Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kaz Brekker was not one for waiting. 

He brought a cigarette up to his lips and took a long, final drag.  It was nearly burnt down to the filter at this point, just as the last two he’d smoked had done, and he flicked what remained into the empty street.  Out of sheer boredom, he watched as the smoldering orange tip slowly died and faded away to black, and then he set to scanning the street once more. 

It was dark here, but that was fine. He liked the dark.  Preferred it, actually. Where it was dark, people tended to scurry away, search for a different route home, retreat to a more well-lit area to conduct whatever business normal Ketterdam citizens busied themselves with.  As a result, that meant the street here was also quiet, as this particular corner of the Barrel had been mostly unoccupied for the better part of a year.  Most of the dilapidated buildings lining this street and the few that surrounded it were empty, though Kaz was sure a handful of them housed criminals and vagrants just like him.

Well, not just like him, he supposed.  He, at least, had a somewhat decent apartment in a semi-decent stretch of the city.  Which begged the question: what the hell was he doing standing on a dark, empty sidewalk at almost four a.m. near the ports instead of in his own bed?

The longer Kaz stood here, the longer he himself wondered at the answer to that question. 

“What business?”

The sudden presence of a low, stern voice should have startled Kaz, especially considering that he’d just finished yet another sweep of the area and had confirmed that he was, indeed, alone. Or, so he’d thought. 

He turned slowly, giving himself time to smooth away any evidence of his surprise, but found that the street to his left was still empty.  After a moment’s inspection, he realized that the right side of the street was bare as well, other than a crumpled paper coffee cup skittering across the street in the light breeze.  Kaz’s brow furrowed.

A sharp, high pitched whistle cut through the air directly behind him, and Kaz’s shoulders went rigid at the sound.  When Kaz had stationed himself on this street to wait for his ‘meeting’ – if he could call it that – he had chosen to do so at this exact spot for three reasons:  one, it was almost at the exact middle of the street, giving him a clear vantage point in either direction; two, it was one of the few places where he wouldn’t have a building at his back because buildings could potentially house unexpected bodies and unexpected dangers; and three, he was positioned in front of an alley, blocked off by a heavy metal fence that he judged to be about ten feet tall and decorated with spikes along the top.  The fence, he’d assumed, would prevent anyone from sneaking up on him from behind, as the spikes were meant to give anyone climbing over pause, and even those who dared to attempt it would give away their position when the metal jangled and creaked under their weight. 

Or, at least, they should have. However, when Kaz turned around in a slow spin, he spotted the crouched form balanced perfectly between the spikes atop the fence. 

“You must be The Wraith.” It wasn’t a question, which was good because the form above Kaz didn’t provide an answer.  Instead, Kaz could feel their eyes boring into him, though he couldn’t see them.  The lower half of their face was hidden away by a dark mask, and a wide hood was pulled over their head, shadowing the remainder of their face. It was a strange sensation, to be watched so openly without being able to see the face of your watcher, but Kaz clenched his fist around the head of his cane and rolled his shoulders back. 

If they wanted to see him, then let them look. 

A few long moments passed between them, distant car engines and dogs barking the only sounds that disturbed the silence.  Finally, the same knife quick, sharp tone asked, “What business?”

The voice was kept purposefully low, perhaps in an attempt to disguise the owner’s real one, and the effort sounded almost straining.  However, Kaz didn’t have the time to concern himself with the oddities of their speech pattern at the moment. “I hear you collect secrets.”

In fact, the word around Ketterdam was if you had any secrets worth hiding, it was wise to burn all evidence before The Wraith found you.  Though, based on some of the stories he’d overheard, he wasn’t sure if even that would be enough to stop them from creeping into every inch of someone’s life and escaping through a window with every shameful secret they’d ever had.  They’d become a bit of a legend in the city seemingly overnight.  Some thought The Wraith was a man, others a woman, a few even citing a child as the culprit of secret thievery.  However, almost all of the stories involved coming to this street in the middle of the night and waiting.  If you’re worthy, The Wraith will come to you, Kaz had overheard one of the Crow Club patrons drawl out right before he’d slumped forward onto the table and been subsequently removed from the premises.

Truthfully, Kaz hadn’t believed a word of the legends – not even as he had stood here, waiting for The Wraith to find him.  However, now that they loomed above him like a strange, humanoid gargoyle, Kaz found it strange that he’d doubted the stories for even a second.

“For a price,” The Wraith answered.  Most likely a woman’s voice, Kaz thought, though without seeing them face to face it was difficult to decipher anything for certain. 

“What is your price?”

“Depends on the job.”

Kaz glanced away from them, checking both directions to ensure that the road was still clear.  Though, if he were being honest with himself, his scan had less to do with danger in the area and more to do with the heavy weight of The Wraith’s gaze on him.  He allowed himself the short break before dragging his eyes back up the fence and settling his own gaze on the shadowy, dark void where The Wraith’s face was hidden. 

“How familiar are you with the Dregs?”

“I know the name,” The Wraith answered, tone wary, as it should be.

“Then you must know their leader.”

“Haskell,” The Wraith supplied, voice sounding distant.  Their head tipped to the side in consideration, which was a bit of a haunting sight without the ability to see their face. “Though, I’ve heard Haskell isn’t the one to fear when it comes to the Dregs.”

Kaz would never admit it, never show it, but his pride swelled at those words. “So, you’ve heard of me?”

Silence answered him, and Kaz was considering how he could continue this conversation and still save face when The Wraith suddenly stood.  Somehow, they made it look effortless to balance, stark still, atop the ten foot fence, feet perfectly positioned between two of the wicked spikes.  Before Kaz could even consider asking any questions, The Wraith stepped forward off the fence, hitting the sidewalk in a low, silent crouch a fraction of a second later.

“I know you, Brekker,” The Wraith spoke coolly as they rose to their full height again, which was nearly a head and a half shorter than him.  Even with only a foot or two between them now, The Wraith’s face stayed shaded by their hood.  However, as they took a step closer, Kaz swore he saw a flash of dark bronze skin in the scant streetlight. “And, I know that your name is usually followed by fun little suffixes, like ‘bastard’ or ‘pain-in-the-ass’ or ‘crook’ or-”

“I’m aware,” Kaz spoke abruptly, cutting off their words. He knew exactly how the people of this city saw him, knew the whispers they spoke behind his back, knew the tales they wove with his name on their lips.  He never once corrected them because, after all, this reputation was what he’d wanted, even if he’d only committed about half the crimes this city accused him of.  “Ketterdam has a way of painting a pretty picture with its lies.”

The Wraith’s head tilted again, a gesture that could almost be considered cute if only he could see their face.  “Are they? Lies?”

Kaz considered his next words carefully.  “There’s a bit of truth in every story, isn’t there?”

He’d asked a question, but The Wraith seemed satisfied with that as an answer to their own and chose to not answer.  Instead, they asked, “What do you want, Brekker?”

Those words were a loaded question, but Kaz assumed they meant from them specifically, so he answered, “I need someone to scrape up some secrets on my boss.”

“Haskell,” The Wraith clarified, which Kaz answered with a nod.  “Why?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does when you’re asking me to break and enter a gang leader’s house for answers to a question I haven’t even heard yet.”

Kaz rolled his wrist as he thought, his heavy cane shifting in a slow circle in time with his movements.  He couldn’t spill the whole truth to them.  Even if he did, he doubted The Wraith would understand, or that anyone would, really.  The truth was that Kaz had known Haskell for nearly a decade now, and had been his right hand man for half of those years.  He’d been Haskell’s confidant, his idea man, his go-to for every issue, every concern, every new investment; emphasis on the ‘had been’.

A few weeks ago, Haskell had changed.  He’d conducted a meeting with the Razorgulls leader and his VP regarding a territory dispute without ever requesting Kaz’s presence.  A few days after that, he’d signed the agreement on a new shipping investment without having Kaz glance over the paperwork like he usually would.  A few days after that, when he’d found Kaz camped out by his office, he’d been quick to tell Kaz to get the hell out of his sight and not return until he’d called for him.

The truth, as far as Kaz could see it, was that Haskell knew his end was coming, and along with his end came Kaz’s beginning.  And Haskell, it would seem, was pushing back, shutting Kaz out from Dregs decision making, lining up pins and calling the shots without an ounce of regard for the long term effects.  Kaz knew that he had a limited window of time to act before Haskell did something stupid and erased all of the successes that Kaz had brought onto the Dregs. The only problem was that he couldn’t do anything to stop Haskell if he didn’t know what Haskell was up to, and he couldn’t stick his own nose – or the noses of his inner circle – around without one of Haskell’s lackeys notifying the old man.

So, Kaz boiled the truth down into the simplest terms.  “Haskell has been up to something recently, something he won’t tell me about. As his right hand, I need to be sure he’s not digging himself a hole he can’t get out of.”

“Isn’t that his business?”

Kaz’s stare was dangerous when it lifted to the form in front of him. “Isn’t it your business to do a job without asking a dozen questions?  If you can’t do it, just say so and I’ll find someone else.”

The Wraith tipped their chin, defiant, exposing a thin strip of skin across elegant cheekbones and the narrow bridge of a nose. 

Definitely a girl, Kaz thought, examining the limited features he’d been given access to as closely as possible, committing them to memory in case he needed to recognize her again. 

“You have your own legends and stories, Brekker,” she snapped, spitting his name like a curse.  “And I have mine.  You won’t find anyone else to do this job, and you know it.”

Kaz ran his tongue over his teeth, mentally cursing himself.  She was right. He did know it, and yet he’d hoped his bluff would be enough to change her tone.  Instead, it had proved to only make her more insolent.

“Can you do it or not?” he demanded.

He could feel her eyes on him, crawling over his skin as she studied him like a puzzle she intended to solve before the night was up.  “Five thousand.”

“What?”

“Five thousand,” she repeated.  “That’s the price.”

Kaz’s eyes narrowed.  “Three.”

“I don’t negotiate.  You know it as well as I do, Brekker; there isn’t anyone else in this city capable of doing a job this dangerous. You need me, and I can help you…for $5,000.”

“That’s a steep price,” Kaz spoke lowly.  So steep, in fact, that it would make quite the dent in his personal savings.

“For a dangerous job,” she replied coolly, mimicking his strict tone. “I have other things to tend to tonight, so make your decision quickly.  Can you afford me or not?”

The words were a clear challenge, and the way Kaz saw it, he had two options.  One, he could tell her to get lost and take his chances with another spy that would likely be captured and could potentially give him up to Haskell, which would ultimately result in Kaz losing everything he’d worked for and/or his life.  Or, two, he could give in just this once and let her win. 

Kaz had never been a betting man, but he knew shitty odds when he saw them, and he’d bet every bit of his life savings that he’d never find another soul in this city capable or willing to do what he was asking. 

With his jaw ground roughly together, Kaz stretched out a hand. “Fine. $5,000.”

The Wraith stared at the outstretched offering, and though Kaz couldn’t see her face, he felt positive that she was scowling.  She ignored the appendage and lifted her gaze back to him.  “You have my word. That’s enough for now.”

“It’s customary in Ketterdam to seal a deal by shaking hands,” Kaz said, though he dropped his hand anyway. 

The Wraith snorted at his words.  “I don’t care for most of the Ketterdam customs.  I’ll meet you back here in 48 hours to discuss what I find.”

She didn’t wait for Kaz to answer before turning and scaling the ten foot metal fence one more.  Her movements were so quick and silent that Kaz struggled to keep up with her until she reached the top, once more standing with her feet perfectly positioned between the pointed spikes.

She paused, only for a moment, and then glanced down at Kaz once more. 

“Bring my money when you come,” she ordered.  Then, she stepped off the top of the fence once more, landing without a sound on the other side.  It took less than two seconds for her to disappear completely into the shadows, leaving Kaz feeling more confused than he had been when this whole night had started. 

Chapter Text

This was certainly not the first time Jesper had stared down at a handsome stranger tangled in the sheets of his own bed, but it was definitely the weirdest for multiple reasons.  First, there was the matter of the pale, bare shoulders dotted in a spray of freckles peeking out from beneath the thin navy sheet.  It was the only stretch of visible skin before the man’s arms disappeared beneath the pillow, over which tangled ruddy curls were spread.  The sight of the man by himself wasn’t concerning, but it was the fact that the man’s pretty features were a far cry from any of the bodies that had previously found themselves curled in those same sheets.  The second, more concerning issue, was the matter of how they’d met the night before.

Jesper checked his phone again, eyeing the time.  It was well into the afternoon, bordering on evening at this point, and the boy in his bed was still sound asleep, as he had been for the past twelve hours.  Jesper had tried to be a considerate host, truly, but it was growing late and he had questions he was desperate to find answers to. 

Coming to the decision that his guest had certainly slept enough at this point, he reached out to wake him.  Jesper’s hand, however, hovered over the boy’s shoulder, his fingers hesitant to touch the bare skin, though his hesitance only lasted a moment before he realized he was being stupid.  He gave the man’s shoulder a gentle shove, and when he didn’t budge, Jesper shook him more firmly. 

“Hey,” Jesper said, quiet at first.  When he tried again, he raised his voice a few levels. “Hey!”

The man began to stir, so Jesper quickly removed his hand and took a considerate step away from the bed.  The stranger’s back was to Jesper, his face towards the wall, and as he slowly began to bring himself up onto his elbow, the sheet fell lower, revealing more of the pale, freckled skin.  Though, as the cover fell away, Jesper saw that the boy’s right shoulder and hip were now bruised a dark purple.  The sight made Jesper’s lips twitch towards a scowl, but he shoved his distaste away and cleared his throat.

“Feeling better?” Jesper ventured.  Still in the process of coming out of his sleep, the man whipped around wildly at the sound of an unfamiliar voice.  The second his eyes landed on Jesper, he reared back so violently that he rammed into the wall behind him, his head smacking into the plaster hard enough to earn a sympathetic wince from Jesper. 

“Hey, hey, you’re fine,” Jesper reassured, lowering his voice in an attempt to ease the wide-eyed panic on the boy’s face. He held his hands up to show that he meant no harm and even took another couple of steps away from the bed to give the boy more space. 

Wide, crystal blue eyes took in every inch of his surroundings, from the miscellaneous posters haphazardly taped to the walls to the cluttered shelves in the corner filled with the prizes Jesper had collected during his time as a gambler, to the guitar nestled neatly in the corner that had never been touched. 

The boy’s eyes finally returned to Jesper’s, and even though his breathing seemed to have levelled out from his heavy, frightened huffs, his shoulders were still rigid with his fear.

“W-where…” The boy winced again, bringing a hand up to his throat.  Jesper averted his eyes, knowing that the same dark purple that littered his shoulder and side also dotted the skin around his narrow throat.  The boy, it seemed, realized that too as he pressed against the sensitive skin and pulled his own hand back with a sharp inhale.

“Here,” Jesper offered, grabbing the cup of water he’d left on the bedside table earlier this morning, along with toast that had long gone cold and hard.

The boy was hesitant to take it from Jesper’s hand, and even once he did, he brought the rim of the glass to his nose and gave the contents a few experimental sniffs before taking a careful sip.  Satisfied that the cup actually did hold water, the boy tipped it back, emptying the contents in long, full gulps.  When he was finished, he held the glass in his hand, spinning it between his fingers as if he could find answers somewhere on the transparent surface.

After clearing his throat, he tried again.  “Where am I?"

Jesper bit the inside of his cheek.  He’d been afraid of this. “Do you remember anything from last night?”

Slowly, the boy shook his head, one hand lifting to brush reddish curls out of his face.  “I don’t…remember anything.”

I wish I could say the same, Jesper thought solemnly.

The Previous Night

The rain was cold but light as Jesper made his way home from his shift at the Crow Club, keeping his brain occupied by kicking a small pebble with him as he went.  It had been a slow night, which was always bad for Jesper because slow nights meant he had more time to stare at the tables, to wonder, to debate whether or not he should play just one game after his shift ended. 

He’d managed, though, and he was grateful that the walk back to his apartment was fairly short and painless, especially considering that he’d left his bike at home after seeing how nice the weather had been when he’d left for work.  He hadn’t counted on the weather turning, and it seemed that neither did a lot of the Barrel residents he passed who were hurrying past his leisurely form in an effort to get somewhere dry.

He gave the pebble he’d been leading a hard kick, and it skittered into the cross walk in front of him.  Jesper started after it, so distracted that he barely noted the large, black SUV speeding down the side street he was headed for until it almost clipped him.  He jumped back as the vehicle slammed to a stop, and he yelled some curse word he didn’t think twice about – this was the Barrel, after all, none of the residents could drive around here and a shout here or a kick to the tire there were commonplace. 

