woman nor her bodyguards showed their faces for a while and I started to wonder if they were ever going to come back out. However, just before I could voice that thought to Percy I noticed movement down in the alleyway next to the building: a flash of red hair. The woman and her bodyguards emerged only a few seconds later. "There," I said to Percy. "She's back."

Percy's green eyes remained fixed on the woman as she opened the car door. "What's that in her hand?" he asked.

From here, it was hard to tell. "Looks like some sort of envelope. What do you think's in it?"

"No idea." Percy stood up. "Come on, let's tail her. If she's SPQR then I'm willing to bet we can find out something about Gabe's speakeasy tomorrow night."

We were out of the apartment block and back into our car in a minute flat, and thankfully we could still see the woman's car as she turned a corner. Percy eased down on the accelerator as he cleanly shifted into third gear. We followed the woman at a distance, ensuring that she would have a hard time spotting us. I leaned out the window and tilted the side mirror so I could check to see if anyone was onto us, but the road looked to be clear of any tails. Maybe that was a bad sign, but time would tell.

For the next fifteen minutes, we followed the red-haired woman through the city. Percy was a good driver; he knew when to slow down or speed up in order to avoid being noticed. I tried to work out where she could be going, but we were relatively far from any other SPQR bases that we knew about and we were heading into a wealthy area of Queens which was reportedly held in an iron fist by the police.

At last, the woman's car came to a stop. She got out, leaving her bodyguards in the car. We were on a main street, and there were several bridal and tailor shops on the road. We parked at a good distance so we could observe as Percy shut off the engine. "What the hell is she doing?" I muttered.

The woman adjusted the handbag on her shoulder and ran a manicured hand through her red hair. She disappeared into a shop and I leaned forward to read the sign. "Tatiana's Tailors...What, is she getting a fucking dress fitted or something?"

Percy's fingers tapped on the steering wheel. Brow furrowed, he shook his head. "We need to go in after her."

Incredulous, I turned to him. "Are you insane? We can't let her see us!"

"You need to do it. Pretend to browse or something."

"What? Why me?"

He gave me a look. "Come on. There's a bunch of dresses in the window. What would I want with a dress?"

I raised a brow. "Guys can wear dresses, you know. It's not the fourteenth century."

Percy flushed. "You know what I mean!"

I glared at him, but after a moment I gave in. With a groan, I kicked open the car door. "Oh my God, fine. I'll be out in a minute." I headed into the store, trying to fabricate a lie in my head. I'm looking for a prom dress, maybe? I glanced around, trying to catch sight of the red-haired woman, but the store was huge and there were so many racks of beautiful, shimmering dresses that I felt a tad overwhelmed.

"You lost, darling?"

Shocked, I spun around to find an old woman standing behind me. Her name-badge had Tatiana written on it in neat, cursive letters. "Uh, no. I'm fine," I stuttered. "I was just, erm, looking for a dress. For my aunt's wedding."

Tatiana beamed. "Oh, I can help with that! What are the colours?"

"Sorry?"

"Your aunt's wedding colours, dearie."

I scrambled to think of a reply. I'd never been to a wedding, and immediately wished I'd chosen a different lie to run with. "Uh, red and grey." I winced. "She's going for a more modern look."

She nodded, smiling. I'd lied a lot of times in my life, but for some reason lying to this sweet old lady was making me feel like a dickhead. "Lovely choice. And you're a lucky thing—red's your colour. And grey would match your eyes. Would you like to browse, or shall I bring you some dresses that might suit you?"

There was still no sign of the red-haired woman so I figured it couldn't hurt to look in the fitting rooms. I gave Tatiana my most genuine smile. "Can you find me some then, if that's alright?"

"It's more than alright, love. Follow me." Beckoning for me to come with her, she led me through a door and into a large boutique. The walls were lined with gorgeous, ornate mirrors and there was a haberdashery in the corner which presumably held supplies for making adjustments. Rather than fitting rooms, there were several floral folding screens. Everything was so intricately beautiful that I felt jarringly out of place. "You can sit down, if you want," Tatiana told me. "I won't be a minute."

I did as she'd suggested, sitting carefully on a leather sofa by the wall. As Tatiana left, I realised that there was someone changing behind the wall. Their fur coat was draped over one of the folding screens, and I could see a moving shadow cast from the other side which most likely belonged to the red-haired woman.

