I wasn’t surprised. When the Dark Lord gave an order, things rarely went smoothly, and this particular task—sneaking into the heart of the Ministry—had disaster written all over it. But I couldn’t care less. The adrenaline, the risk—it was exactly what I thrived on. Of course, I wasn’t expecting to be paired with her.

Raven Snape. As though I needed a reminder of how much of a wet blanket she was. She was everything I wasn’t—calm, composed, calculating. Always in control. A bloody perfect little soldier for the Dark Lord.

I grinned, a sharp smirk stretching across my face as I watched her move ahead of me, her long, black robes flowing like some sort of ethereal shadow. I followed, keeping a safe distance—intentionally. Let her lead, let her do what she did best. I’d take care of things when the time came. I wasn’t exactly a team player, but this was how the game worked, wasn’t it? A Death Eater was a Death Eater.

Still, I couldn’t stop the flicker of something—something old, something far too familiar—whenever our eyes met. It was hard to ignore the way her quiet intelligence seemed to command the air between us. How even the smallest flicker of her expression made my pulse quicken.

But I wasn’t here for feelings. We were on a mission.

“Don’t get yourself killed,” Raven’s voice was quiet, like a warning, but I could hear the edge of concern in it. It annoyed me more than it should have. What was she worried about? Me? The Cassie Lestrange who had survived worse than this? It didn’t help that I could hear the subtle undertones in her voice—the way she always acted like she was better than me. So fucking poised. So damn controlled.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” I muttered under my breath, though I doubted she heard me. Her back was already to me as she surveyed the hallway in front of us, eyes darting over the shadows like she could read every inch of the space, predict what came next.