#elriel fanfition

[casuallivi]

Flower and Shadow (spy au) 

Chapter 3

Summary: When you’re stuck in a men’s world, being strong is your greatest weapon.

Word Count: 2386

Chapter 2

The Invitation

Tuesday. Somewhere in Hewn’s underground.

“Chose.” She said with confidence.

“Left eye.” He answered amused.

The sound of fake conversation, child laughter and mechanical wireline mingled together. A fluorescent light blinking on the far corner of the left wall. Fifteen mannequins, dressed as regular civilians, were swinging from left to right, back and forth. A wave of nausea rolled down her bones, her vision wobbling. She closed one eye taking a deep breath, waiting for the ringing in her ears to cease, her brown orb following the fake plumber zigzagging between the other targets, his blue overall coming in and out of focus. She pulled the trigger.

BANG!

Shadow sucked his teeth when a nun-mannequin passed right in front of the plumber, the sound of a bullet hitting the metal chap echoing from the 75 yards down. The glowing timer on the wall chimed, indicating their hour was up. “Well, you tried.”

Elain took her cap off, quirking her brown at him. “Tried?”

Elain preferred sharp and silent weapons rather than loud guns. She liked knifes that sliced through skin soft as butter, rings with pop-up blades for quick multiple stabs in the jugular, honshu push daggers to be hidden in her boots, allowing her to throw knifes and hit targets at a distance. When she was independent, Elain couldn't use her blades regularly or someone could learn her pattern, so she switched between knifes, gun, rope, hands. Now that she was a full plagued agent, she didn't have to worry about sending a message, for sending a message was part of her job.

She delighted in the subtle way his eyes changed when the mannequin was in front of them. A perfect hole through the left eye. Shadow whistled.  

“Nice shoot.”

“I know.” The smile didn’t reach her eyes, even though she was pleased with the compliment. “Everything good for tomorrow?”

“He’s expecting us in his vacation home. Insisted we stayed in his family villa.”

Azriel perched his hip against the table, watching Flower disassemble the gun with mastery, gloves coming off next. He gestured for her to come closer and she stepped in front of him, spreading her arms to expose the lateral straps of the bulletproof vest – one she could easily take off by herself. Not that she would. After that his hands found their way to her waist, turning her around, undoing the messy ponytail in attempt to relieve the pain her head. Sighing against his ridiculously good attention, Elain rested her back on his front undoing the first two buttons of her blouse seeking to ease the suffocating feeling. He held her forearm, two fingers landing on her pulse point, eyes focused on the watch on his wrist. “How did you know?”

Elain had popped four pills before entering here, hoping the double dosage would help the medicine to kick in quicker.

“The trigger trembled,” he answered once he was done counting. “Fitty-seven.” He commented worried about her weak pulse, then, “you’re blond,” more casually. He picked her up, her legs instantly closing around his middle as he marched to the elevator.

“My wig almost fell off last time. I’m going full ginger before we get back.”

For the past two months, Mr. and Mrs. Auburn have been making their names known, the elusive European couple emergence causing quite a stir amongst New York finest. For them, Jurian Auburn was a notorious entrepreneur and investor, who was finally back in society after mourning the loss of his father, the ex-CEO of Autumm Inc., God bless his soul. Prior to his father death, Jurian had married Vassa Auburn, a sociality born with a golden spoon.

The couple was supposedly creating connections in America by attending the most exclusives parties, charity events and auctions, always make sure to keep their noses high and their bids even higher. While the husband kept the finances smooth, the wife was a true fashionista with 105 million followers on Instagram, who abandoned Il Fiore, a prestigious fashion school in Millan, and refused to be on the cover of British Vogue twice, claiming “divergence of creative style” in both occasions.

Their conjoined effort for recognition had finally attracted the attention of the right people in their last social.