A door on the other side of the vehicle opened, and Jesper reached for his gun in preparation for a scuffle.  He didn’t have time to act, though, before he heard a subdued grunt, the sound of the door slamming shut again, and then the vehicle’s engine roared as it sped off.

“Fucking idiot,” Jesper muttered under his breath as his eyes trailed after the car. The windows were tinted too dark for him to get a good look at the occupants, but if he had to guess by the expensive model of the car, he’d say it was someone who wasn’t used to The Barrel’s ways. 

Jesper turned to continue on his way and nearly stumbled over the thin form lying on the ground in the middle of the street, precisely where the car had just been idling.

“Oh, shit,” he cursed to himself, taking a few exasperated steps forward.  He nudged the body with his foot.  “Hey.”

A tiny, weak groan was the only semblance of a response that he received.  Jesper poked the body again. “You have to get out of the street. Come on, up.”

Again, the body didn’t seem capable of complying.  Jesper rounded the form blocking the crosswalk to get a look at the face, and as soon as he did, he felt his gut twist.  He’d been right, whoever that car belonged to, they didn’t belong here, and neither did the boy he was pretty sure they’d tossed out.  His features were delicate, but not soft, and Jesper found himself inexplicably comparing the boy to a lost prince that had found himself very, very far away from his fairytale home.  His jawline was sharp, his narrow nose a point, his brows dark and full above closed eyes.  A crop of messy curls fell in his face, and Jesper pushed them out of his way so that he could tap the boy’s pale cheek gently. When that didn’t work, he gave the boy a harder smack.

Slowly, the boy’s eyelids lifted, revealing two orbs of blue that shimmered under the shitty Barrel streetlamps.  Jesper might have taken the time to wonder at them if they’d been able to focus on him.  Instead, the eyes’ pupils were blown, and they couldn’t seem to stick to anything for very long before they started to roll closed again.  As they did, Jesper glanced down and caught sight of small, round, darkening bruises at the boy’s throat, and his gut twisted again. 

Jesper tipped his head back and groaned his complaint up at the sky, as if the stars might be able to explain why this had to happen to him, especially when he’d only been a block away from his apartment building.  For a fleeting moment, Jesper wondered if he should just leave the boy here for someone else to find and deal with, but this was The Barrel and Jesper knew what fate that would likely afford a boy like this.  Even though this city might have beaten most everything else out of him, his father had unfortunately instilled a conscience on him that would not allow him to leave a lost prince lying in the middle of a Ketterdam street. 

With a resigned sigh, Jesper initiated step one: getting the boy out of the street before another car came flying down the short and narrow side road and made an even bigger mess than the one Jesper currently had on his hands. Thankfully, the late hour left the street clear, meaning there were no witnesses to see Jesper struggle to get a hold under the boy’s shoulders and drag him onto the sidewalk.  It took more effort than Jesper had expected to lean the boy against the side of the first building he reached, and by the time he was finished, he was sweating and breathing heavy. 

At least his boredom had been satiated. And, now, they were both protected from the slowly intensifying rain beneath the building’s awning.

After Jesper had caught his breath, he crouched down in front of the boy.

“Hey,” he said again, tapping the boy’s cheek until his eyes slowly slid open again, though it looked like it was taking every bit of strength he had to do so. “That’s it. Talk to me, man, what’re you on?”

The boy’s eyes slid left and right, struggling to hold on to anything long enough to focus.  “’Dunno…”

“You don’t know?” Jesper asked, worry coating his tone.  Weakly, the boy shook his head.  “You took something and didn’t know what it was?”

“Not…me...” The boy’s eyes started to roll shut again. 

“No, no, no,” Jesper insisted, grabbing the boy’s jaw in his hand and giving his face a gentle shake until his eyes popped open once more. “Stay with me, alright? Do you need a hospital?”

“No,” the boy snapped, his voice suddenly insistent.  For the first time, he managed to get his eyes to linger on Jesper for longer than a second, and there was a desperation in the sea of blue that Jesper reluctantly recognized.  As if mesmerized, Jesper held his gaze, feeling as if a million messages were passing between them despite the fact that neither of them had yet to utter a single word. 

A frail, weak hand found the hem of Jesper’s coat and fisted in the fabric.  The boy was practically shaking as he uttered, “Please.”

Jesper couldn’t be sure what exactly the plea was for, and he didn’t have enough time to ask before whatever strength the boy had found in the last few seconds left him, and his chin slumped forward into Jesper’s hand

“Fuck,” Jesper cursed, using his free hand to pat around at his pockets until he felt his phone.  He tugged it free, found the contact he was looking for in his recent calls, and pressed the phone against his ear. 

It rang twice before an annoyed voice answered, “I was almost asleep.”

“Come downstairs,” Jesper snapped quickly, too worried about the unconscious man using his palm as a pillow to care about Nina Zenik’s sleep schedule.  “I need your help.  One block south, on the corner.”

Before Nina could answer, Jesper hung up and slipped the phone back into his coat pocket.  While he waited, he stared at the body in front of him, knowing fully well that the decision he was about to make was a bad one. However, he also knew with his entire being that there was no way he could walk away from this now, as stupid as that might seem. There was something penetrating about the desperate stare the boy had locked on Jesper, something that had dug its claws into his chest and was refusing to let go. 

“Jes?” a familiar voice called, accompanied by the sound of hurried footsteps.  Jesper turned and found Nina hurrying towards him in a silky red robe, her long auburn hair piled high on her head and a gun clutched firmly in her hand. 

Jesper rolled his eyes. “Nina, put that away before a fucking cop drives by, Jesus Christ.”

Her footsteps slowed as she took in the casual tone in Jesper’s voice, and she quickly lowered her weapon.  “Well, sorry for trying to hurry. I thought you were getting jumped or something.”

“So you came down in your robe?”

“Like I said – hurrying.” She was close enough now to see the boy’s slumped form more clearly, as well as Jesper’s hand that still cupped his chin. “Who is this?  He okay?”

“Don’t think so,” Jesper answered honestly.  “Some big, shiny SUV pulled up as I was walking by and tossed him out.  Probably some rich kids from the university who came down looking to have fun and got in way over their heads.  My guess is he passed out, they got scared, and tried to dump him off with hopes that someone would take pity on him and find him some help.”

“In The Barrel?” Nina asked, incredulous.

“Hence why I said they probably aren’t from around here.”

“Uh huh,” Nina nodded slowly.  “And you needed my help with…”

“Getting him upstairs.”

Nina raised a brow.  “Upstairs?  The kid looks more like he needs to see an inside of an ER.”

“No,” Jesper instantly snapped, mimicking the same tone that the boy had used himself only minutes before.  “Look, he just needs a place to sleep off whatever shit he took.  A hospital is going to cost a fucking fortune, and all they’ll do is pump him with fluids and send him home.”

“And I’m assuming that you are going to offer him better care than licensed doctors?”

Jesper shrugged. “More affordable, at least.”

“Yeah, no,” Nina said. “I’m going back upstairs and calling 911.”

“Nina, wait,” Jesper called, but she’d already turned away. With a quiet curse, Jesper finally released his grip on the boy’s chin and hurried after Nina.  “Please, Nina, you don’t understand.”

“I understand plenty, Jesper, but we can’t just-”

Jesper grabbed her wrist and tugged.  He knew well enough that if Nina didn’t want to listen, she could have easily jerked free of his hold and had him sprawled on the sidewalk with one or two well placed kicks.  Instead, she allowed herself to be guided back, though she met Jesper’s stare with an exasperated one of her own. 

“If we take him to the hospital, this shit could end up on the wrong person’s radar and wind up ruining this guy’s life,” Jesper spoke, his voice low in his sincerity.  “Just…just help me get him upstairs, and I promise I’ll keep an eye on him, alright? If it looks like he’s taking a turn for the worst, I’ll call for help.”

Nina’s eyes scanned over every inch of Jesper’s face, searching for an ounce of doubt, and when she found none, she sighed reluctantly.

“Here. Carry this.”

Jesper glanced at the gun she thrust in his direction.  His brows came together. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to need both hands to help you carry this man up three flights of stairs, and it’s not like I have pockets on this robe to store it in.”

“Right, right,” Jesper nodded, taking the weapon from her.  He confirmed the safety was on before tucking it into his waistband.  “Thank you, Nina.”  

“If he dies in our building, he better haunt your apartment only.  I will not be plagued by a poltergeist because you have a soft spot for pretty boys.” She shoved past Jesper and headed back towards the slumped form on the sidewalk.  As she knelt before the boy, careful fingers checking his pulse, Jesper felt a wave of relief he couldn’t explain.

Now, that same pretty boy sat on Jesper’s bed, looking just as dazed and confused as he had last night.  He was, however, still waiting patiently for Jesper to explain, though it seemed his patience was slowly turning into frustration as his brows drew together.

“You’re in The Barrel,” Jesper offered.  “I found you outside last night, in the street, and brought you upstairs to get some rest.  Your clothes are in the dryer, and I plugged your phone in to charge overnight.” Jesper hesitated before asking, “Do… do you have any idea of how you got to The Barrel last night?”

“No.” The bed creaked as the boy shifted uncomfortably, one of his fists wrapped tightly around the pile of sheets in his lap as if it were a lifeline. His eyes were distant, thinking. “Where in The Barrel am I, exactly?”

Jesper worked his jaw for a moment, knowing the response that the truth would likely earn him.  Still, he gave it anyway. “Dregs territory.”

The boy’s eyes shot up to Jesper’s with sudden clarity. “You’re one of them?”

Jesper’s eyes narrowed. “One of what?”

“A Dreg,” the boy clarified, though his serious tone made it impossible to tell his feelings on the matter.

“Would that bother you if I was?”

“No.”  The answer was instant, calm, quiet, and not at all what Jesper had expected from the thin, delicate looking man who still had his long legs tangled in the thin sheets.  “I heard that Dregs are dangerous, though.”

“Oh, we are,” Jesper assured. 

“You don’t seem that dangerous,” the boy commented lightly, almost absently. 

Jesper folded his arms across his chest, watching as the boy’s eyes followed the movements warily.  A small grin crept onto Jesper’s lips under that cautious scrutiny.  “Looks can be deceiving.”

“I didn’t mean your looks.”

For a long moment, the two of them simply stared at one another across the length of the narrow bedroom.  Eventually, Jesper found the intensity of the blue stare locked on him too much, so he crossed the room to his closet in search of a distraction.  Still, he managed to reply, “I can be dangerous and have enough of a heart to not want to leave a little prince out in the rain like that.”  

Silence answered Jesper as he plucked a change of clothes from the closet.

“Little prince?”

Shit, Jesper thought to himself, his movements freezing.  He hadn’t exactly meant to say that part out loud, and as he stepped back to shut the closet door, he backtracked.

“You don’t exactly look like you belong here,” Jesper tried to explain.

“I don’t,” the boy answered coolly.  “Unfortunately, I don’t have much of a say in the matter.”

“Why is that?”

“What’s your name?” the boy asked.

The change in subject was so sudden and jarring that it nearly gave Jesper whiplash.  However, that look was back in the boy’s eyes, the look that said there were things he couldn’t talk about, things too horrible to give voice to, and so Jesper backed down without complaint.

“Jesper,” he answered easily, pretending that there had never been a change of subject at all.  “Yours, little prince?”

Jesper noted the way pink painted across the boy’s cheekbones at the nickname and tucked that knowledge away for later.  “Wylan.”

“For future reference, Wylan, The Barrel isn’t a fun place to party.  I’d stick to your normal stomping grounds in the future, and maybe stay away from whatever you took last night.”

Like a switch, Wylan’s mood flipped.

“I didn’t come here to party, and I didn’t do any drugs. Not willingly, at least.”

Jesper raised a brow. “I thought you didn’t remember anything from last night?”

Realizing his slip up, Wylan looked down at his hands, one of which still clutched the water glass so tightly that Jesper worried it might shatter in his grip.  His voice was quiet once more when he asked, “Is it okay if I don’t want to talk about last night anymore?”

“Sure,” Jesper answered reluctantly.  The truth was that he wanted to pull answer after answer out of this enigma of a man sitting in front of him. However, if he wasn’t willing to talk, Jesper wasn’t going to force anything out of him.  “Why don’t-”

His words were cut off by the familiar sound of his front door banging open against the wall.  Wylan jumped at the sound, eyes wide again.  “Is someone else here?”

“Unfortunately,” Jesper muttered, and a breath later the bedroom door swung open. Jesper turned his head to watch as the dark haired man crossed the threshold, his cane a dull thump against the worn carpet. “Could have knocked.”

“Could have,” Kaz answered, shrugging, and then his eyes landed on Wylan.  For a long moment, he simply stared at Wylan with an unreadable expression, the silence stretching long enough that Wylan began to fidget under the inspection and send Jesper uncertain glances. Finally, Kaz turned his face back to Jesper. “I thought you didn’t let your conquests stay the night.”

“He is not a conquest,” Jesper defended instantly.  Though, after a moment, he added, “What the hell do you know about my conquests?”

Kaz rolled his eyes. “I live next door. I know too much.”

“Wish I didn’t have to think about that now every time I bring someone home, thanks.”  Jesper cleared his throat then gestured to the ruddy haired boy across the room.  “This is Wylan.  Wylan needed a place to sleep off what can only be described as a really bad night. Wylan is not a conquest, and while we’re on the subject I think we need to go over some more appropriate and respectable terms for romantic partners.”

“When it comes to you, I fear romance usually has very little to do with it,” Kaz spoke with a sigh, ignoring the irritated look on Jesper’s face.  He nodded at Wylan.  “I’d like more details on why you thought it was appropriate to bring an outsider into a major Dregs hideout without asking me.”

Jesper could feel the weight of not only Kaz’s disapproving gaze on him, but also that of Wylan’s confused stare.  He shifted his weight foot to foot nervously as he felt their stares all the way down to his bones.  “Because he won’t be here much longer.  In fact, as soon as I can get an address out of him, we will be on our way.”

Both Kaz and Jesper turned expectants looks Wylan’s way, and the boy blinked at them.  “What?”

“Where do you live?” When Wylan still looked confused, Jesper explained, “So I can take you home.”

“Oh…”  Wylan fiddled with the cup in his lap carefully.  “I don’t…there’s nowhere for me to go.”

Jesper almost snorted. He considered the boy’s delicate features, the expensive clothes that had hung on his body in a perfect fit, the newest model phone he’d pulled from the boy’s pocket last night. 

“Bullshit,” Jesper said casually.  “We promise not to tell mommy and daddy how you ended up in a gang hideout, alright?  So, just tell us where to take you and we’ll drop you off.”

“We?” Kaz challenged. 

Jesper rolled his eyes.  “I’ll drop you off.”

Wylan, however, was undeterred.

“I don’t have a home to go back to,” Wylan said, voice quiet as he stared at his hands again in contemplative silence.  He seemed to come to some sort of conclusion a moment later, and he sat suddenly upright.  “Can I stay here?”

Jesper’s brows shot up. “Can you what?”

“It doesn’t have to be here, necessarily,” Wylan explained.  He leaned forward to set his cup on the bedside table, revealing a long stretch of lean muscles across his side as he did so.  “Just like…in the Dregs?”

Wylan’s last few words were practically a whisper, muttered under his breath as if part of him wished the two men standing in front of him wouldn’t hear them. Unfortunately, both of them did, and when Kaz and Jesper turned to look at one another in surprise, they both began to laugh. 

Wylan pouted, which only added more fuel to their fire.  “I’m being serious.”

“We know,” Jesper said, wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye as his shoulders continued to shake. “That’s the funny part.”

“Don’t gangs always need more bodies to boost their numbers or something?”

“Not the Dregs,” Kaz answered, all evidence of his laughter gone as quickly as it had found him.  “We only recruit members who have something to add to our ranks, something of value.”

“I have value,” Wylan insisted.  He glanced around the room as if one of the many trinkets or posters of half-naked underwear models might hold the key for what to say next.  He must have found something, because his eyes were wide and nearly sparkling as he turned back to them. “I can make explosives.”

Jesper started laughing again. 

“What do you mean you can make explosives?” Kaz asked, sending Jesper a warning glance that had him immediately working on pulling himself together.

“I studied chemistry for a while.  If I have the right materials, I can make big explosions, small ones, ones that are all boom with no fire, which might be good for distractions, maybe…” Wylan seemed to realize he was rambling, so he paused and straightened his shoulders.  “I’m good at it, I promise.”

Jesper, having collected himself, shared a look with Kaz.  He’d known Kaz for at least five years now and had lived next door to him for two of those. That meant he could read the answer on Kaz’s face before he ever even spoke.

