четырнадцать. front row seat
" coward "

THE MELODY OF SOFT, CLASSICAL piano music sounded out through the grand ball room as she stepped foot in with her red louboutin. Her brown wig was brushed up into perfectly neat updo, a lacy mask on her eyes with a skin tight, black dress - shorts underneath, a gun slipped into the garter around her thigh. Her shiny, smooth legs were exposed to the warm air, as were her muscular arms. Yet she carried on slowly strutting through the bodies of people, looking over everyone. She didn't think that so much class and grace could exist in a town like Vladovin - yet it appeared that the roots of the town still lingered around as she looked over the many faces of guilty criminals that attended. She could separate the criminals from the civilians easily. One because they were jumpy and cautious with everything around them, and two because they weren't hiding the fact that they were under the influence of drugs that well.

Making eye contact with a waitor coming her way, she looked at the golden platter full of champagne glasses, the golden, fizzing magic awaiting for her. So with as much pleasure and delight as she could have as an undercover attender of the party, she gently wrapped her fingers around the bottom of the glass, lifting it up and pressing it against the lips. The sweet taste of the alcoholic beverage caused her insides to cheer in delight, as she cautiously graced the marble flooring with her appearance.

"That's her."

Derek Morgan spoke in a hushed manner to Aaron beside him.

The BAU were scattered around the party, primarily to catch the woman, secondarily to watch over and protect the party from the woman. After they had pulled some strings with the police department and the prince, they had managed to get in, providing safety and security too.

And Cara stood beside Spencer, her arms interlocked with each other in front of her, eyes plastered on the strutting brunette. She watched the way Valentine practically glided across the floor - that was one thing she did well. She naturally fit in everywhere, looked good. And even Spencer noticed that, but he supposed she was a spy. She could tell him she was from the wild depth's of the Amazon's and he'd walk away believing everything that left her lips.

Valentizina graced everyone with her beauty, leaving many heads turned. In many ways, he felt like he was looking back at the day they met. Where she walked in the FBI. The first look. The very look they shared.

He knew from then, Valentizina was something more than just a pretty redhead.

And it only proved out to be right in the best and worst ways after that.

"You alright, Reid?" Cara asked from beside, looking up at the slightly taller man.

But he ignored her question, leaving her to roll her eyes and look back at her.

"If you're not going to co-operate with me, then at least leave me to do the fighting."

"Good luck. You know, I like your earrings," he looked at her, making her furrow her brows. But giving him a small smile, her finger brushed upon her earrings, opening her mouth to speak before Spencer beat her to it, "My grandma wears a lot of fake jewellery too."

Throwing her a small smile, Cara scoffed in shock at Spencer who turned back to the front.

"What have I done? What? Replaced Miss Alianovna? That wasn't my choice."

"Who said I was angry at you?"

"Dr Reid, you don't exactly play that game subtly."

"Then stop standing like that."

"What?"

"You stand out. Your body posture is up-right, you're keeping your eyes on the woman for far too long, lack of movement suggests you're only here for something not enjoyment-"

"Do you always try to outsmart others? We're here to protect guests from our unsub. I am here for something, not enjoyment."

Leaving her without an answer, he furrowed his brows to himself at her retort, making her finally look away from Spencer and back at Valentine. She seemed to be stood beside the snack table, slowly sipping on the glass of bubble in her hand, eyes lingering over the prince who seemed to be looking right back. His hands were wrapped around the waist of another woman, bodies pressed against each other, yet his head hovered over the woman's shoulder, eyes burning into Valentine's brown contact lenses, that stared at him in infatuation. In reality, she didn't really care about the prince. He was mildly attractive, with soft, fluffy hair pushed back and a slight stubble. His jaw was striking, she'd admit, but never sharper than Reid's. Nothing came close.

Stop thinking about him!

His fingers interlocked with the woman's raising her arm before he spun her out from his grip, letting go of her and walking away. She stumbled, her lips lightly parted in a look of rejection. Valentine watched as he swaggered over with a smirk, his steps elegant, eyes wide in interest with the brunette. Yet as he grew closer, his eyes draped up and down her body, returning back into her piercing eyes. The prince found himself bowing slightly before her presence, gently holding he hand that he brought up to his lips.

"And who may you be?" he questioned in a hushed tone.

Spencer Reid found himself to look away for a moment, gulping before looking back. She was getting herself in trouble tonight. And he was severely worried.

"Valerie Nova."

Answering with a standard American accent that she put on, he grinned in glee, straightening himself up and snaking an arm around her shoulders. His fingers gently wrapped around the glass in her hand, taking it from her and placing it on the table, turning to the side to face her.

"How about I get you something better to drink?"

"Are you worthy of that?"

"I'm the prince. I'm worthy of everything."

"Not of me, but I appreciate the gesture."

"Then what makes a man worthy enough for you?"

Looking up, pretending to think, she let out a giggle, her finger running down his chest as she moved her body closer to his.

"Someone strong, brave, a rule breaker. A no restraints play kind of man, you know?" she whispered into his ear.

That wasn't her type. At least not completely. That was Valerie Nova's type. His eyes held a burning look of desire within, the grin falling into a smirk. No restraints play kind of man. Tilting his head, he looked at her with so much passion, it could fill up three more rooms the size of this one. And the look in his eye screamed 'success' to Valentine whose lips hovered over his, eyes glancing up from them back up into his eyes.

"Are you worthy?" she sang out quietly.

"More than that."

"Prove it."

