Chapter 248 Kill.

Chapter 248: 248 Kill.

If there was a more fundamentally evil corporate structure on the planet than Firefly Industries, I hadn’t found it yet.

I had never actually met the CEO of Firefly, which suited me just fine. I had my hands entirely full dealing with his immediate subordinate.

I wasn’t too proud to admit I needed Lacey Davenport’s help on this one. Her offer back at the museum gala had arrived at the exact right moment.

Usually, whenever I partnered up with Lacey, she was the one hiring me to throw a fight against whatever new, photogenic hero Firefly was paying to shill their latest energy drink or tactical body armor.

This current team-up was a brand-new prospect for both of us, and I was completely on board.

Corporate synergy, however, was only half the explanation. Truth be told, the escalating bullshit with Legion was starting to keep me awake at night.

I didn’t need to deal with his demonic cultists crashing my carefully choreographed sets any more than strictly necessary.

Lacey had the deep pockets and the real estate connections to get me temporary access to a high-tech research lab on zero notice.

More importantly, Firefly facilities came hardwired with heavy blast doors, private security details, and automated defense grids.

If that multi-level-marketing demon tried to possess a security guard and interrupt the second act of our script, Firefly’s automated turrets would handle the pest control for me.

I parked the Cruiser at the base of the looming black glass obelisk that served as Firefly headquarters. I stepped out onto the pristine concrete plaza.

Vanessa was already waiting near the revolving doors. She had ditched the magical-girl cloak again, dressed in her casual street clothes—heavy silver bangles, denim jeans, and a baggy white hoodie.

She crossed her arms and shot me a fiercely defiant look, as if daring me to critique her deeply unprofessional attire for a corporate boardroom meeting.

It was a total waste of energy. I had sat through tense underworld negotiations with people who exclusively wore animal pelts.

Ungo the Caveman routinely showed up to union meetings wearing nothing but a frayed loincloth and carrying a wooden club, and the guy was an absolute consummate professional with a startlingly brilliant grasp of compound interest and offshore tax shelters. Wardrobe didn’t mean a thing in this industry.

I just gave her a curt nod and gestured toward the glass doors. "Shall we?"

"I suppose," Vanessa muttered, her single visible eye casting an uneasy glance up the sheer face of the towering black skyscraper.

She was right to be wary. Firefly was one of the largest defense and lifestyle conglomerates in the hemisphere.

They practically owned a private army of registered supers.

Mostly, they kept their capes busy filming commercials and attending charity galas, but if the board of directors ever needed to quietly secure a lithium mine or enforce a patent dispute overseas,

Firefly could deploy a strike team faster than the federal government. Forget staging a coup in a banana republic, Firefly could conquer the whole produce aisle if they felt like it.

Not that I was sweating the details today. Lacey was a ruthless, cold-blooded operator who would happily throw her own mother under a cement truck to bump Firefly’s quarterly stock by half a point.

But that predictability was exactly why I trusted her. You could always rely on Lacey Davenport to do whatever was best for Firefly’s profit margins and, by extension, her own bonus.

Today, that meant making my job as easy as possible.

I was proven right the second we walked into the lobby. The grim, heavily armed security contractors in unmarked black uniforms didn’t even ask for our ID.

They took one look at me, tapped their earpieces, and immediately waved us through the metal detectors toward the VIP elevators.

We stepped inside the polished steel car. I hit the button for the executive penthouse.

As the elevator began its smooth, silent ascent, the awkward tension in the confined space grew heavy. I turned my head to look at the young hero.

"Alright, listen to me carefully," I said, keeping my voice low. "First rule of engagement today: when we sit down to talk to Lacey, do not agree to anything."

Vanessa gave me a deeply confused, defensive glare. "What? Why would I agree to anything she says?"

"Trust me. Just don’t."

"Trust you? A villain?" she scoffed, gripping the strap of her purse tighter.

"Exactly," I said, maintaining absolute, patient eye contact. "I am a professional villain. Which means I know exactly what I’m talking about when it comes to predators.

"Lacey is going to throw a massive pile of incentives your way. She is going to make it sound like the easiest, most logical decision of your life.

