Johan looked at the tattoo, the runes written in a clear, straight line. It was still healing. He ran one finger lightly over the raised, scabby skin, enjoying the cracked feel. It was as if this part of him were emerging from a cocoon. There had been other transformations over the years. The tattoos, yes, but also his body shape, his power. He might have been a chubby, unremarkable young man working at his father’s computer hardware company, in the mailroom to begin with—to build character; his old man was so uncreative—and gradually working his way up to the big seat. Johan became a different creature, though, the same genus, but more relentless, more breathtaking.

“You forge,” he’d said to his father not so long ago, “I wield, but we both know the sword.”

“Wield?” Aksel Fly had laughed and looked at Johan over the top of his computer screen. “You make annoying videos and post them online. You know nothing of the sword.”

Johan was content for his father to believe that.

The limo stopped smoothly. Liberty asked, “Who is this girl, anyway?” Johan ignored her. She even ignored herself, flopping back into her seat, grinding her jaw. “Silver Lake fucking stinks of skunk. You ever notice that?” The molly was kicking in.

Johan looked out the window, at the light squeezing between the blinds in the third-floor apartment. He smiled, glanced at his phone. Fifteen minutes since he’d texted. Right on time.

“You want me to get her?” Xander asked.

Johan leaned out of his seat and poured two flutes of champagne. “No. She’ll come to me.”

Her apartment light flicked off a moment later, then she was on the front steps, moving hesitantly toward the limo. The driver stepped out. He opened the rear door for her.

Kitty crouched, looked inside before committing.

“Sweetie!” Enzo said colorfully, and beckoned.

Johan smiled and offered the champagne.

Johan had Xander take the seat beside his so that Kitty had to sit next to Liberty. He did this for two reasons: one, so that Kitty wouldn’t feel uncomfortable, and two, so that he could look at her without turning his head.

“I’m sure you remember Xander,” Johan said, gesturing toward his mean and muscled assistant. Kitty nodded awkwardly, no doubt recalling the violent incident at Fusion 44, and perhaps surprised to see him riding in the back of the limo, as opposed to behind the wheel.

“I remember,” Kitty said.

Johan continued with the introductions, then raised his glass. Kitty nodded, whispered, “Hi,” and “Hello,” and raised hers. She sipped and sat stiffly in her seat.

“Your hair,” Thiago gushed.

“I change it up,” Kitty responded, a flutter in her voice. “I’ve had it like this awhile, though. True to my roots.”

“What do you do?” This was Liberty.

“For work?”

“Yeah, for work.”