“No,” Kaz muttered simply.

“But-”

“No,” Kaz snapped. “We’re not running a charity case. You don’t have a home? Go find a shelter, but this is not the place for you.”

With that, Kaz turned back to the door.  He’d only made it two steps towards the exit before Wylan was scrambling out of the bed, long limbs shoving and kicking the sheets out of his way frantically.

“Wait, please! I’m willing to learn. I’ll do anything, I’ll be anything, just don’t send me away,” he called out, but Kaz kept walking.  Wylan turned to his only other option, to Jesper.  “Jesper, please!”

There it was again, that pit of desperation behind Wylan’s eyes that was so deep he’d probably never make it out, even if Jesper himself leaned in and reached out for him with both hands.  And that word…please… Around here, it was a word reserved for last resorts.  It was a word you only heard when someone was begging for their life, when someone was moments away from their own demise and their only resort was to plea with their opponent, or their god, or whoever they thought might listen.

Jesper decided, however reluctantly, that he had to at least try to lean in and pull Wylan out of that pit.

“What about a trial run?” Jesper called.  His words were intended for Kaz, but his eyes hadn’t left Wylan’s.

Behind Jesper, he heard Kaz sigh.  It was a sound that was irritated but resigned, like he knew Jesper would slip and give in and had just been waiting for it to happen.

“One night,” Kaz relented, and Jesper watched as Wylan’s shoulders visibly relaxed.  “Take him with you when you run collections tomorrow night.  If he can handle it, I will consider bringing him up as a candidate to the boss.  If not, he’s on the street before you come back here. Understood?”

“Sure thing, boss,” Jesper agreed.  Wylan offered a tiny nod, though his expression was surprised, as if he hadn’t expected any of his pleading to work. 

His shock lasted until Kaz’s retreating footsteps hit the hall and the door slammed shut behind him.  Then, Wylan turned to Jesper.

“Thank you, I-”

Jesper held up a hand to stop him.  “Don’t.  I still think this is a bad fucking idea, but maybe seeing what the Barrel life is like will be the push you need to run back home.”

Wylan kept his mouth shut, but his eyes turned downward and Jesper couldn’t help but feel a tiny pang of guilt that he shoved off before it could bury itself deep. 

“Hope you’re ready for a taste of the Dregs,” Jesper muttered lightly.

“I am,” Wylan answered instantly, though Jesper wasn’t stupid enough to miss the flash of fear that crossed his face. 

Jesper rolled his eyes and turned to head for the kitchen. “This is going to be fun.”

Chapter Text

For someone who was so well known for being the cleverest, deadliest man in all of Ketterdam, Brekker had terrible home security measures. In fact, Inej found herself a bit disappointed as she slipped through the unlocked third story window of the worn brick building that Brekker seemed to call home.  As widely known – and, by default, widely disliked – as Brekker was in this city, she’d expected there to be alarms to disarm, locks to pick, codes to guess as adrenaline pumped in her veins. 

However, what awaited her inside Brekker’s apartment was nothing more than a dark, eerie silence.  She wasn’t sure if it was mere laziness to blame or if his arrogance had convinced him that he was beyond danger’s reach.  Either way, as Inej began to slowly make her way throughout the small space with her flashlight in hand, she came to the conclusion that Brekker’s apartment appeared to be a lot like him – quiet, cold, and devoid of any visible personality.

The walls of each room were bare, leaving the dull, faded cream paint job on full display.  His closet was surprisingly neat and organized for a man of his age and occupation, and Inej could tell that most of the items on the hangers were expensive just from running her fingertips across the smooth, dark sleeves.  All of the items were various shades of black or gray except for a singular white button-up that still had the tag attached.  Inej directed the flashlight at it and confirmed her suspicions: expensive.

The contents of his nightstand – a thick stack of cash bound in a rubber band shoved into the back corner of the drawer, a bottle of pain killers, and a small, loaded handgun – were an unusual assortment but not exactly concerning.  The black sheets on his bed still smelled strongly of detergent, and Inej couldn’t quite tell if the bed had just been recently made or if it simply hadn’t been slept in for a while.  Her money was on the latter.

The tiny bathroom next door was equally uninteresting.  There was a clothes hamper wedged between the counter and the shower, and while Inej had expected to find the clothes there splattered in blood and gore, a quick inspection revealed that there was nothing out of the ordinary. That fact alone, though, was unordinary.  This was Brekker, right?  Known for his violence and his greed, renowned for his bloodlust and anger.  But, if that really were the case, where was the evidence of that life?

Beneath the sink, a few soft towels had been folded and stacked beside a small supply of extra toiletries.  The countertop itself was sparse but just as neat as the rest of the apartment. A small cup held a tube of toothpaste and a single gray toothbrush.  A half-emptied bottle of mouthwash sat between the cup and a container of pomade with a rich, masculine scent.  On the other side of the sink sat a plain black comb, a bottle of cologne that smelled just as expensive as the shirts in the closet had felt, and a small box that, when opened, revealed a collection of gold and silver rings and a few pricy looking watches.

In the living room, a dark leather couch and a single matching armchair faced a TV that was unplugged from the wall.  A single coaster sat on a dark wood coffee-table beneath a nearly empty mug of what Inej assumed was black coffee.  The kitchen was obscenely clean, but the reason for that was made evident by the amount of take-out containers in the trash.  A quick check of the cabinets and drawers revealed a shocking lack of dishware and a measly silverware drawer.  In fact, it appeared as if the most frequently used item in the entire kitchen was the coffee pot in the center of the counter that still held a cups worth of cold coffee.

The only object of any real interest in Brekker’s entire apartment, Inej discovered, was the desk neatly nestled in the corner of his bedroom, which Inej returned to after she’d surveyed the rest of the space.  The top of the desk was fairly bare, holding only a sleek gray laptop, a couple of notebooks – which, upon inspection, seemed to be ledgers of some sort filled with scribbled numbers - a single pen, and a green-tinted glass ashtray that was in desperate need of being emptied. 

The laptop was, unfortunately, password protected, and Inej wasn’t yet skilled enough with computers to even attempt hacking it.  Instead, she closed the device and turned her attention to the four desk drawers.  All of which, she quickly discovered, were locked up tight.

“Why would you lock these but nothing else?” Inej asked herself quietly, head tipped in consideration.  She pulled the desk chair back and sunk into the soft cushion.  She’d only just rid herself of her flashlight and reached into her pocket to find the two slender lockpicks she kept there when she distantly heard the unmistakable sound of keys in a lock.

Inej abandoned the lockpicks, swung her legs up onto the desk, and settled back in Brekker’s desk chair to wait.  Down the short, narrow hallway, Inej heard the front door swing open and then click shut.  A clatter sounded as key landed on a solid surface, followed by the crinkling of a plastic bag that Inej would wager was even more take-out.  Uneven footsteps, accompanied by the click of a cane, began to head in her direction, but they stopped suddenly before reaching her.

For a brief moment, Inej wondered if perhaps Brekker was simply going to turn back towards the kitchen.  However, a breath later he was spinning around the open bedroom door, his cane brandished like a weapon in one hand and a cocked pistol in his other. 

When the barrel of the gun landed on her, Inej raised a challenging brow.  Though, truthfully, she doubted Brekker could even see her expression between the darkness in the room and the hood shadowing her features.

“No locks on the windows but you come in pistols blazing?”

Slowly, Brekker lowered both weapons, though he kept them firmly grasped in his clenched fists.  With the hand still holding the head of his cane, he reached for the light switch and flooded the room in a wave of dull yellow light.

“You should really get some lamps in here,” Inej commented lightly.  The thin-lipped scowl on Brekker’s face told her that he was not amused.

“I thought I was paying you to investigate Per Haskell,” Brekker spoke in a low, smooth voice. “Not me.”

The truth, though it felt like a slippery thing at this point, was that Inej had not intended to snoop into Brekker’s personal life.  Not at first, at least.  After their meeting last night, Inej had every intention of getting this job done as quickly and painlessly as possible.  This job would earn her the last few thousand she’d need to leave the city, and once she had it in her hands, there was only one thing left to take care of before she could turn and run as fast and as far as she could.  The only problem was that Inej wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle her last task on her own.

It wasn’t until she’d been in Haskell’s office that she began to put several moving pieces of her own puzzle together and considered just how beneficial a man like Brekker might be to her plan. And, before her ideas were even fully formed, she’d found herself sailing across the city towards the building he and a couple of the other Dregs called home.  She couldn’t be sure what exactly it was she’d been looking for here – proof of his power, evidence of his ruthlessness, clues towards his capabilities – but she wasn’t entirely sure she’d found it. However, she knew that he was likely her best chance at getting her job done, so it was a risk she was willing to take.

“I didn’t take anything,” Inej assured as she watched Brekker’s eyes scanning over the room in a slow arch.  She didn’t feel the need to add that there wasn’t much for her to take even if she had wanted to.

“Then what are you doing here?”

There was the tiniest hint of nerves around the edge of his voice, which was fascinating considering how stoically Brekker carried himself.  He tried to hide his unease by leaning casually against the doorway, but Inej couldn’t be fooled by his faux nonchalance.  The tension in his shoulders was still rigid, and the hand wrapped around the handle of his gun was still a tight fist. 

“Let’s start with the easiest explanation,” Inej answered.  “I have news for you about Haskell.”

“This isn’t how we agreed to meet to go over what you found.”

Inej shrugged. “Things changed.”

“Fine,” Brekker said, though his tone suggested that it was anything but fine. “Payment first, I’m assuming?”

Inej didn’t answer, and she didn’t have to. Brekker was already pocketing his gun and crossing the room to the bedside table.  From inside the single drawer, he removed the thick stack of cash that Inej had noted earlier.  He flipped through it, as if counting at a speed Inej couldn’t comprehend, plucked several bills out of the rubber band, and then tossed the rest of the stack her way. Inej plucked it from the air with ease. Though, after a much slower, cursory count, she turned to him with a scowl.

“This is only $4,500.”

“We’ll call the missing $500 compensation for breaking and entering my apartment,” Brekker said, tucking the remaining bills into his own pocket. 

“Is it really considered breaking and entering if I didn’t even have to break anything?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm,” Inej hummed dismissively, slipping the stack into her inside coat pocket.  While her gut reaction was to insist her payment in full, she could tell that Brekker was in no mood for an argument after her intrusion.  Plus, the bottom line was that she would likely still need his help after this was over, missing $500 or not, so she decided to let it go for now. “I went to Haskell’s office at The Crow Club first, but there wasn’t much of anything there besides a few beer stains on his desk and a case of cigars hidden away under some old papers.”

Brekker shook his head lightly, as if expecting this answer. “He wouldn’t keep anything of importance there. Too many bodies coming and going at all hours.”

“His home office was much more enlightening.”  From her pocket, Inej retrieved the stack of photos she’d printed off in a rush.  She slid them across the desk as Brekker approached. “Did you know he has a secret compartment build into the underside of his desk?”

Brekker lifted the first photo, inspecting it carefully.  “This is what was inside?”

Inej nodded. “I took pictures of as many as I could, but I didn’t get to look at them all before he came back.”

As Brekker continued to glance over the photos with his brow furrowed, Inej recalled her own confusion at Haskell’s home.  Inside his office, she’d found an overwhelming amount of nothing waiting for her.  There was a ledger for The Crow Club, labelled and official on the outside, but the inside was filled with nothing but fudged numbers and bad math.  An entire wall of his office was filled with books that Inej was positive a man like Haskell had never read, and all of his desk drawers were simply filled with messy stacks of invoices that were years – some, even decades – old, stray take-out menus, and receipts. 

For the leader of a gang that prided itself on its profitability, Haskell had very little documentation in his office.  Sure, Inej had expected secrecy.  She’d expected a safe built into the wall behind a large photograph, a lockbox hidden away behind the book stacks, a false bottom to a drawer where he kept all of his business notes and correspondence. Instead, there was … nothing. 

It hadn’t been until she’d been feeling around the underside of his desk, hoping she’d find a hidden key for some secret door, that her fingers had skimmed over the indented edges of a storage compartment completely built into the wooden frame.  It had taken her a bit longer than anticipated to pick the tiny lock, considering that she had to lay on the ground and hold her flashlight between her teeth in order to do so, but the minute she heard the lock click, the tiny door shot open, spilling stacks of paper onto her face.

She’d assumed that these were the document she’d been expecting to see a businessman like Haskell have in his possession, but it only took her a moment to realize she was incredibly wrong. Inside the secret compartment, Inej found letters, handwritten messages scribed in some code that Inej, in her haste, couldn’t decipher.  There were a few in the stack that weren’t coded, exactly, but were written in another language entirely. Inej thought it might be Fjerdan, though her language skills were not nearly adept enough to be sure. She’d hoped that Brekker would immediately recognize something within those letters, whether it be the handwriting or the language or the code itself, but something in the way his jaw stayed clenched made her worry that he, too, was stumped.

“Many of the letters have the same-”

“Seal?” Brekker guessed, twisting one of the photos so that she could see the emblem of a red blossom in the bottom corner of one of the letters. Inej nodded once. “I don’t recognize it.”

Neither did Inej, and she felt herself deflate a bit with the knowledge that Brekker seemed as lost as she was. Brekker continued to flip through each photo, dark eyes analyzing every inch in only a few seconds before he moved to the next. 

He seemed different here than when they’d first met.  Last night, he’d been all bravado, and he’d carried with him the air of a man far too confident in himself.  Now, that underlying arrogance was still there, but his posture had been tense since the moment he’d stepped into the room.  His unease was beginning to rub off on her, and Inej cleared her throat uncomfortably before she broached the subject of her real agenda here.

“There is something else.”

“What else did you find?”

Inej pursed her lips. “It’s a question, actually.”

Brekker’s hands on the photos paused.  Slowly, he straightened the stack, sat them back onto the desk, and lifted his eyes to hers. “No.”

He turned away from her before she could even respond.  It was a dismissal without the words, but Inej was too stubborn to accept that.

“Are you going to kill him?”

Brekker had only made it a few steps towards the door, but his feet came to a sudden halt when he heard her question.  He kept his back to her, though, the arm propped over his cane rigid.  “That is none of your business, Wraith.  You did your job, you have your money, now get out of my apartment.”

Ice laced his voice, making it a warning as deadly as a blade, but Inej had long learned to hide her fear away in the darkest corner of her mind.  So, she pressed forward.

“I understand why you would,” she challenged, her voice slow and calm.  “You said last night that he was shutting you out, right?”

When Brekker turned to face her again, his eyes were a storm.  “I don’t recall saying that.”

“I collect secrets, Brekker, remember?  And, sometimes, I don’t even have to break in to find any.  Sometimes, all I have to do is watch and listen.”  Inej swung her legs off the desk and leaned forward, bracing her elbows on the smooth, hard surface.  “Last night, you said he was doing something he ‘won’t tell you about’, and you referred to yourself as his right hand.  At first, I figured …maybe the old man is just getting into something embarrassing that he doesn’t want his protégé to know about, but then I came here. Do you know what I found that was interesting?”

The only answer Brekker offered her was a cold stare, and it was at that moment that Inej realized she’d been wrong a few moments before.  What she was witnessing in Brekker right now was not unease.  It was anger - red hot anger that had been simmering since he’d found her uninvited in his home, a flame that she knew she was only going to fuel the longer she spoke. 

She couldn’t stop, though, just like she hadn’t been able to stop for the past few years.  There was one goal left to fight for, and Inej knew she couldn’t do it alone no matter how hard she tried. She needed Brekker to understand her, needed him to know she understood him, and, so, she continued despite the chill his stare sent down her spine.

“Did you know that Haskell doesn’t have a single business related document in either of his offices beyond a Crow Club ledger with shoddy math in it?  You, however,” Inej paused, tapping her index finger on top of one of the notebooks sitting on the desk, “Have up-to-date ledgers on all of the Dregs businesses that I’m aware of. On top of that, judging by a quick glance I got in earlier, they seem to be balanced properly, unlike Haskell’s.  I’m going to step out on a limb and guess that the records Haskell keeps are bogus, a show, just a stack of papers intended to keep him busy while you do all the real work from right here.  Am I getting somewhere?”

“You’re getting closer to a bullet in the chest, if that’s what you mean.”

“You wouldn’t shoot me here,” Inej chided. “This place is too neat. Too tidy.  You wouldn’t risk the clean-up.  At best, you might hunt me down later, but I’d bet my new $4,500 that I’m faster.”

She gave a pointed nod at the cane in his hand, and Brekker’s tone was deadly when he said, “Find your point, Wraith.”