"Do not sign a single piece of paper, and do not make a verbal commitment until you have a solid forty-eight hours to think about the trap she just laid for you. I am completely serious. That woman could talk the skin off a fresh apple."

"Hmph," Vanessa snorted, flicking her head so her platinum hair fell forward to obscure her eye again.

Well, I tried to warn her.

The elevator chimed a soft, melodic note. The steel doors slid open, revealing the pristine, minimalist reception area of the executive floor.

Down a short, carpeted hall, a sleek, half-circle desk constructed from brushed steel waited for us. Sitting behind it was Julia, Lacey’s personal secretary.

Brick & Stone stood up as we approached. Suits on mountains that had gotten less and less hostile.

"Miles," Brick said, his voice smooth and pleasantly synthetic. "Excellent timing." Stone reached up, tapping the earpiece. "Miss Davenport? Your three o’clock appointment has arrived."

They paused, listening to a silent reply transmitted directly into the earpiece. They offered a curt, efficient nod and gestured toward the towering frosted-glass double doors behind them.

"Go right on in."

"Thanks," I said.

I took a heavy breath, mentally bracing myself for whatever nightmare scenario lay waiting behind the glass.

You never truly knew what Lacey was going to spring on you when you walked into her territory.

I had walked into this office before and found her casually feeding classified federal documents into a shredder. Preparing for the worst was usually a wasted effort, but old habits die hard. Here goes nothing.

I grabbed the heavy steel handle and pushed the door open.

I found a jarringly normal scene.

I knew the architectural layout of Lacey’s office incredibly well by now.

The executive herself was currently standing dead-center in the middle of the floor. She was dressed in a tight black blouse and a high, tailored pencil skirt.

The fabric was impeccably professional, yet aggressively tailored to highlight every single striking aspect of her figure.

Her dark hair was coifed and combed with the kind of ruthless precision only someone with daily access to a high-end personal beautician could manage.

She wore her signature dark, mirrored sunglasses, hiding her eyes completely from the afternoon glare of the windows.

"Miles! So exceptionally good to see you," Lacey beamed, her mirrored lenses shifting immediately to lock onto my companion. "And the magnificent Hex. My, my. Excellent bone structure, and might I add, a truly magnificent chest. The demographic polling and merchandise branding opportunities alone... welcome, welcome. It is an absolute pleasure to have you here."

"Uhmm... Thanks," Vanessa muttered warily, instinctively crossing her arms over her hoodie.

I could hardly blame the kid for being freaked out. Lacey constantly gave off the distinct, suffocating aura of a great white shark actively hunting for its next meal.

And judging by the sharp, hungry way the corner of her perfectly painted lips curled upward, it looked exactly like she had just spotted a fresh bucket of chum bleeding into the water.

"I am so incredibly glad you could make the time to attend," Lacey said, her voice flowing as smooth and sweet as warm honey. "Unfortunately, the museum auction was a bit of an unprofessional setting for a proper introduction, but I watched the footage. You did a fantastic job! A true, inspiring heroine. Tell me, Hex. Have you ever considered maximizing your potential for good?"

"Ex... excuse me?" Vanessa asked, her brow furrowing in deep befuddlement.

"I am simply noting—if you don’t mind a bit of corporate candor—that you are quite the impressive specimen of a modern hero," Lacey said, taking a slow, predatory step forward. "You are young, highly attractive, and immensely talented. A super who clearly deserves to be utilizing your gifts to their absolute maximum potential. But we at Firefly recognize that being an independent vigilante is a brutally complicated, exhausting job."

Lacey stopped a few feet away, folding her hands neatly in front of her skirt.

"Patrolling the dark streets. Fighting for the greater good. Defeating the bad guys. It is noble work. But that sort of chaotic lifestyle doesn’t exactly leave you with a lot of free time to manage a civilian portfolio.

"Tell me, Hex. Could you even imagine trying to hold down a nine-to-five job while doing all of that just to pay your rent?"

"It has been... a little tough," Vanessa admitted, her defensive posture dropping just a fraction.

"Of course it has," Lacey purred softly, moving straight in for the kill.