My suspicions were confirmed when she stepped out from behind the folding screen, swathed in a gaudy indigo dress which hugged her torso and hips before flowing like water to her feet. What shocked me, however, was the black mask concealing the upper half of her face. It slid over her features like a second skin, a mould of liquid shadow. I had to admire Tatiana's craftsmanship.

She didn't notice me at first, only inspected herself in the mirror. I couldn't read her opinion of the ensemble from her masked expression, but she seemed to me like an aloof, detached kind of person anyway.

When her eyes caught mine in the mirror, I squashed the instinct to look away and resolutely held her gaze. "Hello," she said. To my surprise, her accent definitely wasn't American. Russian, maybe? Or Polish. I nodded—polite, but without continuing the conversation. Still, she pressed on. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Annabeth," I replied with a smile, then realised too late that I probably should've given a false name. "You?"

"Milena," she said airily, turning her eyes back to her own reflection. Definitely a Polish name, I thought to myself. She smoothed the dress' fabric where it was a little rumpled over her abdomen and didn't bother to look at me when she addressed me again. "How do you feel about the dress?" she asked.

I felt myself slipping into the role of someone else, realising that this was the perfect time to try and wring some information out of Milena. "It suits you," I said, standing up. "Contrasts well with your hair."

"It does, doesn't it?" Milena said absently. "And the mask? You like it?"

I nodded. "What's it for? A party?"

Milena gave me a slick smile over her shoulder. "Of sorts," she said. "Normally, I'd never go to such a cheap boutique, but the event's tomorrow and my usual place never makes dresses with only a few days' warning."

"Don't worry, the dress looks far from cheap," I reassured her. The event she was talking about was undoubtedly Ugliano's speakeasy, which meant Milena was probably someone of high standing amongst New York's criminal underground. "So the event's a masquerade?" I asked. "Sounds interesting."

"I'm sure it will be," Milena said. "Hold on one second." Obediently, I waited while she went behind the folding screen, then returned with two other pairs of black high heels. She held them up for me to look at them. One pair were platforms and the others were stilettos. "Which ones?"

I gestured to the stilettos. "The platforms' material is too matte. The shine on these ones will complement the sheen of your dress' material."

Milena hummed in consideration, then nodded. "You're right."

As Milena slipped on the stilettos, Tatiana returned with my dresses. There were two of them—one red, one grey. I already knew I couldn't buy any, but it wasn't as though I could just walk out of here now. Tatiana handed me the red dress first and placed the grey one on the sofa behind me. "Here you are, love. Give me a shout if you'd like to try any others."

"Thanks," I said, taking the dress. I could feel Milena's eyes on me as I disappeared behind one of the folding screens. As I undressed, I realised Percy had texted me. Everything okay?

All good. I'm trying to get some info out of the woman. Her name's Milena.

His reply was short and immediate. Be quick.

I slipped into the dress, melting into the cool, expensive feel of the silk fabric. To my surprise, the dress fitted me perfectly; Tatiana had excellent judgement.

I tried to reach around to do up the dress, but the zip was just out of my reach. "Milena?" I called, peeking around the side of my screen. "Could you do up this dress for me?"

Milena had just finished strapping up the platforms to try them on, but she nodded and strode over to help. "Of course." I held my hair out of the way as Milena carefully zipped up my dress. She cooed in admiration as I turned around. "Oh, my. It's gorgeous. What's it for?"

"My aunt's wedding," I replied, padding barefoot over to a mirror. The dress really was beautiful. It was all ruched around my hips, placing emphasis on the curve of my body, and the neckline was a delicate lace. I found myself caught up in the moment—I'd never been to any proms or formals and getting to try on boutique dresses was a rarity anyway. "Wow," I managed.

Milena stood behind me, smiling. "Lovely." She walked back behind her folding screen, saying, "Try not to outshine the bride."

I laughed. I looked at the dress for another moment, then turned away from the mirror. It was time to leave—Percy and I had a mission to plan. But as I did so, my gaze snagged on something by Milena's screen: her handbag. I froze, thoughts whirling. Would the envelope she'd walked out of the hideout with be in there? Before I could second-guess myself, I quickly rummaged through her handbag. My fingers closed around what felt like paper. I pulled it out, and there it was—an envelope. Holding it to my chest, I walked back behind my folding screen and changed back into my clothes as fast as I could. I wanted to get out before Milena emerged.