“You came home before I had time to go searching through these drawers here, but I can assume that if I had been able to peek inside, I’d see that the reason Haskell’s office lacks any business documents or correspondence is because all of it is kept right here with you.  Am I right?” When Brekker was not quick to answer, Inej leaned forward onto her elbows and pressed, “How much longer are you going to be content doing all the grunt work and letting Haskell take all the credit?  How much longer are you going to let him use your name as a prop?  How much longer until you decide to take it back from him?”

Brekker worked his jaw as he stalked towards the desk again.  “If I’d known hiring you was going to bring down a fucking inquisition, I'd have broken into Haskell’s office myself.”

“But you didn’t,” Inej countered. “Because you couldn’t.  And, you still haven’t answered my original question. Are you going to kill him?”

Brekker considered her for a long moment.  She held perfectly still, her own challenge clear in her gaze, though, as he looked at her, she couldn’t help but wonder what he saw.  In his eyes, was she still a small, easily manipulated girl?  Did he see the version of her that she’d been when she’d first arrived in this country?  Or, did he clutch at his gun like he had when he first walked in because she was finally something to fear instead of something to frighten?

When he finally spoke again, his voice was a low, dangerous thing. “If whatever Haskell is involved in will jeopardize the Dregs, I’ll do whatever I need to do.”

It wasn’t a direct answer, but that was okay.  It was all Inej needed to give her the courage to propose the idea she’d been sitting on since she’d slunk in through his window. “I want to make a deal.”

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard my proposition.”

“I don’t need to.”

“Brekker-”

“You have already far overstayed your welcome, Wraith.” Brekker snapped. “I work with Dregs and Dregs alone.  Hiring you was a one-time exception built out of necessity, but clearly that was a mistake on my part.”

“Did I not prove myself useful?”

“You did,” Brekker admitted, “but you’re usefulness has reached its end.”

Inej bit the inside of her cheek hard.  This was not at all going how she’d planned.  Though, truthfully, she wasn’t running on much of a plan at all.  She was running on an idea, a hope, a plea. 

“I’m trying to help you.” Inej stood as she tried again, but Brekker scoffed in her face.

“And I’m trying to tell you that I don’t need or want it.”

“Listen!” Inej insisted, her voice rising and betraying her nerves. Brekker, wisely, kept quiet this time, and he allowed her no reaction as she leapt onto his desk, careful feet expertly avoiding the sparse items placed there.  His eyes, however, tracked each of her movements as she crossed the surface of the desk, coming to a stop directly in front of him.

For a long moment, there was nothing but a weighted silence over them as Inej stared down at Brekker and he stared up at her.  Finally, in a low, rough voice, he said, “I’m listening.”

“I want to make a deal,” Inej repeated, the frustration pumping through her veins leaving her voice raw.  “If you agree to the deal, then I will agree to work for you until Haskell is dealt with however you see fit.  I’ll collect whatever secrets you need. I’ll be your eyes and ears across this city. I’ll fight for your cause. Anything you need, I can do.”

From the ground, Brekker studied her, and Inej could not shake the uneasy feeling that he was tearing her apart piece by piece with those dark eyes, which she’d thought at first were a jet black but could now see – with his head tipped back and the overhead light catching on his irises – were really bitter chocolate brown.  The intensity of that gaze was so strong, so pinning, that she worried for a moment that he could pluck her own secrets out just by looking at her.

And then, one of his eyebrows quirked upward. “Anything I need?”

Fear, a grotesque, slimy thing, wound in Inej’s gut at those words, at the already smug expression on his face.  She knew that this is what she’d wanted.  She knew that if she was going to do what she needed to be done, then she’d need his help if she didn’t want to find herself killed long before her destiny was fulfilled.  She knew that Brekker was her best shot. She knew that.

So why did this feel like making a deal with the devil?

There would be time enough for regrets later, she supposed.  She swallowed thickly around her unease and muttered, “Anything.”

“And what do I need to do in return?”

Inej hid the relief that was flooding through her.  “I’m leaving Ketterdam before the year is up, but there is one job I need to complete before I go.  When the time comes for me to complete that job, I’m going to need your help.”

Brekker blinked. “I’m going to need more specifics before I agree to anything.”

Inej shook her head. “I can’t give you that yet.”

“I’m expected to agree to a deal which no details?”

“Yes,” Inej admitted.  “You’ll just have to trust me.”

“I don’t trust anyone,” Brekker deadpanned.

Inej bit the inside of her cheek.  She couldn’t blame him, she supposed.  This was a city that beat trust out of you with a stick before you celebrated your six month anniversary of moving in. This was a city where people took and took until there was nothing left in you to give, until you were withered and broken and couldn’t claw your way back out no matter how much you wanted to. 

“Fine, then.  Don’t trust me.”  Brekker’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but Inej continued, “Think of this as an investment of sorts.  Only you get to reap your rewards first, and I’ll help you take down your boss.  Then, when this is all over, you can pay up by helping me take down the scum who used to be mine.”

It was as much information as she was willing to give Brekker this early, but it seemed to be enough to pique his interest because he offered her a slow, thoughtful nod after a few moments of consideration. 

“Come back tomorrow night, same time,” he said, beginning to back away from the desk and Inej.  “You can meet the rest of my crew.  If you decide you still want to work with me – and them – after that, then you have your deal.”

Inej’s throat felt tight as relief soared through her, so she simply nodded.  As she hopped off the desk, Brekker pulled a thin phone from his pocket.  With his focus now on the device in his hands, Inej took it to be her time to slip out the same way she’d come. 

She already had one foot balanced on the windowsill when he spoke once more.

“Wraith,” he called, waiting until she’d twisted her head to face him again.  He had his phone pressed to his ear, but his attention was on her once more. Calmly, he instructed, “Use the door next time.”

A grin spread on Inej’s face.  In lieu of a reply, she swung her legs out of the open window, chuckling quietly to herself at his suggestion. 

As Inej slipped out into the dark, Ketteram night, she heard Kaz’s voice as someone on the other end picked up his call.  “I’m calling in my favor.”

Chapter Text

Matthias slammed the bar onto the rack and stepped back with a heavy huff.  The training gym was far less crowded than usual, thanks to Brum’s new outdoor training regimen for the new recruits, and Matthias, exhausted, took the lack of extra eyes as his sign to lie flat on his back against the mat and try to catch his breath. 

“Is that all you’ve got?”

The unwelcome memory of a warm, teasing voice swept over him before Matthias could stop it.  He squeezed his eyes shut and muttered a silent prayer.

It had been a year since the last time he’d seen her.  An entire year, and yet here she was again, forcing her way into his head, throwing open the doors of his mind so that she could weasel her way in and corrupt him once more. 

And here he was letting her.  Because, if there was anything solid and true about Matthias, it was that he was at his weakest when it came to Nina Zenik.  She had proven that fact herself on the day they first met.

Nearly two years ago:

Ketterdam was a strange city.  It was not the same frigid cold that Matthias was used to, but the air was still chilly and damp, and the streets smelled of wet earth and industry.  Back home in Fjerda, people moved in orderly waves, they apologized when they crossed into someone’s path accidentally, they bowed their head in gratitude when someone stepped out of their way to let them through. 

Here, things were different.  Here, the people moved in swarms, some headed this way while others headed that way and none of them seemed to notice or care who they bumped into in the process.  On top of that, everything in Ketterdam was loud.  Even in the dead of night, Matthias could hear horns honking, a distant voice yelling, or the slam of a door. 

Honestly, it had been Brum’s idea to send Matthias here, though Matthias found himself wondering how in the world Brum even had connections in a city as corrupt and dangerous as this one. He shouldn’t be that surprised, actually.  Brum was renowned worldwide for two things:  first, his status as Fjerda’s most successful military commander, and second, his home for wayward boys. It was common in Fjerda for parents of challenging, angry children to ship them off to Jarl Brum, who had decades of experience teaching young boys discipline, dedication, and humility. And, if most of those boys left his care with the intention of joining his ranks in the Fjerdan military, well…that was just proof of his success.

While Matthias had grown up in that home with all the other boys, following their training regimens and joining them in scuffles and playing along as if he himself was just another one of them, he knew things were different for him, and so did many of the other boys.  Matthias had not come to Brum as a difficult child, but an orphaned one. Brum had been the one to find him, small and frightened and alone, and offer him a place to belong. And, so, Matthias had clung to it with everything he had in him.  After all, what else was there for him to do?

As a result of this, Brum always held Matthias to a higher standard than the other boys.  He treated him more like a son than a ward.  He paid attention to him, asked him questions, bought him new clothes when the ones he had became stretched or ripped.  He always regarded Matthias with a thin, fond smile, and he always insisted that he just knew Matthias was meant for great things beyond both their expectations.

So, when Brum had suggested that Matthias take a break from his military training and travel to Ketterdam to study diplomacy with a mentor Brum knew there, Matthias had needed very little convincing. After all, he was as strong and brave and courageous as Brum was, now.  All he needed to follow in his foster father’s footsteps was improved statesmanship. 

Before Brum had let him leave, though, he’d been extremely explicit in his warnings about this trip.  Ketterdam was a dangerous place, he’d said.  Ketterdam would try to change him, but he mustn’t let it.  Ketterdam was itself a thief, and it would steal every good thing inside of him if he gave it half a chance.  Ketterdam wouldn’t allow him to drop his guard for even a second because if he did, Brum had warned, then Matthias would see himself, his morals, his dignity and his faith, all wither away right before his very eyes. 

Brum’s warnings had done their job perhaps a little too well, and Matthias had felt so frightened when he’d first arrived to the loud, raucous city that he hadn’t left the mentor’s home in over a week. 

Homesickness, though, was an intense and reliable motivator. That was how Matthias found himself here, following the map on his phone into an increasingly sketchy part of the city with the promise of finding an authentic Fjerdan restaurant in 200 feet.  It was probably unwise to wander around these streets by himself, but he had studied under Brum for so long that Matthias was confident in his ability to win any fight that might come his way.  Besides, he was too desperate for a little taste of home to care about the potential dangers of a new city right now.

However, as he approached the tiny storefront indicated on his screen, Matthias felt himself deflate.  The painted sign above the door was in fact decorated in Fjerdan writing, but it was old and worn.  Matthias confirmed his suspicions when he tugged on the door and found it locked.  He cupped his fingers against the glass and peered inside, realizing with a wave of disappointment that the place must have been closed for a while if the blanket of dust over the counter and floors was any indication.

He huffed his annoyance and took a step back, feeling the bitter homesickness in his gut intensify.  He was beginning to turn back the way he’d come when someone crashed into him from the side roughly.  Matthias stumbled, and a firm hand fell onto the small of his back to steady him.

“Sorry!” a cheery voice instantly called out.  Matthias turned and found a girl several inches shorter than him with long auburn hair spilling down her back grimacing apologetically at him.  She had a phone pressed to her ear with one hand, and she twisted the mouthpiece away from her face as she continued. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. I’m so sorry.  Are you alright?”

Her hand was still on him, and she stared up at him with wide green eyes tinged with both amusement and apology.  It took Matthias a moment to find his focus, and once he had, he said, “It’s…I’m okay.”

“Oh, good.” The girl smiled, a gesture that was bright and friendly, and then her hand slipped away.  As she turned, she offered him a quick wave of her fingers. “Have a good evening!”

And then she was off as quickly as she barreled into him, chattering away at her phone while Matthias’s eyes trailed after her retreating form.  He could still feel the press of her hand on his back, distracting his mental faculties in a way he’d never experienced before. 

So distracting, in fact, that it wasn’t until Matthias went to tuck his phone into his coat pocket that he realized his wallet was no longer there.  Panicked, he began slapping all of his other pockets, only to realize that they were each empty.  When he looked up, he caught the flash of the girl’s green eyes on him.  All trace of apology was gone and had been replaced entirely by her amusement now. 

“Hey!” he yelled, his voice ringing sharp and loud through the fairly busy street.  She’d only made it a block and a half away, so Matthias could still see her clearly as she turned forward once more, tucked her phone away, and slowly picked up her pace.  Matthias started after her, yelling again, “Hey! She took my wallet!”

He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised when none of the other bodies on the street even glanced in his direction.  Brum had warned him about this city’s apathy, the corruption, the lack of morals.  In fact, it seemed that the only person who did acknowledge Matthias’s words was the girl herself, who cast him a quick, barely there glance over her shoulder. Upon realizing that Matthias was following her, she took off at a jog that very quickly turned into a run when she noticed that Matthias was matching her pace.

He had the advantage of speed, thanks to his time spent training under Brum, but this girl had the advantage of Ketterdam at her side.  She took turns Matthias wouldn’t have known existed if he hadn’t seen her just twist in that direction and hopped over obstacles as if they’d never been there in the first place.  Her knowledge of the city helped her get lost in the chaos of the Ketterdam streets, and she’d gotten a couple blocks ahead of Matthias before whipping sharply to the right. Matthias poured on the speed, afraid he’d lose her if he let her get any more of a lead on him. 

However, when he turned into the same narrow mouth of an alley she’d just disappeared into, Matthias found himself blindsided when something straight and hard rammed into his throat with enough force to send him careening backwards.  He hit the dirty alley floor hard enough that the air shot from his lungs, and between that and the throbbing pain in his throat, Matthias was left gasping frantically on the ground like a fish out of water.

It took a moment for his eyes to register the girl again, standing atop a heavy wooden crate with one of her arms outstretched.  Matthias blinked at it, wondering how a limb that looked so soft and smooth could have done that much damage.  He didn’t have long to ponder though before she stepped off of her perch and bent over him, head tipped to the side as a small grin spread over her face.  Her cheeks were pink with her own exertion, her hair a messy curtain around her face, and yet she did not look bothered by Matthias in the slightest.

“Is that all you’ve got?” she teased, a playful giggle falling from her lips even as Matthias struggled to breathe beneath her.  She stretched out an arm and gave his cheek a firm pat. “You’ll be fine, you big oaf.  Shut your mouth and breathe through your nose. And, next time, don’t crawl into The Barrel unless you’re really ready to fight your way back out.”

Matthias was in the middle of doing as she’d instructed when the girl turned and ran off.  By the time Matthias managed to catch his breath – she’d been right, breathing through his nose was helpful – and pull himself upright, she was gone.

“Helvar.”

Matthias slowly forced his eyes open, the memory fluttering away as quickly as it had come to him, and found one of newer additions to Brum’s establishment leaning over him. 

“What?”

“Brum wants you in his office.”

Before Matthias had even begun to stand, the boy had disappeared.  Matthias moved slowly to his feet, and then as he travelled across the house he let his feet drag. He wasn’t sure if it was out of laziness or exhaustion or some nagging irritation that always seemed to exist in him now, but he knew better than to let it show as he approached the second floor.  As he neared the door to Brum’s office, Matthias pulled his shoulders back almost instinctively, set his stony expression in place, and then knocked.

“Enter!” Brum shouted.

He found Brum pacing behind his desk, his arms folded primly behind his back, as he tended to do when he was deep in thought.  A dark cloud shadowed over his features and left Matthias’s stomach in nervous knots as he quietly shut the door behind him.

“Matthias,” Brum acknowledged.  He gestured towards the chair opposite his desk, his movements sharp and agitated.  Matthias took the seat without question as Brum continued to pace, seemingly rolling word after word over his tongue before he finally spoke.

“I just got off the phone with Brekker.”

That one name instantly had Matthias’s blood running cold.  “What?”

Ketterdam’s corruption of Matthias had been like a landslide.  One second, the ground was firm under him, and the first indication that the ground was caving was the press of Nina Zenik’s hand against his back on that busy street.  Before he’d known it, Matthias had been falling, limbs thrashing in an effort to right himself again but there never seemed to be an end. He didn’t even know how it had happened, but he eventually found himself running small jobs with Nina, roped in by a gentle smile and a softly spoken word.  That was how he’d met Brekker, though, sitting across from Brum, Matthias wracked his brain for a reason that Brum should know of Brekker as well, and he kept coming up empty. It didn’t make sense in his brain for the two of them to have any knowledge of one another.

“I had the unfortunate honor of owing him a favor,” Brum explained, lips curling downwards in distaste. 

“A favor?” Matthias questioned, still reeling as his current life and his past one clashed. “For what?”

Brum’s pacing paused suddenly, and he sent Matthias a dismissive glare. “That is none of your concern.  Unfortunately, the favor he’s called in does concern you.”

“What do I need to do?”

Brum’s gaze softened around the edges a bit then.  With a heaving sigh, Brum took his seat behind his desk, placing his folded hands atop the surface.  “I knew you’d understand the urgency in this, Matthias.  According to Brekker, he is working a job in Ketterdam and he requires the assistance of one of my wards.  He requested you specifically.  Truthfully, Matthias, I wish that I could just send someone else in your stead, but Brekker is…”

Matthias could think of about fifteen different adjectives to finish that sentence, though he wasn’t sure Brum would approve of any of them.  Most of them, actually, were words he hadn’t learned until his first trip to Ketterdam. 

