Kandy knelt beside him, pulled a tiny magnetic scalpel from her hairpin, and sliced open the skin at the base of his skull. One click. The fang-drive was hers.
Serpien’s eyes rolled back. He crumpled.
“Serpien is sleeping,” she said. “Drive retrieved. And tell wardrobe I need new heels. These have blood on them.”
The neon snake sign of the Serpiente casino coiled and uncoiled above the Bangkok rain. Inside, the air was thick with jasmine smoke and bad intentions. Kandy didn’t breathe it in. Kandy tasted it—like old silver and betrayal. Kandy knelt beside him, pulled a tiny magnetic
Serpien snapped his fingers. The first man lunged.
“I think I haven’t broken a sweat,” Kandy said. “And these are Manolos.”
She was the Hi Kix Kick Ass Model Habit. A mouthful, yes, but so was a roundhouse to the teeth. By day, she graced magazine covers in Milan. By night, she was a mixed-fighting retrieval agent for a shadow syndicate that paid in uncut sapphires. Her habit? She never lost. And she always, always kicked high. Serpien’s eyes rolled back
Tonight’s target: a flash drive shaped like a serpent’s fang, hidden in the spinal implant of a rogue bio-hacker codenamed Serpien.
He lunged—not with fists, but with a neuro-toxin spat from a gland in his throat. Kandy twisted. The venom sizzled past her ear. In the same motion, she chambered her right leg and unleashed her signature move: the Hi Kix Kick Ass —a question-mark kick that started low, then snapped over his guard and smashed into his temple.
She stood, wiped her shin on his silk shirt, and walked out through the casino’s kitchen, past stunned cooks holding ladles like weapons. “Drive retrieved
She smiled. “I’m dressed for a photoshoot . The fight is just cardio.”
Outside, the rain had stopped. Her handler’s voice buzzed in her ear: “Kandy. Status.”