He puckered his lips that brushed over hers, yet she pulled away just in time, brows raised as she waited for something. Anything. She wasn't going to leave the party without anything. But, Valentine knew she was getting into trouble. This was far too easy. A loving look exchanged with a prince and suddenly she's got the whole mission wrapped around her finger again? Far too easy. There was a catch. And she felt that not only in her conscious, yet in the light tug he gave her by the hand as he began to lead her slowly away from the crowd.

Antonio began walking, hand in hand with the brunette who looked around the room one more time.

Until her eyes found his.

Spencer Reid's lips parted, as did her glossy one's.

The FBI.

Spencer.

She didn't know what to think. To feel. Whether to feel jealous because of the redhead by his side, whether to feel relieved that Spencer was okay, whether to feel threatened by the FBI that was scattered around the room, whether to start running. His eyes never left hers, digging deep into hers to find something. Yet as a person walked past in front of him, when his view was cleared again, she was gone, blending into the depths of the party.

"Unsub heading with the prince into another room. Anyone copy?"

Morgan's voice rang through the comm's in the FBI's ears, Cara being the first to speak up.

"Copy that. I'm following."

"Take Morgan with you. Once you two enter, we follow your lead," Hotch replied.

"You know, it was always Morgan and Alianovna who went together," JJ slightly chuckled, earning a smirk beside her from Emily who spoke through the comm's.

"JJ," she slowly dragged on, earning another comment from Hotch.

"Cara, Morgan, you copy?"

"With distaste," Cara sighed through the comm, beginning to walk towards the door that she saw swung open.

"Get rid of that attitude, Martin," Hotch warned.

"Sorry, boss."

Valentine held in the sigh of relief and sadness begging to escape her lips, as she slipped through the door with him. It revealed a long, brightly lit corridor with candles and chandelier's hanging from the ceiling. The flooring was marble, the walls a rich, cream wallpaper with white, royal detail and gold wall panels. The music was muffled from the corridor, growing quieter and quieter as they distanced themselves from the room.

"No restraints play, you said?" he almost growled, making her turn to him, a wicked expression over his face.

Oh fuck.

"Why, know anything, handsome?"

His hand reached for the door knob, gripping it tight, before he turned to look down at the smaller girl.

"Vladovin is a small city. There is no Valerie Nova. It won't treat you kindly if you're living a lie."

She furrowed her brows, listening intently to what he had to say.

"I was warned about your arrival. I admit, if it wasn't for Nadia describing your disguise, you would have fit right in. That's what you do best, right? Russian spy and all that."

Nadia describing your disguise.

She didn't know how Valentine...

Arabella.

Arabella did know.

"That's not me anymore," she lowly spat out.

"And yet here you are. You're lying to yourself."

Twisting the door knob, it revealed...

An office?

She furrowed her brows, tilting her head. It didn't fit in with the rest of the castle-like mansion. It was dark, painted a dark shade of blood red, dark-brown, wooden panelling on the walls. A single candle sat upon the desk, papers scattered all over the room. On the floor, desks, shelves. It wasn't clean, but that didn't really matter. Not to either of them anyways. Pushing her in slightly, he slammed the door.

"Let's talk," he spat out, grinning wildly, "Make a deal..."

"I made a deal with the devil once, look where that got me."

"Oh, sweetheart. Take a look in the mirror. You are the devil. That's why everybody wants you. Nadia including, that's why you're here."

"Which is the part I'm confused about. If she wants me so bad, then why is she sending me for a mission she wants me to fail."

"You don't really think she wants you alive. She wants you dead."

The line was spat out with so much hatred... Her blood ran cold, nostrils flaring slightly as she clenched her teeth, rubbing them against each other. She wanted her dead?

"And she couldn't do it herself?"

"What a coward, right?" he taunted, "Nadia Alianovna. The woman who tortured you for years. Killed a part of you. Turned you into a killing machine, and she can't kill you. Why do you think that is? She's afraid. She could never do things herself, don't you think? Always getting other people to do her dirty work for her. That's why you're here. If she knew how to get shit done, you'd be a free little bird, probably working a normal seven-to-nine job in a washed out coffee shop..."

Spencer.

Her lips parted, as her head snapped to look up at him.

Spencer. Derek. Hotch- they were all here. All in the party. Or worse, outside the door.

"You need to let them out."

"Darling, it doesn't work like that."

"Then I'll do it myself. Like I always have."

Charging at him, he was the first to throw a punch that she caught, bending his arm to the side that made him yell, but as he threw a kick at her stomach, Valentine jumped up, flipping herself over as she wrapped her legs around his neck. Flipping themselves over, she slammed his body onto the ground. But his fists gripped her shirt, rolling back with her, throwing her into one of the doors on the side that flew open, as she landed inside.

"Good luck with your mission, Alianovna."

And before she jumped up, he reached for the handle, slamming the door, locking it shut.

Valentine groaned loudly.

Fuck.

Her eyes finally opened, but she was met with nothing but darkness. And she was going to get up, until the sound of shuffling feet made her freeze. The clicking of heels. The thick scent of perfume that reminded her of nothing but blood and torture. And the flickering of the light above her, made her hazy vision immediately clear up, as she let out a cough from the dust she fell into.

"Come on, little soldier, time to put on a show."

She came too sooner than she expected. A lifetime of poison work has built up tolerances. She knew she was trapped. No way out. No way but to shed blood. And there was only one choice. Either her own, or Nadia's.

Valentine wanted a ticket to the show. But it looked like Valentizina got herself the best seat in the house.

Thump!

A wooden bat flew right into the side of Valentizina's head, her body strained to get up, falling limp.