I left the store in a hurry, eager to get back to the car. When I slid inside, Percy said, "Thank God, I was getting worried. You were taking forever—"

"Drive," I demanded, already pulling my seatbelt over my body and clicking it into place.

Percy raised his hands in surrender as he started the engine. "Okay, okay!" It was only once we'd disappeared into the traffic that my heart rate started to slow down. I leaned back in my seat, exhaling slowly. Wow, I could never be a shoplifter.

"So, what happened?" Percy asked. "What did you find out?"

"Not much," I said. "Only that Milena plans to attend the speakeasy tomorrow, so she must be either part of SPQR or one of the gangs that Gabe plans to ally with. And that the event is going to be a masquerade," I added. "Which makes sense, as the gang leaders will feel much more at ease if their identity isn't immediately obvious."

Percy nodded slowly. "Okay, that's helpful to know. Anything else?"

I rummaged in my pocket for the envelope and took it out. "I also stole this from Milena."

"What does it say?"

Careful not to tear it, I slid my nail under the paper and eased the envelope open. Inside was a crisp, white piece of paper. It looked like a basic letter of correspondence—it'd been printed in simple, blocky sans serif font. I skimmed it. It was addressed to M. Biela, who I assumed was Milena. Percy leaned over my shoulder to look. "Her surname's Biela?" he mused. "The Biela family has some pretty bitter animosity towards SPQR, at least from what I remember. If even the Bielas are considering joining up with Gabe then we're fucked."

"Seems like an invite of sorts," I murmured. "Look, it mentions tomorrow's date right here. Then there's a comprehensive list of names; I guess that's everyone who's been invited. Again, that'll keep the gangs happy—they don't want anyone to attend who'll put them at risk." I recognised a few of the names, but not many.

"That'll make crashing the event far easier, then," Percy said. He sped forward, cutting a red light. "We should be able to buy off several of the invitees in order to get some of our own officers in."

"Still, there's just too many variables unaccounted for," I pointed out. "We know next to nothing about Gabe's security. Hell, this could be one massive, elaborate trap."

"I know. But if we let this slide, Gabe could manage to unite the city's gangs against us. You and I both know that this is our best chance."

Letting out a sigh, I leaned my head against the condensation-cold passenger's window. He was right. This mission, if executed perfectly, could be the first stepping stone towards taking down SPQR. "Then we've got a lot of work to do."

PERCY

Due to the fact that we had so little time to plan the operation, Annabeth and I spent almost every waking minute laying out preparations, organising our squads and working out how we were going to surveil the mission when the hideout was completely under SPQR's control. Will and Nico would be going undercover into the speakeasy as well as me and Annabeth—we'd used Milena's invitation that Annabeth had stolen to pay off several of the names on the list so we could take their places.

Thalia's job would be organising our squads on the outside and keeping track of everything going on. Her chemo had been making her a little unsteady on her feet, so it was better that she stayed on the sidelines. She'd also worked out several getaway plans in case things went south—which I was betting on.

The entire operation was going to be unpredictable, but the hope was that Annabeth, Will, Nico and I would be able to create some kind of diversion which would allow our squads to flood the building and commandeer it. I had no idea if Gabe would actually show his face, but if he did I would take every opportunity I could get to assassinate him.

Part of the whole planning process was finding outfits for those of us going undercover. The event was a masquerade, which was something of a blessing as we didn't have to worry about being recognised, but it meant that we also had to find some expensive masks that'd do a suitable job of hiding our faces. It would probably be fine for the others as SPQR hadn't come across them many times before, but if anyone in that building recognised me as Gabe Ugliano's stepson then we were all screwed. I really, really hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Soon enough, the evening of the mission rolled around. I stood in my dorm, frowning into the bathroom mirror at the tie slung around my neck that I was attempting to wrangle into submission. I'd never had much cause to wear one before, but this time it was part of the whole ensemble. It was made of a deep, shimmering green satin, contrasting with the black of my suit. I scowled—the tie was getting all twisted and my efforts were only making it worse. "God," I muttered, burying my face in my hands. The anxiety surrounding this whole operation was beginning to catch up to me. What if one of us was captured? What if my stepdad recognised me and killed me on sight? There were a million and one things that could go wrong with the operation, and in less than an hour we'd have to be walking into that speakeasy.