As Vassa socialized with high society wives and their spawns, she made sure to nurture a rival who was twenty years her junior –not one of her best moments if she could be honest, but a job was a job. Annoying Alexander Vanserra, who happened to be Beron Vanserra’s favorite grandchild, resulted in a brat pushing a graceful lady into a decorative pond. His mother, who came from an unprivileged background, went white as ghost watching everyone whispering and pointing fingers, his grandfather turning purple from anger as photographers snapped photos that would never be published. Vassa made a show out of getting out of the pond, falling again, having to be rescued by her furious husband, who did a slow recognition of everyone present before draping a towel around her. The gossip stopped at once, Beron pulling her husband to a particular conversation, apologizing to him (and not her!) inviting them to a lowkey social gathering at one of his vacation homes.

“When will you return to your hair?”

“Which one?”

“Golden brown. Wavy. Beautiful. The one you had when I met you.”

“Who said that was my hair?”

“Wasn’t it?” inside the elevator, he pushed the “P” for parking lot before return the hand to sustain her, searching for her eyes. “I’ll take whatever color or size you choose, but I have to confess. That one suits you the best. A perfect golden halo crowning the pretty angel that you are.”

Elain rolled her eyes, hiding between his neck and shoulder to prevent him from seeing her smile.

“Whatever you say ewok.”

He groaned. “Enough with the ewok thing, it wasn’t funny in the first time, it isn’t now.”

“Shave that fur of and I might consider calling you something else.”

“Fur? Fur?” he repeated offended, making sure to rub his beard-covered-cheek to her soft one, smirking when she held his face away from her. “I’ll have you know the chicks dig it.”

“The chicks are lying. No one digs that.” Elain sneaked one hand inside his jacket, searching for the chocolate she knew he was prone to keep within reach, taking a bite and offering him the other half.

“A beard can add to the fun you know.”

“Sure, if you are into skin rash. Which I’m not.”

She cleaned the smear of chocolate on the corner of his mouth, licking her thumb afterwards.

Azriel watched she work her little tongue around her finger. He held her firmer, unable to stop the lust from bleeding in his eyes, yet his gut kept screeching like a crazy bat, worried about her health. He knew she hadn’t slept well this week, going as far as sneaking under his covers last night, claiming her room was too cold. “I think my heater is broken,” she shivered furrowing closer to him. In truth, she was the one burning up.

He cleared his throat. “We don’t have to go tomorrow.”

Her relaxed expression disappeared in an instant

“What?”

“His interest can grow if we play a little hard to get. You know Vanserra, he buys that crap better than most.”

Her face soured. She jumped on the floor.

“Listen to me because I’m only going to say this once. I do enjoy your company, but that doesn’t mean I’ll drag this mission on.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. You’re sick–”

She clamped his mouth shut. “But not dead. You’ll drive us back, I’ll take a nice nap and tomorrow we will be in his Villa.” If eyes could throw daggers, Shadow would be stabbed. “Just like we planned.”

Azriel gave her a dirty look.

Elain matched him.

They didn’t talk on the ride back.

.

.

.

The fire alarm ringed incessantly, dense black smoke clogging the air in the bedroom, high flames licking the wall, quickly reaching the curtain. The maids screamed from the doorway as she stood in the middle, arms crossed and a pout in her face.

"Mrs. Auburn, please!" Violet, the older maid, begged with tear falling down. "Please madam, come to this side I beg you."

“You have ruined my breakfast!” Elain shot back at her with a thick Italian accent, stomping her foot like a petulant child.

"I'll make you another ma'am, please come out, it's not safe."

"You served me a cold meal! Are all servants in this house this stupid?" She scoffed sporting her best bitch face.

Elain covered her face when the fire roared higher, painting the ridiculously expensive French ceiling in a shade of smoky black. Woops. Elain made a mental note to tip them well after this hell, maybe find them new jobs if they turned out to be fired from this household. The maids cried with the arrivew of the butler caring a fire extinguisher, his face a mask of pure horror. By the time he managed to put out the fire, the poor man was breathless.

"Madam Auburn," he panted cleaning the sweat on his forehead, trying to recompose. "What happened, madam?"

"What happened?" She repeated incredulous, pushing her bright ginger hair away from her face, "the lousy maids you sent me happened! I had to heat my own meal!” Elain pointed to a discharged hair blower on the corner, the cable raw and sizzling. “Do you have any idea how humiliated I was?"

"Vassa."