“I know that you have a particular weakness when it comes to Ketterdam,” Brum began again, and Matthias balled his hands into fists in his lap, hoping Brum couldn’t see. “However, Brekker confirmed that the girl is no longer there, so that point of distraction will no longer be a problem for you.”

Relief and regret warred in Matthias’s gut at that news, but he swallowed thickly and answered, “Good.”

“I apologize for springing this on you, but I’m afraid our schedule is a little tight.  You’ll need to catch your flight first thing in the morning, and Brekker has promised to arrange a car to pick you up from the airport in Ketterdam.”

Matthias nodded slowly, though his mind was dizzy from the sudden news.  Flashes of his last trip to Ketterdam swam through his head: hot tears, shouted words meant to slice and dice, wounds that bled and bled and bled. 

It was easy, though, to agree to the things that Brum set before him.  Recently, however, Matthias had found himself wondering more and more if his willingness to agree stemmed from his own desire to please his superiors or if he’d simply learned that there was no other option.

“What else do I need to know about this job?”

“Unfortunately, I have very little information on the matter.  Brekker was not very forthcoming.”  After a moment’s hesitation, Brum added, “You’ve clearly met him before, Matthias, so I’m assuming I don’t need to warn you to be careful?”

“No, sir,” Matthias agreed.

Brum leaned back in his chair, his folded hands falling into his lap.  “I also would like to assume that I don’t need to remind you of your responsibility to me and my family. Do I?”

Matthias’s jaw clenched. “No, sir.”

“Good.  Our only saving grace last time you visited that city was that I managed to find you before the wrong person caught on and spun it into a scandal.  This time, I need you to keep your head down, get the job done, and come straight back home.”

“I understand.”

“We cannot – Matthias, I mean this – we cannot have a repeat of last time.  My political career cannot be put at risk again because of your…confusions. I took you in as one of my own with the trust that you’d make the right choices in life, and I’m putting my trust in you once more by sending you back into that godforsaken city.  Do not disappoint me again.”

“I won’t,” Matthias promised, his throat tight around the words. He didn’t have to tell Brum that he’d felt the disappointment so deep in his bones that it still ached even now, and that he didn’t think he’d be able to survive another hit like that.

“I hope that’s true,” Brum muttered.  With a sigh, he continued, “I have another mission for you while you’re there.”

“What do I need to do?”

“Keep an eye on Brekker,” Brum instructed, his brow straight and stern. “See if you can learn anything that might be of use to us later.”

Matthias’s brows knit. “Like what?”

Brum shrugged lightly. “His habits. His common tricks.  Secrets, weaknesses, what makes him tick.  You were trained for fighting, not espionage, of course, so don’t go out of your way looking for answers.  You’d bring too much attention to yourself that way, but just keep your eyes open for anything that can be held over his head.  Brekker is a good man to have in your back pocket.”

Matthias didn’t quite understand how someone like Brekker, a common Ketterdam criminal with more brains than sense, would fit into Brum’s political and military career, but he knew better than to assume it was his place to ask.  So, instead, he nodded slowly.  “I’ll try.”

“Excellent.” Brum motioned to the door. “Go. Pack. Try to get some sleep.  There will be a car waiting out front to take you to the airport at 5:00.”

Matthias stood, nodding once at the instructions. “Yes, sir.”

Unease bubbled inside Matthias as he left the room, and a stubborn, nervous shadow followed him all the way up to his shared bedroom.  He moved through the motions of packing in a daze, his mind occupied with fighting off more unwelcome memories as they came until he was practically trembling at the thought of being back in the place where his downfall had begun.  Flashes of gentle fingers caressing across his skin turned into the angry slam of fists against his chest.  Green eyes bright with affection turned watery and bloodshot in an instant.  The warm voice shifted from whispering soft names in his ear to shouting insults at his back. 

With his bag now haphazardly packed, Matthias sank down onto his bunk and let his head fall into his hands.  Some part of him, he couldn’t be sure how small, wished desperately that he could reach inside his own mind and scrape out every memory of Ketterdam, of his time there, of Nina Zenik.  Maybe if he could, he might find some respite from the throbbing ache of disappointment and regret that had plagued him for the last year.

Because if he could rid himself of the memories, maybe he would no longer see her tear stained cheeks each time he closed his eyes, or hear the anguish in her voice as she screamed in his face, or watch the resentment burn in her eyes as he’d finally turned away from her for the last time.  

Another part of him, much larger than the first, knew that it would be no use trying to forget her. Despite how hard he’d tried to protect himself against all of the temptations of Ketterdam, she’d managed to worm her way into every inch of his mind.  He thought of her when rain began to fall, he thought of her whenever he smelled the extremely rare sugary treat being prepared in the kitchen, he thought of her whenever he saw the color red.  He thought of her, always, constantly, until it was nearly unbearable, and then he’d force himself to fall asleep, where he’d dream of her instead.

So, as Matthias laid back on his bed, his packed duffle waiting at his side, he prayed that whatever restless sleep he managed to find tonight would be dreamless.

Chapter Text

How did I get here? How did I get here? How did I get here?

The same question had been floating around in Wylan’s mind for the past forty-eight hours without pause.  He knew that the answer to said question was at once both simpler and more complex the longer he considered it.  However, no matter how he spun the question or the answer, it still left his stomach twisted in nervous knots. 

For as long as Wylan could remember, he’d been a liar.  Not in a malicious sort of way, but his true feelings, thoughts, and intentions were often hidden behind a mask of his own making.  Growing up with his father, he’d learned very quickly the types of things he needed to say and do in order to avoid his wrath, and that skill had quickly branched out into all other aspects of Wylan’s life.  He’d long since mastered the art of a fake smile, he’d learned which words to say in which moments to illicit the desired response, he was skilled at gauging a person’s intentions and expectations by judging their body language and tone – another talent that he’d have to thank his father for if he ever saw him again. 

Still though, within all the lies he’d told and all the lives he’d faked, Wylan still struggled to track the path that led him here, seated on the edge of a worn fabric couch with his knees tucked up to his chest while the TV across the room splashed colored light onto his face.  His eyes were locked on a bit of peeling paint on the wall as his mind wandered, but Wylan knew that only a few feet away sat a member of The Dregs, a hardened Ketterdam criminal, a dangerous man.

At least, he was supposed to be.  That’s what Wylan had always been taught about these Barrel boys – that they were creatures not to be trifled with, that they were the monsters that lurked in the alleys, that they were big and bad and frightening.

However, in his two days trapped in Jesper’s apartment, Wylan had learned that the only thing frightening about the Zemeni man was how easy it was to feel comfortable in his presence. That alone had shocked Wylan the most out of all the events he’d endured since he’d arrived in The Barrel. He’d expected the type of man that he’d always been told to avoid – someone sneaky, someone sniffing out his fear in the air to use against him, someone waiting until he dropped his guard long enough to take and take and take from him.

He hadn’t expected the man who’d delivered him his clothes still warm from the dryer.  He hadn’t anticipated the man who made a pot of coffee while sleepily rubbing a hand over his eyes, or the guy who brought out an extra pillow and blanket to leave on the couch while Wylan was in the shower, or the man who sat on the couch beside him to watch television before they went out together on Wylan’s first attempt at a Dregs’ mission.

Nothing about Jesper had been expected.  He was loud, but he was not noisy.  It was as if his mere existence just demanded notice. He took up space in a way that gave Wylan no choice other than to give Jesper his undivided attention. Wylan had found his eyes glued to the Zemeni man far more than he thought was likely acceptable, but he couldn’t help himself.

Additionally, Wylan was used to the type of humor that revolved around thinly veiled insults and mumbled mocking hidden with quiet laughter.  Jesper, however, was not like that, and yet on more than one occasion, he’d shocked a laugh out of Wylan that neither of them had been expecting. There had been several times during Wylan’s stay so far in which the air would grow thick with awkward tension while Jesper considered how he’d ended up housing a stranger and Wylan wondered how he’d ended up there in the first place, and then Jesper would make some off-handed remark that would summon a surprised laugh from Wylan’s lips.  It always made Jesper smile too, and Wylan had to wonder if there was more strategy behind those off-handed remarks than he’d originally thought.

The sudden silence and darkness in the room brought Wylan’s mind tumbling back to the present just as Jesper tossed the remote onto the low table before them.

“Come on, little prince,” Jesper said, standing from the couch and stretching his arms high above his head.  His shirt rode up to his waist as he did, but Wylan pretended not to notice.  “We need to get suited for tonight.”

“Suited?” Wylan asked, slowly uncurling himself from his perch at the end of the couch. “I don’t have any other clothes.”

Jesper chuckled from where he’d already started down the narrow hall towards the bedroom.  “Not exactly what I meant.”

Confusion and nerves made Wylan slow to move, but still he followed after Jesper and stepped cautiously into through the open bedroom door. Inside, he found Jesper standing in his closet, busy with the task of unlocking a safe that had been hidden behind a row of hanging garments.

“Ever shot a gun before?” Jesper asked, not bothering to look up at Wylan as the door to the safe swung open.

“No,” Wylan answered honestly, his weight shifting from one foot to the other.  Jesper lifted a holster already weighted down with two matching pearl-handled revolvers and began to slip the thin leather over his shoulders. “Are you going to teach me?”

Jesper glanced in Wylan’s direction, a grin tugging his lips upward mischievously.  “Tonight?  No.  If you do well, though, and Kaz and Haskell let you on as a recruit…I’ll think about it. You do need a weapon for tonight, however. Just in case.” After a pause, he added, “Why are you still standing over there? Come here.”

Wylan obeyed, though his eyes widened as he got close enough to see the contents of the nearly full safe.  “How many guns do you have?”

Jesper considered the safe with furrowed brows. “A lot.”

“Is it legal to own that many?”

Jesper snorted. “You’re going to have to stop caring about what is and is not legal if you want to stay with The Dregs.”

“Fair enough,” Wylan muttered with a small shrug.  “You keep them all locked up?  What if someone breaks in?”

“First of all, no one would.  Kaz has made sure that everyone in Ketterdam knows that this building is Dregs territory, and coming onto the property is as good as signing your own death warrant.  Second of all, I keep my mom’s old gun tucked under the mattress for emergencies, but I’ve never had to use it.” Jesper hesitated, then asked teasingly, “Why? You don’t feel safe here?”

 “I do, I just…wasn’t expecting gun safety in the Barrel.”

“It’s less about safety and more about not wanting Kaz to fuck with my stuff because he will break in here with no remorse.” Jesper began shuffling through the contents of his safe. “Have you ever used any weapons?”

Wylan shrugged. “I told you I could make explosives.”

Jesper cast him a suspicious look. “Yes, you did, and we still need to fully unpack that, little prince.  However, explosives aren’t really going to give us an advantage tonight. Let’s try…this one.”  Jesper produced a thin, black handled blade.  He inspected it carefully, judging its weight in his hand, then held it out to Wylan. “Feel like you could deal some damage with that if you had to?”

Wylan accepted the offered weapon and copied Jesper’s movements, inspecting the sharp blade and considering the strange but not uncomfortable weight in his hand.  Seeing nothing necessarily wrong with the weapon, Wylan nodded.  Jesper dug around in his safe for another second, found a thin piece of worn leather that he handed to Wylan, and then he got to work shutting and locking the safe.

When he finished and turned, Wylan was still holding the knife in one hand and the piece of leather in his other, glancing between them in confusion.

“My god, you really are useless at this, aren’t you?” Jesper took both objects from Wylan’s compliant hands. “Let’s pray that you don’t have to kill anyone with this thing tonight.”

“Is that a possibility?” Wylan asked nervously, watching as Jesper slipped the leather over the blade to act as a sheath. 

“In The Dregs? Always a possibility.” When Jesper met Wylan’s eyes, his amused gaze had shifted slightly. “Still sure you want this life?”

Wylan swallowed and nodded.  Jesper had attempted to change his mind - in increasingly creative ways - multiple times in the past two days, but Wylan refused to budge.  He needed this, more than he’d ever be able to explain to another soul.

“Fine,” Jesper relented. “We’ll see if that holds true after tonight, I suppose.”

 Wylan held his hand out, expecting Jesper to slip the knife’s handle back into his hold.  Instead, Jesper reached forward, gripped the hem of Wylan’s t-shirt, and brought it up just high enough to reveal a sliver of pale skin.  With sure, warm fingers, he tucked the now-sheathed blade into the waistband of Wylan’s jeans, settling the handle against his hipbone before dropping the t-shirt back into place and taking a step back.

Wylan tried to feign nonchalance with a curious, raised brow, but he could feel how hot his cheeks were. “I could have done that part myself.”

“And deprive me the joy of seeing you go all pink like that?” Jesper teased with a quiet chuckle. Before Wylan could form a retort, Jesper was already headed for the hall. “Let’s go.  We have a lot of stops to make, and we need to be back in time for the meeting with Kaz.”

“Right,” Wylan mumbled, following after him as if the ghost of Jesper’s fingers against his skin wasn’t haunting him.

Outside, Jesper started down the street, not bothering to check and see if Wylan was still behind him.  He paused beside a sleek red motorcycle, and Wylan thought at first he was simply admiring the thing until he took out a set of keys and threw one leg over the bike.

“Hop on, little prince,” Jesper spoke with a grin.  He grabbed the helmet hanging from the handlebar and tossed it to Wylan. 

“You drive this?” Wylan asked, sure his eyebrows were nearly at his hairline as he took in the shiny metal death trap.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Jesper said as if it answered the question.  “I won it in the very last game I played.”

Wylan tugged the helmet on over his head. “It looks…”

“Hot?” Jesper guessed.

“I was going to say dangerous,” Wylan explained. “But I guess ‘hot’ is also fitting.”

Jesper chuckled. “Get on then.”

Wylan eyed the limited space left on the black cushioned seat behind Jesper.  “We’re both supposed to fit on this?”

“What’s the matter? Scared to be this close to a Barrel rat?”

It was a clear tease, so Wylan decided to play back.  “I’ve slept in your bed already. I don’t see how this will be crossing any new lines.”

Jesper grinned at that, but before whatever fiendish reply that was forming in his head could leave his mouth, Wylan swung a leg over the bike and settled in behind Jesper.  As he predicted, there was barely enough space for him to fit on the seat at all, much less space between his body and Jesper’s, Still, though, he tried to leave whatever space he could, and his hands fumbled nervously for a place to rest.  He settled them on his own thighs, which only made Jesper smirk at him over his shoulder. 

“I’d recommend holding on,” he said slyly, reaching for the ignition.  “I’d say I don’t bite, but it wouldn’t be entirely true.”

Wylan was grateful that Jesper had turned his attention away before he noticed color coating Wylan’s cheeks gain.  Wylan’s only concession on the matter was to take fistfuls of Jesper’s thin coat in both hands as the bike roared to life beneath them, drowning out all other sound. 

It became clear the minute Jesper peeled out into the street that a fistful of jacket was not quite enough to keep Wylan sturdy.  The bike rocketed forward, jostling Wylan roughly. He scrambled for Jesper in an effort to stay upright, both of his hands digging into Jesper’s hips as he pressed his chest against Jesper’s back.  He couldn’t hear Jesper’s laughter over the engine, but he felt his shoulders shake in tell-tale amusement.

Wylan rolled his eyes and tried his hardest to loosen his grip.  As he did, he asked himself again, how did I get here?

As their night seemed to be rolling to a close, Wylan found that he had come to three conclusions.  The first of which being that Jesper Fahey drove like an absolute madman with zero care for his own safety, much less Wylan’s.  On numerous occasions, Jesper had taken reckless turns at speeds that left Wylan’s fingers digging into Jesper’s hips and his thighs squeezing around Jesper in an effort to keep himself upright. He’d mumbled a complaint the first time he and Jesper had disembarked during their journey, but Jesper’s only response had been a sly grin and a taunting I told you to hold on.

The second thing that Wylan had concluded was that Dregs work was, as far as he could tell, fairly tame in comparison to the dangers his father’s endless, raging rants had warned about.  When Kaz had agreed to let Wylan tag along on a collections run as a test, Wylan had expected to spend his night dodging violence and wishing he were anywhere else.  Instead, the entirety of the mission included stopping by over half a dozen mom-and-pop type shops around The Barrel to collect a thick stack of cash, which Jesper would then deposit into his jacket pocket before they moved on to the next stop. When Wylan asked what the money was for, Jesper had hastily explained, “Protection.”