"You okay?" a familiar voice said from behind me.

I spun around, hands finding the edge of the sink behind me. Standing in front of me was Annabeth, looking beautiful as anything. She was wearing a fitted, silky grey dress that contoured her body so well that my mouth instantly went dry. Hanging around her neck was a sleek, feathered mask that looked like the face of a bird. I already knew it'd look lovely on her. "Yeah, sorry," I said. "Just freaking out a bit."

Annabeth nodded. "I know. But we're gonna be fine, alright?" She reached up to detangle the mess of my tie and began to knot it correctly with deft, careful fingers. "Everything's in position."

I smiled. "Thanks. I know it'll be fine, I'm just...being stupid."

"Yes, you are." She pressed a kiss to my cheek and picked up the green, shiny mask I'd left by the sink and handed it to me. "If you're ready, let's get downstairs. We're needed."

It was late evening outside and the sun had almost completely disappeared behind New York's towering skyline. Though it was cold, it thankfully wasn't raining so it was easy enough to get all our equipment loaded up into our vans. Percy and I convened with Nico and Will before we left, the first of which was wearing a deep blue suit with a black mask and the second of which was wearing a black suit with a gold tie and matching mask. Though the masks weren't perfect disguises, none of us were instantly recognisable which was mostly all that mattered.

"Is everyone ready?" Will asked, clipping a pistol onto his belt beneath his suit jacket. Our squads nodded, as determined as I'd ever seen them. "Then get into the vans. You'll remain hidden until Thalia gives you a signal." She was already in position outside the building with her squad, and had been reporting to the rest of us all afternoon.

Nico and Will left for their van while Annabeth and I walked over to ours. I climbed into the driver's seat and reached over to adjust my side mirror. Annabeth quickly finished strapping a sheath to her upper thigh as I revved the engine. "Good to go?" I asked.

She nodded. "I am," she said. "This is going to work, you know. This is the first step in bringing down Ugliano." Behind her mask, she looked inexplicably, strangely beautiful. Not for the first time, I wondered how someone like her had ever fallen in love with someone like me.

I grinned. "Kiss for luck?"

She shot me a scorching look, but there was affection behind it. "We're on the job," she berated me. After a moment, though, she broke. The kiss she gave me was short and sweet: a promise. Returning her eyes to the road, she clipped on her seat-belt. "Now drive, Jackson."

I drove.

It only took us twenty minutes to reach the hideout. From the outside, it didn't look like there was an underground event going on. Still, I supposed that was the point.

Annabeth and I got out, but our squad stayed in the back of the van. We'd need them later, after the diversion. I checked that my gun and spare ammo was securely tucked to my belt, then surveyed the street. Several masked individuals kept walking around the side of the building at intervals, which was where Milena had entered the other day. "Guess we go in that way," I mused.

Annabeth nodded in agreement. "You remember your alias?"

"Yeah. Cassian Hope."

"Okay, good."

Annabeth and I's aliases were actually the partnered-up leaders of two gangs in Brooklyn, which was useful because it made sense that we would go in together. It had been expensive to pay them off but hopefully this mission would be worth the money. Will and Nico were going in ten minutes after us two in order to avoid suspicion.

The alleyway beside the building was dark and moss-covered, derelict in its entirety. We came to a set of stone steps, at the bottom of which there was a heavy door. Annabeth approached first. I followed her, heart beating in my mouth. She tucked a flyaway strand of blonde hair behind her ear before knocking once, twice.

A gruff voice echoed from behind the door. "State your name and the password."

Annabeth cleared her throat. In the silence before she spoke, I had time to panic about whether she would correctly remember the password from Milena's letter. "This is Yasmin Creeve and Cassian Hope. The weight of a dead dog is used again and again."

Without a reply, the door swung open. A security guard stood behind it, a slick silver gun in his left hand. He gestured for us to enter. Annabeth inclined her head politely in his direction as we walked in. From here, I could hear the hubbub of voices and classical music playing. We followed the sounds, steeling ourselves. Annabeth's pinkie finger brushed against mine, the only comfort she could offer.

We descended a few flights of stairs, and it slowly became apparent to me that this whole space had been dug out a while ago. The walls were crumbling stone, supported by wood pillars. No wonder this hideout had never been exposed by the police—there weren't even any official records that it existed.