The single word had enough charge to quiet everyone present, the maids squeaking at the sudden presence of the muscular man behind them. They made a courtesy and stepped aside, allowing him inside the room.

"Darling, you're here!" she clapped her hands excited and went to him. "You had no idea how much I suffered! These incompetent lot-"

"Enough Vassa." He didn't scream, didn't raised his voice, yet all of them flinched under the utter command.

Elain watched him turn to the employees who had formed a single line, opening his wallet and slipped a couple of hundreds into their hands. “I apologize for my wife, she’s still young and immature. I would appreciate if you could keep what happen today between us,” of course they wouldn’t. By nightfall her brattiness would be a hot topic, just like she planned. “I will pay for the damage myself. Now, excuse us please.” He pointed to the door.

"No!" Elain stomped her foot again, making the employees unsure of who to follow. "I want them all them fired! I want those maids on the street!”

“Quiet!” Azriel snarled, loosing his temper. He loosened his tie, not wasting a second glance at them. "Out. Now."

The servants scurried away as fast as they could, closing the double doors to press their ears against it, vaguely listen to the discussion between the couple who appear to be so prim in the magazines.

They heard a slap.

"You had no right!” Vassa Auburn screamed.

"I have no right?” The husband stroke back. “You had no right! You are embarrassing me! Do you know how hard I worked to get here?”

Inside the room, Flower and Shadow worked in synchrony to keep the fight going while checking the place for bugs or cameras.

"Oooh, I'm embarrassing you? You embarrass me! Who do you think you are? I'm an Auburn, I'll not be treated like this!" Elain screamed catching the drive he tossed her. She opened her bag searching for the adapter to plug it in her phone.

"I made you an Auburn honey, don't forget that." He mocked, going to the door. “I’m not letting a spoiled bitch ruining my chances of investing!"

“What did you call me?” Elain pointed to the vase beside the entrance and he pushed it down, the expensive ceramic cracking all over the floor. "I regret the day we married, you were nothing but a lowly investor who married me for my money!"

"What money? You don't even work!"

"I don't have to work, I am a heir, an influencer. Do you have any idea of how many followers I have? People worship me!"

Outside, the butter clicked his tongue, gesturing for the maids to follow him, leaving the couple to argue alone. Rich people were the worst.

"They’re gone."

Elain massaged her throat, scanning the files on the screen. "Gosh, my throat is sore."

Shadow sat beside her with a glass of water. "You set fire to the room?"

"A mild one. You said you wanted a distraction.”

He laughed. "I meant for you to fake a headache or something."

Elain shrugged.

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah." Azriel asked for her phone, selecting the right file and adjusting the screen for the both of them. "This is the original outline for the mansion from the archives of the City Hall. Vanserra had dozen modifications approved after, but the secret lies in the original structure."

Elain studied the architectural plant from Beron’s main house, conjuring a 3D model in her head.

"Any room can be a vault."

"Yes. Except you wouldn't want to announce to the world you keep your treasures near your family, would ya? Now compare this plant with the photos from the last renovation." He opened another file, showing her pictures from inside the house, taken three years ago. He pointed at the columns situated between the 13th and 14th bedroom on the third floor, "You see this? The walls here are not aligned as the rest, that leaves an extra space between these rooms. Is not much once you convert the scale, but it’s good enough for a tunnel.”

“You thing he biuld and underground room?”

“Probably.”

"Where's the security room?"

"Here." He pointed at a room in the first floor, near the kitchen.

“His wife is having a Gala on the weekend, is a good cover to roam around, do some research.”

“Can you get us an invite?” she nodded. Azriel hummed appreciatively, closing the open tabs. “Let’s fuck this asshole.”

Elain chuckled, getting up. Shadow held her wrist, tentatively.

“About yesterday,”

“No,” she shook her head. “No. We have work to do husband. Let’s focus on that for now.”

She patted his chest and left.

......

I don’t really know how to do a tag list, i hope this find you anyway :D

#elriel fanfic #elriel #elain archeron #azriel #elain x azriel #elriel fanfition #my writing #flower and shadow #chapter 3 #the name is bond #elain bond