They both laughed.
"I like her," Noble chuckled. "She's got that dark humor."
"Next round's on me," she said.
The bartender served them shots of tequila.
"To long life," she toasted.
"To long life," they echoed, glasses clinking.
Moments later, she turned to Toby. "Come. I want to show you something."
Drunk and grinning, Toby stumbled after her, down a hall into a dimly lit room.
She moved slowly, deliberately. The mask stayed on as she undressed—seduction in every step.
She handed him another drink. He downed it without question.
Seconds later, his vision swam. His knees buckled.
As he slumped forward, she reached into her boot, pulled out a blade, and without a word—*stabbed*.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
And again.
*Eight times.*
Blood soaked the floor.
Toby didn't move.
She stepped back, breathing calmly, then pulled out her phone.
She dialed.
"It's done," she said coldly. "Call the cleaning crew."
Back at the bar, Noble was still laughing to himself, finishing off another drink. He glanced around, realizing Toby hadn't returned.
"Guess he got lucky," he muttered with a grin.
Just then, the bartender placed another drink in front of him.
"From the lady," he said, nodding toward the far end of the bar.
There she was—the same masked woman, this time in a black coat, legs crossed, staring directly at him.
Noble smirked. "Round two, I guess."
He picked up the glass and walked over, sliding into the seat beside her.
"You don't waste time," he said, eyes glinting with amusement.
She tilted her head. "Neither do you, it seems."
He took a sip, then leaned in. "Where's your friend?"
"She's... entertaining Toby."
He chuckled darkly. "Hope he can keep up."
"Doubt it," she whispered.
Before he could respond, her hand slid under the table. He felt something sharp press against his gut.
"What the—"
She leaned in close, her voice like ice. "You think justice sleeps?"
His eyes widened. "Who are you—?"
"I'm the echo of every cry you ignored. The last thing you'll ever feel . I am the ultimate revenge ."
With one clean thrust, she drove the blade into his side. He gasped, choking, trying to scream—but she held his mouth, smiling behind her mask as he bled out in the booth.
The music played on. No one noticed.
When she stood, she whispered, "Two down."
She walked out calmly, vanishing into the night.
The Royals had struck again.