Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

The table falls into silence when the waiter leaves. I’d say
uncomfortable silence, but the Russians and I are the only ones
who seem unsettled. Kage looks like a king holding court, and
Sloane looks like she’s having the time of her life.
She leans an elbow on the table and smiles at him. “I like
your rings, Kage. That skull is badass.”
He gazes at her. After a moment, he exhales a short breath
through his nostrils. It’s a laugh, but one that seems to say he
knows she’s trouble.
“Thank you.”
“What’s the other one? The signet thingie.”
He slides it off his finger and holds it out to her. She takes
it, then examines it with quirked lips.
“Memento mori,” she reads. “What does that mean?”
“Remember death.”
Startled, she glances up at him. The Russians on either side
of her sit perfectly still, their expressions blank and their
postures rigid.
I’m sitting still too, but my heart definitely isn’t. It’s about
to break right out of my chest.
Sloane grimaces. “Remember death? That’s morbid.”
“It’s Latin. Literally translated, it’s ‘Remember that you
must die.’ Legend goes that ancient Roman emperors used to
hire slaves to whisper it in their ears during victory parades so
they’d be reminded that earthly pleasures are fleeting. That no
matter how powerful or great a man was, death would
eventually find him.”
He shifts his gaze to Stavros. His lips lift to a small smile.
“Death eventually finds us all.”
“It was supposed to be a motivator to lead a meaningful
life. It also created a major art movement that had its heyday
in the sixteenth century.”
Everyone looks at me.