As we reached the bottom of the stairs, the sounds of the event got even louder. A pair of double doors loomed before us. I pushed them open, exhaling a quick breath as I slipped the veneer of Cassian Hope over my face. I couldn't be recognised. Not now.

I had to hand it to my stepdad; his speakeasy was beautifully furnished. Tiles of carved mahogany lined the ceiling and luscious red velvet curtains cascaded from the walls. A bar surface stretched from one side of the room to the other, attended by several finely-dressed bartenders. The entire room was lit up by red lamps, casting everyone's masked faces in dim light. It worked in our favour that the room was dimly lit—the chances were therefore even lower that anyone would be able to fully discern our faces.

Every party-goer was masked. Some wore simple masks while some were elaborately embellished. Most had a drink in their hand, but I didn't think anyone was likely to let themselves get really drunk. The mood was incredibly tense as it was—everyone here was from the city's criminal underground. Many were rivals, even enemies. The only thing currently holding them together were Gabe's promises of power and wealth if they helped him take down SPQR.

At the front of the speakeasy was a low, wooden stage. A grand piano had been set up in the centre, and there was a woman sitting at it. She coaxed a beautiful melody out of the instrument, hands sure and certain on the keys.

Most interesting of all, though, was the long table in the centre of the room. There were enough chairs around it to hold all the invitees, but no one was sitting at it yet. I wasn't sure what we were waiting for, but I figured the reason would make itself clear before long.

For about half an hour, Annabeth and I mingled with the small crowd. When we were speaking to each gang leader, Annabeth became a different person entirely. She became a silver-fingered flirt, an intimidating strategist, moulding herself around the personalities of everyone we spoke to. I had no idea who she'd become but I was thankful for it; without her, I would've been lost.

The latest person we'd found ourselves in a conversation with was one Valerie Evans. She was a tall, slim woman with dark hair and a rasping voice. A purple mask adorned with rhinestones concealed her features. "How are you enjoying the wine?" she asked me, gesturing to the glass in my hand.

"It's passable," I replied. "I think Mr Ugliano could've picked something a little more refined."

Valerie laughed. "Oh, do we have ourselves a wine connoisseur?"

I shrugged. "Not in the least. I prefer whiskey, to be completely honest."

"And what about you, Yasmin?" she asked, turning to Annabeth.

Annabeth smiled. "Oh, I'm not much of a drinker." She looped her arm through mine. As she leaned against me, I fought off a blush. Valerie blanched, though tried her best to hide it. Annabeth continued. "So, what brings you here today?"

"Same as you, I suppose. The idea of a united front against the Organisation appeals to me," Valerie said. Over the course of this evening, I'd quickly learned that to outsiders, the New York branch was referred to as the Organisation. It seemed that hatred for us had been stewing for a long time. I wouldn't admit it, but it was smart of my stepfather to choose now as his time to strike.

"I'm willing to negotiate," Annabeth said, running a hand through her styled blonde hair. "I've never liked SPQR, but I'd like to hear what Ugliano has to offer."

Valerie nodded to us both. "Well, I look forward to working with you both. Enjoy your evening."

"You too," I replied.

Once she'd left, Annabeth cast me a look. "This is worrying me," she murmured under her breath. "There's so much unrest. It seems like everyone has a vendetta against us."

I nodded. "It's made me more certain than ever about taking down SPQR. It's the only thing keeping the relationship between all these gangs intact. Without it, they'll scatter."

"I know," Annabeth said. "But that's easier said than done."

Suddenly, the music ground to a stop. The pianist left the stage and disappeared behind the drapes. Everyone fell silent, the tension in the air so thick it was almost tangible. Someone walked onto the stage, barely a shadow in the dim light. They tapped the microphone, causing a resounding pulse to echo through the speakeasy. Removing the microphone from its stand, they stepped into the limelight.

I stopped breathing. Though he was wearing a mask, I'd have recognised him anywhere. Unable to stop myself, I grabbed Annabeth's hand.

My stepfather smiled. "Good evening, everyone. We have much to discuss tonight."

thanks for reading, I'd love to hear your thoughts in the reviews! so sorry about the lack of an update last sunday—I didn't have much time to write, but hopefully you enjoyed this chapter. we're on the home stretch as there's only a few chapters left to go and I'm super excited about next week's update!

as always, you can find this fic's aesthetic board on pinterest at my account suicidal_stolen_art :)