Which led Wylan to his third discovery of the night:  Jesper was apparently a very popular man within The Barrel despite his affiliations to what many regarded as the deadliest gang in Ketterdam. So much so that each time they crossed the threshold into one of these businesses, they were given what felt like the royal treatment.  As soon as the business owners spotted Jesper’s tall form entering, they’d pause their work and offer the two of them – though, Wylan tended to be more of an afterthought once they realized he was there with Jesper – a seat, a drink, a round of small talk.  Jesper would oblige each time, accept whatever offering was given, and place a few bills on the table even when they told him it was on the house.  He’d talk lightly and easily about people or places that Wylan wasn’t familiar with until Wylan began to wonder how long they planned to stay, and then Jesper would suddenly broach the real reason of their visit.  Sometimes the cash slipped into his hand was folded in a crisp envelope, sometimes wrapped in a brown bag, sometimes lose bills. Jesper, in turn, would lazily count it, tip his head in appreciation, and then he and Wylan were off.

Wylan supposed he shouldn’t be than surprised. He’d only spent a couple of days with Jesper and he was already aware of his charm, so surely the locals Jesper meets with more regularly would know better than to be shocked by his charisma.

However, Jesper’s calm, confident energy slowly began to shift as they drove towards what he’d promised would be their last stop of the night.

“Be ready,” Jesper said after he’d killed the engine to the bike once again. “There’s a reason I saved this stop for last.”

Wylan swung his leg over the bike and began to unbutton his helmet while Jesper followed suit. “Be ready for what, exactly?”

“Anything,” Jesper replied, taking the helmet from Wylan’s hand and hanging it over the handlebar. “This guy isn’t like the other people you’ve met today.  He’s…irritable.”

“How irritable?” Wylan asked as he began to follow along behind Jesper.  Their last stop was a ratty old convenience store that looked like it had definitely seen better days, but thankfully there were no cars in the lot besides the motorcycle they’d arrived on and an old, beat-up blue car parked at the other end of the small lot.

Jesper shrugged. “See for yourself.”

With that, he tugged open the door.  The small bell above the door shrieked in protest at the movement, which in turn grabbed the attention of the middle-aged man seated behind the counter.  However, the minute he laid eyes on Jesper, the man’s entire demeanor shifted.

“Fahey,” he said, twisting his lips up as if he’d tasted something sour.  

“Tim!” Jesper called out, his tone friendly despite the fact that his shoulders were stiff as he and Wylan strode towards the counter.  “How’s business?”

Tim’s eyes turned violent. “You know exactly how my business is going. Because of you and your crew, I’ve barely had a dozen customers in the past week.”

Jesper hissed in a sympathetic breath through his teeth.  “That is tough.  If only there were some way for us to fix that.”

“Fuck off, Fahey. You and your leech of a boss won’t get another cent out of me.”

Jesper sighed, and as he did, his hands came to rest on the white handles of his twin revolvers. “Come on, Tim. I know having this conversation for the past three months has been exhausting.”

“It has,” Tim agreed. “So leave me the hell alone.”

“I’m afraid that really isn’t an option anymore,” Jesper spoke with a shrug. “The truth is that my boss has made it very clear to me that this will be your last courtesy call.  You know what happens when a Dreg stops making courtesy calls?”

Tim ground his teeth so hard it made Wylan’s own jaw ache at the sight. He did not, however, offer up an answer, so Jesper continued for him.  “You see, this will be the last time we ask nicely.  If you continue to be uncooperative, it won’t be me you’ll be dealing with anymore. Instead, it’ll be one of our bruisers here to take what you owe us by whatever means necessary.”

Tim nodded, almost thoughtfully, and then with a calmness that garnered no concern from Wylan until it was too late, produced a gun from beneath the counter.  In the time it took Wylan to register what was in his hands, Jesper had already raised one of his own revolvers.

The once stagnant air of the convenience store turned suddenly thick with tension.  While Tim and Jesper stared at one another with equally stern stares, Wylan forced himself to remember how to breathe. He was supposed to be presenting himself as a member of The Dregs – or, at least, he should be if he ever wanted Kaz to agree to let him join. Members of The Dregs did not freeze at the sight of a weapon, their breath didn’t stutter in their throat at the prospect of a fight, their fingers didn’t curl into tight fists at their sides to prevent their fingers from shaking. No, instead, they were like Jesper, straight backed, head high, the tiniest, barely there hint at a daring smirk on his lips. 

It felt too risky for Wylan to remove his eyes from Tim, so he studied as much of Jesper’s posture as he could from his periphery, then copied them each. He tipped his chin up, he squared his shoulders, and he tried his damnedest to paint a mask of nonchalance on his face to match Jesper’s.

“Tim,” Jesper chided, clicking his tongue in disapproval.  “Threatening a Dreg, really? That’s got to be your dumbest move yet, and that is truly saying something.”

Tim cocked his head towards the door. “Get out, and tell your boss that if he likes your brains on the inside of your head, he’ll know better than to send you back here.”

“I tried to play this the nice way for you, but I guess that approach can get lost on someone who is as dense as he is old.” Jesper shifted his weight, and though the movement was subtle, it had Tim gripping the handle of his own weapon tighter. “Let me boil it down for you then, alright?  My orders were to leave here tonight with our money.  Your life was a negotiable point.”

Wylan tried not to shiver at the violent expression that crossed Tim’s face.

“I told you to get out,” he spat through gritted teeth.

“And I’m telling you that I’m not going to do that until I have our money in my hands.”

“And if I call the cops?”

“Then at least someone will find your body before morning,” Jesper said, his light tone at war with the harshness of his words.  “Wouldn’t count on it still being warm by the time they get here, though. Response times are shit in The Barrel, you know?”

“And what if I shoot you first?” Tim challenged. 

While Wylan had done everything that he could to make himself appear as outwardly confident in this situation as Jesper was, he couldn’t do anything about the thundering pulse in his ears or the symphony of thoughts crowding his mind.  His head was loud, all versions of his own voice screaming at him to run, to stay, to throw himself between the raised barrels, to throw his arms over his head and hide, to stay quiet, to yell out.  The only thought that he was even close to making sense of was this:  he was not about to let all of his effort go to waste thanks to some arrogant shop owner with a gun levelled at Wylan’s one-way-ticket into The Dregs.  There was far too much at stake to walk away from it all now.

So, Wylan did what he did best.  He lied.

“Then I’ll shoot you,” Wylan interjected, and he heard Jesper’s breath hitch momentarily at his side.  It was the first words he’d spoken since they’d entered, and Tim’s eyes shot towards him. When they did, Wylan shifted the hem of his jacket to reveal the vague outline of the knife handle beneath his shirt.  He hoped that Tim was really as dumb as Jesper suggested and truly believed there was a gun hidden beneath the fabric. Otherwise, this was going to turn very messy very fast.

“Who the hell are you?” Tim demanded, flicking his gaze between Jesper and Wylan rapidly. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Wylan answered honestly.  “All that matters right now is that your debt will be paid by the time tonight is over. You can either put the gun down and hand over the money you owe us, or your death will become a side column story in tomorrow’s newspaper.  One way or the other, though, we’re getting paid.”

Tim ground his teeth roughly. “I’m just trying to run a business. I never asked for any of this shit.”

“Me either,” Wylan admitted. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re out of options. The only question you have to answer now, Tim, is whether or not you want to be able to walk out of here tonight.”

Tense silence spread through the air like molasses, making Wylan’s pulse thunder impossibly loud inside his own head.  If Tim saw through his bluff – or, if he was feeling particularly reckless tonight – then there was nothing stopping him from pulling that trigger right now.  Try as he might, Wylan couldn’t stop his brain from producing the image of Jesper stumbling backwards, a spilling wound in the dead center of his chest, his confidence finally crumbling in time with his body. 

Wylan shook off the thought.  If Tim saw the slightest hesitation in Wylan’s countenance, he’d know.  So, Wylan worked to keep his form tall and sure, even though he was trembling on the inside.

Then, as suddenly as it had been produced, the gun in Tim’s hand clattered onto the counter. As Wylan breathed out a tiny sigh of relief, Tim threw his hands up in equal parts annoyance and defeat. 

“Leeches,” Tim spat, his face turning a particularly disturbing shade of red as his anger and embarrassment grew. He turned and began to stalk off, but the sharp crack of a gunshot made him – and Wylan – jump. 

The glass case just above Tim’s head exploded in a rainstorm of shattered glass, and Tim’s shouted cry was quickly covered by the repeating ping, ping, ping of glass raining against the linoleum, though Wylan barely heard either over the sudden ringing in his ears.

“The hell, Fahey?”

“For some reason, Tim, I’m finding it really hard to trust you right now,” Jesper said. He hadn’t lost the usual lightness in his tone, but there was a tense set to his jaw that told Wylan he’d been equally on edge.  He didn’t lower the smoking gun in his hand even a centimeter as he spoke. “My friend will get the money. Tell him where.”

Tim glared between Jesper and Wylan for a long moment before he finally said, “Fine.  The safe is underneath the desk in my office.  I have to get the keys out of the cash register, is that alright?”

His voice was mocking, but Jesper ignored the taunt and simply lifted his chin in approval. Tim moved slowly to the register, keeping one hand visible on the counter while the other unlocked the drawer.  There were a few long moments of him digging around before he produced a single loose key.  He tossed it without looking, and Wylan just barely managed to catch it before it hit the ground.

When Wylan turned to Jesper, the man refused to look at him.  Instead, he gave a quick jerk of his chin and muttered the word, “Go.”

There was a coldness in his voice that Wylan hadn’t heard before, but he took his cue without asking any further questions. There was only one door on the far wall, so Wylan made his way over.  Inside, he found a dented metal filing cabinet shoved into the corner, a wobbly desk pressed up against the wall, and dozens upon dozens of printed invoices and bills tacked onto the bulletin board beside the door.  It only took a moment of looking to find the short, square safe hidden beneath the desk, and, even though he was alone here, Wylan pretended his hands weren’t shaking ever so slightly as he used the key to unlock it. 

It wasn’t until the door to the safe swung open that Wylan realized he didn’t know how much Tim actually owed The Dregs, but he figured that going back out to ask for a number wouldn’t look very professional of him.  So, without giving himself much time to think about what he was doing, Wylan began stuffing the wads of bills he pulled from the safe into every pocket he had.  He did not stop until the entire safe was cleared and his pockets were nearly overflowing.  He took a moment to ensure that none of the bills were in danger of spilling out, but he was interrupted when the low murmur of voices from the front of the store met his ears.  Before he could even consider trying to eavesdrop, there came a sudden slam, and Wylan raced out of the office without bothering to shut the safe’s door.

At the front of the store, Wylan found Jesper leaning over the narrow counter, and on the other side, Tim groaned from the ground.  His hands cradled what seemed to be a crudely broken nose that left blood trailing down his chin and into the neck of his t-shirt.

“What happened?” Wylan asked breathlessly, his eyes darting between the two. 

“Our friend here felt brave enough to try for his gun again,” Jesper answered, clicking his tongue in admonishment. “A bad gamble on his part.”

Whatever Tim attempted to mumble in response was muffled by the hands he pressed over his face. Jesper, unbothered, stepped back from the counter, turned to Wylan, and lifted a single brow in question.  In response, Wylan pulled a stack of cash from one of his pockets as evidence, then tucked it away again after seeing Jesper’s nod of approval.

Jesper rapped his knuckles on the counter with a flourish.  “See you next month, Tim. Make sure you get that nose set quickly.”

With that, the Zemeni man turned and headed for the exit with Wylan silently following behind.  The minute his feet hit the asphalt, Wylan couldn’t shake the sudden adrenaline rushing through his body.  They’d made it, and he’d helped.  Kaz would surely approve of him joining The Dregs after a stunt like that.  He’d have his in, finally, and then he’d make sure that nothing could-

A hand shoving against his chest startled him, causing his feet to stumble backwards a few steps. 

“That was fucking stupid, do you know that?”

Wylan blinked up at Jesper.  He’d been too lost in his own excitement at first to notice Jesper suddenly turning on him, and even though the man only had a few inches on Wylan, the furious look on Jesper’s face made him seem suddenly ten times larger.

Hesitantly, Wylan asked, “What was stupid?”

“You,” Jesper accused, stabbing his finger at Wylan’s chest.  “What would have done if Tim had actually pulled that trigger, huh? What if he’d fucking shot me, and all you had to defend yourself with was some shitty knife that you don’t even know how to use?  The only reason we aren’t both bleeding out on that disgusting convenience store floor right now is because Tim has a lot less brains than he does balls.”

Wylan knew he was right. In fact, the same thoughts had flown through his own head only moments before.  However, hearing them from Jesper’s lips without a trace of the man’s usual amused casualness left Wylan’s mouth suddenly dry.

“But we got the money,” Wylan defended.  “That’s what we needed to do, right?”

“There was never supposed to be a we in this.  I only let you tag along because I felt sorry for you.  If I knew you were going to try to get yourself killed, I’d have saved my pity for someone else.”

Wylan took a step back at the sting of Jesper’s words. “I never asked for your pity. All I wanted was a chance to prove myself, and I did that.”

“And almost got us both shot in the process.”

“But we didn’t get shot,” Wylan insisted, his voice growing in volume along with his annoyance. “And we have the money that you failed to get on your own for the past three months.  I don’t understand why you’re so angry with me.”

“Because what you did was dangerous!”

“You told me this whole life was dangerous!” Wylan countered. Jesper shook his head in disbelief, but Wylan didn’t give him a chance to reply before adding, “Look, I took a risk, and it paid off. What else is there to argue about?”

Jesper’s cool gray eyes considered Wylan for a long moment, taking him in as if for the first time.  Finally, he let out a restrained sigh and said, “Nothing. Let’s go before we’re late for the meeting with Kaz.”

The new, unexpected tension between the two was a nearly palpable thing as Jesper climbed onto the motorcycle again.  He brought the vehicle to life while Wylan was still swinging his leg over, and Wylan had just barely hit the seat before Jesper was taking off.

If Wylan thought Jesper’s driving had been wild before, it was nothing compared to how he drove with irritation and adrenaline pumping through his veins.  He took turns so fast that Wylan felt sure he’d topple off the bike completely.  He slammed on the brakes so hard that it forced Wylan to slide forward until they were impossibly close, which only egged on both of their annoyance with one another.  Once, he accelerated so suddenly that Wylan had grabbed onto him too roughly and accidentally pinched his skin, making Jesper jolt. 

Wylan spoke no words, though.  In fact, he kept his jaw clenched and his lips pressed tightly together their entire drive, afraid that if he allowed himself to speak the words might start tumbling over one another, and there were too many secrets hiding in the corners of his mind for him to let his thoughts out freely.

They were nearly back to Jesper’s apartment building by the time Jesper’s driving had finally mellowed out. The motorcycle rolled to a gentle stop at a red light, and, almost hesitantly, Jesper tapped Wylan’s knee and motioned that he had something to say.  Wylan was reluctant, but he still leaned forward and angled his head so that he could hear him better.

“I’m sorry,” Jesper shouted in order to be heard over the roar of the engine. Wylan’s eyes widened a bit at the confession, but still, he kept quiet. “You did good for your first job, alright? Real fucking good.”

Then, the light turned green and Jesper sped off, preventing Wylan from finding any words to answer with.  After a moment, though, he gave Jesper’s hip two gentle squeezes in response, hoping that the Zemeni man would understand it as the acceptance that it was. He must have, because the rigidness of his shoulders softened just a hair. As the road flew beneath them, though, Wylan felt dark, sticky guilt beginning to brew in his gut. 

However, by the time they’d pulled into one of the narrow parking spots near the worn brick apartment building, Wylan had forced the feeling away somewhere inside his own head.  And, when Jesper climbed off the bike and offered him a small, apologetic smile, Wylan managed to return it with sincerity.

Chapter Text

“Have I told you recently that you are the reason that I drink?” Nina complained, casting a quick glance into the rearview before switching lanes.  

“It’s been a few days,” Kaz’s voice replied over the stereo, which made him sound even more gravelly and grumbled than usual.  “You were overdue.” 

“I don’t even know what this guy looks like!” Nina snapped loudly. “How am I supposed to know who I’m looking for?” 

She merged into the arrivals lane at the rinky-dink airport Kaz had directed her to nearly an hour outside of Ketterdam.  His vague instructions that she’d received via text only a few hours ago had simply included this address and the words ‘need you to pick up an associate from this airport at 9.  bring him back to the apartment’. 

Nina had thought very little of the message at first, assuming that Kaz’s lack of detail on the matter had more to do with his distaste for texting than anything else.  However, when she’d called him from the exit ramp demanding more details, he’d refused to offer her even a hint of more information.  

