We made our way toward the entrance of Diamond Alley. The shadows of the huge buildings swallowed us as we traded open space for cramped alleyway.

My dress shoes clipped regally against the concrete while Kes’s biker boots crunched and stomped. Nila made no noise at all, drifting forward in her flat ballet shoes, so young and innocent.

For a month, I’d lived without her. I’d visited the Weaver quarters often and fingered the half-finished designs she’d been working on.

The place had been empty, howling with injustice. I couldn’t stay in there long, too attuned to her smell and lingering presence. I’d told myself it was to desensitise myself for when she returned, but in reality, I was looking into the future—trying to see how I’d feel when she’d be gone for good.

Her room would be even emptier.

Her soul vanished forever.

Kes stopped halfway down the alley at a door. He knocked three times in a systemic code, and looked above the bombproof veneer to a camera.

A screen lit up with the face of one of our trusted guards. He glanced at us, nodded, then switched the screen to a keypad that scanned fingerprints as well as demanded a nine-digit passkey.

Nila remained silent as Kes entered everything he needed and the large mechanism unlocked, permitting entry.

Together we moved forward, leaving behind cramped laneways for the most dazzling sunlight imaginable.

“Wow,” Nila breathed, squinting against the brilliant light.

It was blazing.

Far, far too bright.

Kes and I came prepared.

He chuckled, placing Ray-bans on his nose. “Rather cool, huh?”

Sliding my sunglasses from my front pocket, I placed the aviators over my eyes. Snapping my fingers, I held out my hand for the guard to give me a spare pair.

Instantly, a girlish retro pair was pressed into my palm, which I passed to Nila. “The lights are necessary.”

Nila took the glasses, fumbling to put them on. “I’ve never been somewhere so bright.”

“You’ll see why it’s like this.”

“I’ll get going,” Kes said. “I’ll come find you when I’m done.” Patting his pocket, he moved away. “Got my phone if you need me. Have fun, Nila.” With a wave, he prowled down the centre corridor of the huge open plan warehouse and disappeared.

Nila looked left and right. We stood in the centre of the four-story building where track lighting and halogen spotlights dangled like false suns. Not only had we traded a dreary autumn outside, but we’d also traded the cold for muggy heat.

Sweat already prickled my lower back beneath my leather jacket. I used to hate wearing this thing. I was a businessman, not a thug in a gang, but Cut wanted me to take over not just our Hawk legacy but the Black Diamonds, too.

And what Cut wanted, I was determined to deliver.

“Stop standing and staring, let’s walk.” Placing a hand on her lower back, I guided her forward.

She instantly sucked in a breath at the contact.

I waited for my fingers to burn and my heart to jolt…but I felt nothing.

The extra dose finally did what they should.

Nila drifted forward, her eyes taking in the rows upon rows of tables. They faced each other like little cubicles, some manned with staff, others empty. But all of them had numerous trays, tweezers, magnifying glasses, loupes, and black velvet covering the table-tops.

“Why is it so bright in here?” she asked, keeping pace with me.

“You’re in a diamond warehouse. Light is the one tool to highlight flaws from perfections, clarity from cloud.”

Despite the size of our operation, only thirty full-time staff worked for us in Diamond Alley. They’d been vetted, tested, and knew when they’d started working for us that it wasn’t a simple position. Once they signed on the bottom line, there was no quitting or second-guessing their profession. They were ours for life.

To ensure we had no mutiny or unrest, we increased their salary every year, gave them room for promotion, and even compensated their families.

We’d never had an unhappy staff member. But then again, if they were caught stealing, pilfering, or tampering with the merchandise…well, a human life wasn’t worth as much as a diamond.

Nila edged closer. “They’re all in their underwear.”

I eyed the staff members who didn’t bother glancing up—too engrossed in their task and eager to hit their bonus for the day by clearing a certain amount of stones. Various skin colour, contrasting sizes, different sexes—but all one similarity—they all wore black underwear provided by the company.

I nodded. “A condition of employment.”

“Why?”

“I thought it would be obvious? Fewer hiding places. Not to mention, they don’t need clothing with the amount of heat generated from the lights.”

Sweat moistened my brow as we reached the end of the warehouse and climbed the metal steps to the office above. Our footfalls clanged with every climb, shuddering the framework.

“And you sit up there and play God, I suppose,” Nila muttered as we ascended toward the glass-fronted office with its bird’s eye-view down the length of the building.

“It’s a shared office for managers, but in a way we do. After all, we provide a livelihood to the people below us. We treat them well as long as they behave.”

“A bit like me then.” She darted ahead, opening the door and slinking into the office.

Following her, my eyes drank in the glistening sweat on her upper lip and tendrils of hair from her plait sticking to her nape. “You look warm, Ms. Weaver. You could always strip, you know. You are, after all, technically a Hawk employee.”