“You’ll know when you see him,” Kaz assured calmly, just as he had twice before already.  

“What is that even supposed to mean?” Nina rolled her eyes with a groan - an expression that she reserved almost exclusively for conversations with this very man.  “Sometimes your efforts to be cryptic are less charmingly mysterious and more aggressively annoying.  Can’t I at least have his name?  Or, I don’t know, any type of identifiable information about this guy?” 

Kaz rustled with something in the background, and Nina heard the faint sound of metal scraping against metal.  “You don’t need his name, Nina, trust me.” 

“Trust you?” Nina snorted. “Oh, that’s-” 

Her words died in her throat as her eyes found the tall, familiar form leaning against a light pole on the sidewalk ahead.  He stood with his face turned away from her, but it didn’t matter.  She didn’t need to see his face to know him.  In fact, she was fairly certain that she could recognize him as easily as she could breathe, which left her wondering why the sight of him had her feeling so utterly and painfully breathless. 

Kaz’s voice snapped her back to reality so suddenly that it left her head spinning.  “Told you.” 

“Brekker,” Nina began, speaking in a voice that was far calmer than she actually felt.  She pulled into the line along the sidewalk to wait behind the other cars.  “I don’t know how or when, but I promise you that I will get you back for this.” 

The sound he made in response was either half a laugh or a full scoff, but Nina was barely paying attention to him anymore.  How could she, when a ghost was standing fifteen feet away, illuminated by soft yellow light that might have made him look angelic if Nina hadn’t known who he really was. 

“Meeting is in an hour. Don’t be late,” Kaz replied in a bored tone, ignoring her threat.  Nina had just opened her mouth to reply with what was sure to be a string of foul words, but she was interrupted by the sound of the stereo beeping, indicating the end of the call.  

And, as silence engulfed the car, Matthias turned.  

He cut his hair, Nina thought, though that fact was unsurprising when one considered how long it had been since she’d last seen him.  The time had done little to erase him from her memory, unfortunately, and despite the distance between them now she felt as if she could see every tiny detail on his face mirrored in her mind.  

His blonde hair - though it was a bit shorter now than it had been when she’d known him - still gave way to honey colored skin, smooth except for the small scar just above his left brow.  It was a tiny thing, really, but Nina was well aware of its presence.  She’d spent many late nights and early mornings trailing her fingers carefully over his skin, feeling for the little divot he’d earned in some long forgotten childhood accident.  His light colored brows were tipped towards one another in the middle, caught in a state of perpetual brooding that Nina had always told him would be much more intimidating if it weren’t for his eyes. 

They’re too childlike, she’d teased him over and over.  Too innocent.  They prove that beneath all of that tough, Fjerdan bravado, you’re still just a boy.  

Her halted breath grew stagnant in her lungs as she waited for the moment that his eyes would finally find her, and she knew the moment that they had because those familiar, boyish eyes turned foreign and cruel in an instant. 

Once - in what felt like another lifetime but was realistically only a year ago - when those eyes had fallen onto her, they’d been heavy with adoration, crinkled at the edges with the weight of a smile that was wider than she’d originally thought him capable of.  Now, as he stared at her, there was nothing but cold, bitter distaste in that icy blue gaze.  His lips, likewise, fell into a foul, disgusted curl, and Nina felt like what little air was left in her lungs had been sucked out completely.  

The car in front of her peeled off, and Nina forced herself to take a deep, steadying breath before pulling forward.  The car rolled to a stop directly beside Matthias, and he held himself perfectly still, as if he thought even the simple act of breathing might turn this nightmare into his reality.  

Slowly, Nina rolled down the window.  Matthias was still motionless, watching her with eyes that threatened to rip her apart if she let them.  Instead, Nina let out an annoyed sigh and said, “I understand that I’m a sight for sore eyes, Matthias, but the staring thing is really starting to creep me out.” 

Apparently, that was all it took to get Matthias moving.  Instead of climbing into the car though, he ducked down to peer at her through the opened window, his scowl still perfectly in place. 

“Why are you here?” 

Nina gestured in front of herself lazily.  “Is it not obvious?  I was chosen to be your chauffeur for the evening.  Against my will, might I add.” 

Matthias’s eyes narrowed, and he sounded as vexed as she felt when he accused, “Kaz said that you wouldn’t be in Ketterdam.” 

“Yes, well, we both know that Kaz Brekker is the poster-boy for honesty,” Nina spat.  “Speaking of the bastard, I have an hour to deliver you to him, and it’s a fifty minute drive.  Let’s get moving.” 

Matthias twisted his head left and then right, searching the long line of cars on either side as if he hoped that this was all some horrible trick, and that there was secretly another car waiting to drive him back into the city.  Unfortunately, neither of them were that lucky, and when one of the security guards finally yelled for Matthias to hurry up, he turned reluctantly back to Nina.

“Bag in the trunk?” 

“Sure,” Nina muttered, hitting the button to open it as he rounded the car.  While he took time situating his duffle in the trunk, Nina busied herself with trying to calm her fraying nerves.  Absently, she wondered if Matthias was doing the same, though she doubted it.  

It’s just Matthias, she reminded herself shakily.  He’s the same as he always was. 

That thought did little to settle her nerves, but she managed to tuck away her unease and force herself into a faux state of disinterest by the time Matthias opened the passenger’s door. 

As they sped out of the arrivals zone and headed for the highway, a thick, uncomfortable silence enveloped them both.  That is, until either Nina’s irritation or her curiosity - she couldn’t be sure which was in the lead right now - got the better of her. 

“Why are you here?” 

Matthias must have been lost in thought because he jolted a bit when she spoke. “In Ketterdam?” 

Nina fought the urge to roll her eyes.  “Yes, Matthias. In Ketterdam.  I believe your last words to me were that you’d ‘never step foot into this hell-hole again’, or something to that effect.  I just wondered what had convinced you to change your mind.” 

Matthias ignored the dig.  “Brum owed your boss a favor.” 

“Haskell?” 

“Brekker.” 

Nina’s nose scrunched.  “Why would someone like Brum owe Kaz anything?” 

“I don’t know,” Matthias grumbled, already sounding irritated from the line of questioning.  “All I know is that Brekker called in that favor by flying me out to work some job for him.” 

“You are going to work a job for The Dregs?” Nina asked skeptically.  Matthias nodded, though even in the dim light reflecting off the dash, Nina could see how tightly his jaw was clenched.  “And…Brum just let you come back to Ketterdam?  He made his distaste for this city and the people in it very clear last time I saw him.” 

“He didn’t have a choice,” Matthias defended.  Then, in a quieter voice, he added, “Besides…he agreed on the condition that you would not be in the city.  It’s likely he will bring me back home when he realizes that Kaz lied to him and you’re still here.” 

Nina’s knuckles suddenly ached from how harshly her hands gripped the steering wheel.  “Well, should I just turn around and go hop on whatever plane will take me the farthest away from here?  You know, so we can make sure your daddy stays happy?” 

“Don’t,” Matthias snapped, his voice cold and stern and, somehow, foreign to Nina’s ears now.  “We’re not starting this already.” 

Nina clamped her lips together.  This was an old fight, she was well aware of that, and it was one that would slice open old wounds from the inside if she let herself fall victim to her own anger.  She couldn’t afford to start bleeding again after the cuts had finally begun to heal, so she dropped the topic (however reluctantly).  

The silence that settled over them both was a noose around Nina’s neck, and she could feel it threatening her with every weighted second that passed between them.  The air grew thicker and thicker with every unspoken word that neither of them could say even if they wanted to.  

The rope finally pulled taut when Matthias cleared his throat.  “Nina.” 

He’d barely said a word, and yet Nina felt like she was suffocating.  “What?” 

“I tried calling you.”  His voice was suddenly a quiet, fragile thing, drastically different from the stern tone he’d used only a few minutes before.  “After everything happened.  I…tried.” 

“I know,” Nina breathed.  It was as loud as her voice would allow her at the moment, and she could barely hear her own words over the thud of her pulse in her ears.  

“You blocked my number.” 

Nina swallowed around something thick in her throat.  She didn’t want to be here.  She didn’t want to be having this conversation.  She didn’t want to have to look at him and hear his voice and remember that there was a time when he hadn’t hated her, that he’d once held her softly and wiped the tears from her cheek and drank kisses like wine from her lips.  

But she was here. She was having this conversation, and she did have to look at him and hear him speak and know that, whatever gentle and lovely thing had existed between them in the past was gone now, crushed under his heavy boots and torn apart with her own hands.  

“I know, Matthias,” she finally managed.  For a long moment, he was quiet.  His finger tapped restlessly against the car door, a repetitive tap, tap, tap, tap as he seemingly got lost inside his own mind.  

“Why?” 

The word was a knife.  No, a knife would be too subtle.  This word was a sledgehammer, a question of brutal destruction, and Nina knew that to answer it would be the same as swinging the weapon herself.  

Instead, she said, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” 

The palm of his hand hit the door with a hard thud. “I need to know.  I deserve that much.” 

Nina scoffed, though it was a sound devoid of even a trace of humor.  

“You want to talk about what each of us deserves, Matthias? Because I could go on for days and days on a topic like that.”  When he didn’t immediately answer, she added, “Whatever answers you’re looking for, I don’t have them.  Not yet, at least, and I’m not sure that I ever will.  For now, I think it’s better for both of us if we keep our words to ourselves before we cause anymore damage to one another, okay?” 

She could feel his argument, hanging dangerously between them like a sharpened, swinging pendulum.  One wrong move, one misstep, and they’d both be sliced open all over again.  Thankfully, Matthias seemed to sense this as well, and with a grumbled agreement, he turned away from her as much as the seat would allow and settled for watching the mile-markers pass in silence.  Nina wished she could feel relief, but instead, all she was left with was dread. 

They’d have to face the pendulum eventually - she knew that much - and she found herself wondering which one of them would be able to survive the wounds this time.  If she was a betting woman, she would not put any money on herself. 

Nearly two years ago: 

It’s done, Nina typed out quickly.  She hit send, and didn’t even have the time to slip her phone back into her pocket before it buzzed with Kaz’s acknowledgement. 

Good. Any trouble?

Nothing I couldn’t handle, she answered, then added in a separate message, Barrel men are useless against my Ravkan charm. 

Kaz’s second reply was slower to arrive, so Nina dropped her hand to her side and focused her attention on avoiding the thick cracks in the sidewalk.  

It had been a while since a series of unfortunate events had led Nina to her arrival in Ketterdam as a barely legal adult with no money or belongings to her name.  As she strolled through the dark, deserted streets, she reminisced on those first few months living in the city, where ‘home’ had been a room hardly bigger than a closet and real meals were far and few between.  She hadn’t had much luck finding work beyond a few odd jobs here and there, so she supplemented the rest of her income by taking what she needed and sweet talking her way into the rest.  It was on one such occasion - when she’d coerced a sweet store owner to let her take the bag of groceries free of charge after she’d asked very nicely - that Nina had met Jesper.  He’d admired her skills of persuasion, mentioning that his boss had once seen her flatter her way into twice worth her earned winnings at one of the local gambling dens.  

When Jesper had offered her a place with his crew, though, Nina had outright refused.  She was too stubborn, too toxically independent, and she’d stalked away from the strange Zemeni man with a business card to some place called The Crow Club crumpled up in her pocket.  It was only a few weeks later, after a particularly close call with some dangerous locals, that Nina came to the realization that this city would be a lot easier to navigate with someone watching her back.  So, she’d found her way into The Crow Club, spotted Jesper in the back corner, and told him that she’d wanted in. 

It hadn’t taken long for Nina to find her place among the Dregs.  While Haskell had been introduced to her as the leader, it became clear that she’d be taking her orders from Kaz Brekker, just as Jesper did.  In only a handful of days, Brekker had located Nina’s strengths, and he’d been quick to take advantage of them.  

While Kaz was a skilled communicator when it came to the Dregs or the other Barrel gangs, he lacked the finesse needed to approach the more…sensitive Ketterdam citizens.  That, of course, was where Nina came in.  Whenever he was in need of something from a local businessman, politician, or rich mogul, he sent in Nina.  Truthfully, it should be a bit concerning how easy it was to win over powerful men with a gentle touch or a quiet smile, but Nina had much bigger concerns at the moment. 

Like, for example, the deal she’d just closed with a particularly wealthy businessman only twenty minutes prior.  For the past couple of weeks, Kaz had been having her work through a list of potential investors for The Crow Club.  Tonight’s meeting had been the easiest to crack so far, and all it had taken was a few fake laughs and a feigned interest in horse racing to have him signing the dotted line. 

Her phone buzzed again, and Nina snorted as Kaz’s reply appeared.  Gross. 

Nina switched to her messages with Jesper, intending to ask if he’d already eaten dinner - which, considering the late hour, was likely a yes - but she was only halfway through typing out the words when she rounded the corner at the end of the street and ran face first into a sturdy mass of a man. 

“Shit,” she cursed, stumbling backward from the force of the impact.  Her phone, likewise, flew from her hand and connected with the sidewalk with a less than promising clatter.  Nina scrambled for her phone, and she let out a sigh of relief when she found that the screen was still lit and free of cracks.  Satisfied that both she and her phone were unharmed, she finally turned to face the man she’d barreled into.  

“Sorry, I-” 

“I remember you,” he interrupted.  Nina felt her heart drop into her shoes when she realized that she remembered him as well.  It would have been difficult to forget that face - a smooth plain of honeyed skin made up of hard lines and a stubborn expression, broken up only by the bright, brilliant blue of his eyes.  Recognition flickered over his features, as did rage, so Nina took a cautious step back. 

“I think you might be mistaken,” she corrected calmly.  “We’ve never-” 

“I do remember you,” he insisted, cutting her off once more.  His voice was deep and accented, and it took Nina a moment to place it.  “Last week.  You took my wallet.” 

Nina painted on her best impression of an innocent smile and chuckled nervously.  “You must have me mistaken with someone else.  It’s a big city, you know?” 

She turned then, hoping to disappear down a side street before he had half a mind to seek his revenge. She’d only made it two steps before a large hand wrapped around her bicep and dragged her back roughly.  Nina gasped, feeling a minute twinge of pain where his fingers dug into her skin. 

“I’m not mistaken,” he spat, tipping his head down to meet her gaze.  “And you aren’t running away from me again.” 

It was then that Nina became acutely aware of just how alone the two of them were.  She’d chosen this route tonight on purpose, hoping for a quiet stroll home where she’d be unbothered by the vagrants that tended to occupy the streets at this hour.  It was a less trafficked area, and, even if it wasn’t, she was well known in this area for being a Dreg.  On top of that, being one of Kaz’s chosen was enough to keep her safe in the Barrel, no matter where she chose to be.  Everyone here knew the rules, and they knew that touching one of Brekker’s own meant losing a hand - or worse.  The safety of that statement, however, was ripped out from beneath Nina in an instant.  This man was not from around here.  He clearly had no knowledge of the Dregs, much less who she was, and Kaz’s power couldn’t protect her if someone didn’t know the rules.  

“You’re hurting me,” she whimpered, squirming pitifully under his tight hold.  There was no one around to hear the complaint, but Nina’s talent had always been talking her way out of a sticky situation.  All she had to do was make him lower his guard just a little, and then- 

“I’m not falling for that,” he argued instantly.  “You’re tougher than you look. I learned that the hard way last time.” 

Nina studied the stern, unwavering expression on the man’s face, and, upon realizing that she wouldn’t be able to talk her way out of this one, she dropped the injured look off her face.  “You’re right. I am.” 

She didn’t give him time to reply before she swung out with her left leg.  However, while she thought she’d had the advantage of surprise, she’d been terribly mistaken.  He read her movements before she’d even made them, and he shifted out of her reach.  Her kick landed uselessly against nothing but air, throwing her balance off.  He used her sudden, wavering moment against her and shoved her backward until her back slammed into the rough surface of the brick wall.  It wasn’t hard enough to deal real damage, but it was enough to make her wince.  She grappled against him, but the struggle was short lived.  In mere seconds, he’d braced one of his strong forearms across her chest, caging her firmly between the wall and his body.  Her legs were unencumbered, but he was too close for her to get any real leverage behind another kick.  

From this close, Nina had a clear, unobstructed view at his anger reddened face, peering down at her with flared nostrils and a jaw clenched so fiercely that Nina was sure it had to be painful.  It was his eyes, though, that Nina found herself unable to look away from.  Where the rest of his body screamed rage, his icy blue stare was pleading, desperate, plagued with nerves and… was that fear?  Against her better judgment, Nina found herself softening under that stare, her fighting limbs growing still. 

“You know,” she began, her voice light as she caught her breath from the struggle. “Usually I make men tell me their names before I let them pin me to a wall.” 

His lips twisted downward in a disgusted frown.  “Your mouth is foul.” 

“Oh, I know many men and women that would disagree with you on that.” 

“Shut up,” he shouted, exasperated.  “Give it back!” 

Nina blinked innocently up at him through her lashes. “Give what back?” 

The man nearly growled at that. “The wallet you took from me!  Give. It. Back!” 

Realistically, Nina knew that she should feel frightened by the giant of a man standing in front of her.  He was easily a full head taller than her, he was leveraging his full body weight against the arm holding her in place, and he was snarling angrily in her face as they stood alone on a completely deserted street.  And yet…intrigue was far more prominent in Nina’s mind than fear.  

He’d remembered her, which was an uncommon occurrence in a city as busy and crowded as Ketterdam.  Faces tended to get lost, people turned to smoke, details evaporated in an instant, but he’d remembered her.  Granted, it was because she’d stolen from him, but that line of thinking led Nina to wonder what the hell he was still doing in this city.  Most tourists that she - or, really, any of the Barrel rats - stole from counted their losses, tucked their tail between their legs, and left this city as soon as they were able to book a flight home.  They didn’t stick around after this city bit them.  This man, however, had, and it made Nina wonder what was keeping him here. 

“You’re Fjerdan, aren’t you?” she asked, lifting one of her brows in a challenge. 

In response, the man shook his head. Not in disagreement, but in disbelief.  “How do you know that?” 

“Well, for starters, you have that stupid accent,” Nina answered, causing his scowl to deepen and her amusement to grow.  “And you were loitering outside of that shitty Fjerdan restaurant last week.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with my accent,” he defended, and Nina grinned. 

“You’re right. There isn’t.”  She tipped her head to the side, examining his face carefully.  When he began to look uncomfortable under her sudden scrutiny, she asked, “Is it true that all Fjerdans are prudes?” 

The glare he cast at her was wicked.  “All you need to be worried about right now is putting that wallet back into my hands. Do you understand?” 

Nina understood perfectly well, but she’d never been one to give in that easily.  Besides, men were fun to rile, especially this one, and she was nowhere near finished.  

“I think it must be true,” Nina said, ignoring his statement altogether.  “After all, the only reason I was even able to slip your wallet out of your pocket was because you were so easy to distract.  All it took was a touch on the back, and you were defenseless.” 

“That isn’t true,” he sneered, his eyes now clouded with irritation and shame.  

To test the waters, Nina reached forward with one hand, just far enough to brush her fingertips against his waist.  He jumped violently at the touch, and Nina laughed triumphantly. 

“Oh, you’re going to be so fun,” she remarked, giggling in response to the glare he shot her.  

“There won’t be any fun,” he snapped, pressing forward with his weight until the increased pressure made Nina’s laugh falter.  “The minute I have my wallet back, you will never see me again, and I, thank Djel, will never have to see you again either.” 

“Well, that isn’t very nice,” Nina teased, and he huffed out a growl.  With a roll of her eyes, Nina added, “Just relax, would you?  I have-” 

“Relax?” he asked, seething.  His anger, it would seem, had reached the tipping point, and now he was falling headfirst over the edge, taking Nina down with him.  He leaned in close, his breath a rush of air against her skin as he spoke.  “You want me to relax while I’m standing here with some…some lying, thieving, degenerate seductress?  You are just like every other vile criminal in this godforsaken city.  All of you are a blight to this earth, so please, I’m begging, stop talking and give me back my things so that I can leave this place before you all take me down with you.” 

Nina’s amusement had slipped through her fingers like water as he’d spoken, and now she was left feeling wrung out and dry.  His words, though she’d never show it, hit her like a slap.  It was not the first time she’d had insults hurled at her, nor would it be the last, but there was something about the deep, hate-filled rage that had come over him that left the words stinging far longer than Nina was used to.  

Fine, she decided, swallowing roughly.  If he wants to play dirty, so can I. 

“I’ve been called many things, but I think ‘blight on the earth’ might be a new one. Congrats,” she said, her voice light despite the way her fingers curled into fists at her side.  “However, before you so rudely interrupted, I was going to offer to help you find it.” 

“Find it?” he asked, his brows knitting together. 

Nina tipped her chin up to meet his eyes. “Well, if we can.  Things come and go from pawn shops so quickly, you know?  It’s hard to say where it ended up.” 

“You sold it?” He asked, and if it weren’t for her own anger buzzing hotly in her veins, Nina might have noticed how his rage had been replaced with a cold, desperate fear.  “Why would you do that?” 

Nina shrugged. “It was real leather.” 

The man’s face twisted with an emotion akin to agony.  “You stupid, arrogant, treacherous-” 

“I get it,” Nina interrupted, suddenly bringing up both arms to shove him away.  He’d lightened his hold in his shock, and he hadn't expected the sudden burst of strength from Nina either.  He stumbled back just a step, and his arm fell away from her chest.  “I said I’d help you.  Should we go now, or do you need to reschedule?  You seem to think that you’re a very important man, so I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.” 

If he noticed the dig, he ignored it.  Instead, he worked his jaw, considering her.  Nina wondered what he saw when he looked at her, if it was anything like the monsters people expected from the Barrel, if it was worse.  

Finally, he nodded, though he didn’t seem pleased with his own decision.  

“Let’s go,” he said, turning to head back the way Nina had come.  She stood still, waiting, and after a few long moments, he reappeared around the corner with an exasperated expression.  “Why aren’t you moving?” 

Nina jerked her head the opposite direction.  “We need to go that way.” 

The Fjerdan refused to look at her as he set off in the direction she’d just indicated.  Nina followed, trying not to laugh as she watched him attempt to take the lead despite the fact that he had no idea where he was headed.  Still, Nina let him, calling out directions as he went.  She guided him to several shady pawn shops in the area and stifled laughs as the Fjerdan attempted to reason with the shop owners who were either annoyed at his insistence that they search for a leather wallet in their new acquisitions or amused by Nina’s attempted haggling for an object they didn’t have. 

And, as they walked, they talked.  Or, well, Nina talked.  Silence had never been a friend of hers, so she asked question after question, accepting whatever half-assed reply the Fjerdan came up with.  Only about half the time would he ignore her entirely, in which instances she’d simply keep going until he gave in and threw her a bone.  

Against every instinct her mind was attempting to scream at her, Nina realized that she … didn’t dislike the Fjerdan.  He was cold, crass, and generally unamused by her, but he gave her enough half-truths to keep her interested.  He was here studying, he’d said, and it had taken a few more minutes before he’d finally offered up ‘diplomacy’ as his topic of study.  Though, when Nina had asked, he’d admitted that he was learning under a private mentor, not the large university located on the outskirts of the city.  

As they left their fourth shop empty handed, she turned to him.  

“Nina,” she said simply, and his steps slowed a bit as he walked. 

“Hmm?” 

“My name,” she explained.  “I figured that if we’re traipsing through a dangerous city together, you might as well know it.” 

“I don’t care to know you,” he said, keeping his eyes forward.  

Nina ignored the bite of those words.  “What should I call you?” 

“Nothing,” he answered.  “I told you already. The minute I have my wallet, we will never see each other again.  Which way?” 

Nina glanced at the intersection thoughtfully.  “Go straight, then left at the next light.” 

The Fjerdan pressed on, and Nina fell into step behind him once more.  They didn’t stop until the night was growing heavy around them.  Nina’s stomach was growling, and the Fjerdan had begun to drag his feet dejectedly.  Nina’s amusement had begun to die off a half hour ago, and now all she felt was pity as she saw the pained, childlike emotion taking over the Fjerdan.  Her feet slowed to a stop, but he kept walking. 

“Fjerdan!” she called out, and he reluctantly turned back to her.  His face, which had been dark with his irritation and anger when they’d begun their journey, was now marked by a crestfallen expression.  Nina swallowed down her own lingering annoyance with him and offered, “Let’s call it a night.” 

He shook his head instantly. “I have to find my-” 

“Look, everything is going to start closing soon,” she explained.  She pointed to the street on their right. “I only live a couple blocks this way.  I’m thirsty, starving, and exhausted.  Let’s go rest up for a second, and then I’ll drive you back to wherever you’re staying.  

Suspicion made his eyes narrow.  “Why?” 

“Why what?” Nina asked, her exasperation growing again along with her exhaustion. 

“Why bother offering me any of that?  You don’t know me.” 

“No,” Nina admitted.  “But, despite the fact that you’re an asshole-” he frowned “-you seem harmless, though I know hearing that might bruise your ego.  Either way, I’m going back to my apartment.  You’re free to do whatever you’d like, I just thought I’d do the polite thing and extend the invitation.” 

She turned then, leaving her back to him as she blended into the dark Ketterdam shadows.  For a second, she thought he might walk the other way, which would probably be the best for both of them.  Instead, though, she heard the clunk of heavy shoes fall into step behind her, and she couldn’t fight off the small, satisfied smile that crept onto her lips.  

As soon as they were through the door of her apartment, Nina headed for the kitchen, leaving the Fjerdan behind her.  “Water?” 

He hesitated before answering, “Yeah, please.” 

So now he has manners, Nina thought, but she was too tired at this point to put up much of a fight.  Instead, she dutifully filled two glasses and carried them back to the living room, only to find the Fjerdan still lingering uncomfortably by the front door.  

Nina sat both glasses down onto the ornately decorated coffee table and ushered him over.  As the Fjerdan crossed the room, he took in the space with inquisitive eyes. Nina found herself wondering once again what he saw.  What did he think about the mismatched furniture she’d thrifted years ago?  Or the various houseplants - most of which she’d managed to keep alive - scattered around the room, or the cluttered array of candles and trinkets and haphazardly discarded jewelry on every flat surface in the apartment.  

He took a seat on the sunflower yellow couch, but his body language was rigid and anxious.  All of the dubious intent that Nina had held hours ago when she’d started their wild goose chase had disappeared, and she found that it was suddenly and unexpectedly replaced with nervous energy.  

“I don’t have much in the way of food,” she admitted, taking a step back towards the kitchen, “but I have some leftover pizza from last night.” 

“It’s fine,” he said, waving her off.  “I’m not hungry.” 

He seemed like a different person here, now.  Gone was the angry, arrogant man that had trapped her on the street.  Instead, the person she saw seated before her was confused, worried, … lost?  Nina couldn’t stop herself from once again softening in his presence when she knew, logically, that her walls should be rock solid right now. 

“We’ve been walking around the city for hours and you aren't hungry?” Nina asked skeptically.  

His only response was taking a long sip of water from his glass.  Nina snorted softly and returned to the kitchen.  She didn’t have the energy to bother with heating up the leftovers, so instead she settled for tossing the entire box of remaining pizza onto the coffee table.  She selected a cold slice, took a huge bite, and then leaned back against the couch cushions beside the Fjerdan with a contented sigh.  

The Fjerdan laughed, then, a sound that made Nina’s eyes go wide.  

“I didn’t even think you could laugh,” she teased once she’d finished chewing.  “What’s so funny?” 

“You’re different,” he answered with a shrug, his eyes on the coffee table instead of her.  

“Different than what?” 

“Than what I expected.” 

“Ahh,” Nina hummed.  “So, am I no longer…what was it that you called me?  A lying, thieving, degenerate seductress, was it?” 

“You may still be most of those things,” he mumbled lowly, reaching timidly to take a slice from the opened pizza box.  “However, you did help me look for my wallet.  So, perhaps we can take degenerate off the list, at least.” 

If Nina didn’t know better, she might think he sounded amused.  To distract herself, she took another bite.  She let the silence grow stagnant between them before asking, “What’s so special about this wallet anyway?” 

The Fjerdan sighed, and his shoulders slumped with sudden exhaustion.  “It has…sentimental value.” 

“A hunk of leather?” Nina asked, her brows raised. 

“No,” he shook his head. “The thing inside it.  There’s a little pocket sewed into the folds.  I keep a picture of my family there.  My real one, I mean…” Nina didn’t understand what he meant, but he continued before she could ask.  “It was the only photo I had left of them, and I kept it with me all the time just so I could…”  He paused, running a hand over his chin roughly.  “If I can’t find that wallet, I’ll…well, I don’t know what I’ll do.” 

Nina’s gut twisted at the unexpected sullen expression on the Fjerdan’s face.  She sat her slice of pizza down, all hints of hunger gone from her.  He picked up on her sudden shift in expression.  

“Everything okay?” 

“Mhm,” Nina lied, getting to her feet.  “Just…I’ll be back in a second.” 

Hours ago, when he’d hurled ugly word after ugly word at her, this prank had seemed harmless.  Funny, even.  Now, though, seeing the way his entire demeanor had changed when he’d talked about the photo, Nina knew she couldn’t go through with her original plan.  So, she escaped into her bedroom and plucked the thin brown leather wallet off the vanity, where it had stayed since the day she’d slipped it from the Fjerdan’s pocket.  

He was still eating when she walked back into the living room, but the minute his eyes dropped to her hand, he went completely still mid-chew.  Nina tried to read the expression on his face, but it was useless.  

Slowly, he lowered his pizza and dropped it back into the box, his gaze unwavering from the item in her hand.  Nina crossed the room again and took her previous seat.  

“Here,” she whispered, finding that her voice was suddenly gone.  The Fjerdan stared at the offered wallet in disbelieving silence.  When he lifted shaking fingers to take it from her, Nina felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over her.  

“I didn’t take anything,” she assured him as he took it.  

The Fjerdan hesitated, and when he spoke next, his voice was low and defeated.  “Did you just take this to prove that you could?” 

Nina swallowed. “No, it’s just…you didn’t have any cash.  It’s easier to get caught with cards.” 

“So you led me all across Ketterdam tonight for…what, exactly?” 

Nina scrunched up her nose. “Fun?”

“Fun?” he demanded, suddenly getting to his feet. “Nina, I thought that the last memory I had of my family was gone! I thought I’d never see their faces again!” 

If it weren’t for the fact that his voice was suddenly dripping with venomous betrayal, Nina might have marveled at the sound of her name on his tongue for the first time.  

“In my defense, you called me a degenerate.” 

“Well!” He argued, waving the wallet around as if that were proof of his point.  And, maybe, it was. 

“Listen, I’m sorry,” Nina insisted, standing up as well.  “I promise, if I’d known there was anything of real value in there, I wouldn’t have touched it.” 

The Fjerdan snorted. “Ah, now the thief is principled.” 

Nina’s eyes narrowed. “I know you aren’t from around here, but this is just how things are in this city.” 

“Cruel?” 

“Desperate,” Nina corrected.  “The people who live here - the people like me - are just doing whatever we can to stay alive.  Whether our survival lines up with your wonky moral compass is not my concern.” 

“You don’t need a moral compass to know that stealing is wrong.” 

“Says the man who’s never had to steal to eat.” 

The Fjerdan gestured to the fairly cluttered apartment around them.  “Doesn’t seem like you’re struggling to me.” 

“You don’t get to walk in here for five minutes and assume you know everything about me,” she snapped. “This is merely a second of my life. You can’t even begin to imagine the rest.  My world is far, far different from the one you grew up in, Fjerdan.” 

He looked away from her then, rolling his tongue over his teeth.  After a stretch of silence, he sighed, and Nina swore she could see his fight leave him as he said, “Matthias.” 

“Pardon?” 

“My name,” he added, mimicking her tone from earlier.  “Though, I’m shocked you didn’t already know it considering that you’ve had this for the past week.” 

Nina followed his movements as he waved his wallet weakly in front of him.  She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze, though she nearly shivered when the weight of that blue stare landed on her.  

“I told you,” she murmured, “I checked for cash, and then I sat it down. I haven’t even looked at it since.”  

Neither of them spoke for a long, heavy moment as the heat of rage fizzled out of the room.  Eventually, the Fjerdan - Matthias, Nina corrected herself - sank back onto the couch with a subdued sigh.  Nina stared at him, expecting him to catch a second wind and start the fight back up, but instead, he simply clutched the wallet firmly in one hand and reached for his discarded slice of pizza with the other. 

“You’re not mad at me?” she asked quietly. 

“I wish I was,” he answered honestly.  “Instead, all I can feel right now is… relief.  I really thought my family was gone forever, and it’s hard to be upset now that it’s back in my hands.” 

Nina was slower to lower herself back into her spot beside him, skeptical of the sudden peace that had fallen over the room.  “I guess the anger will come later, then.” 

With a resigned smirk, he remarked, “I’m sure it will.” 

Chapter Text

Kaz breathed a sigh of relief when he entered his apartment and found that it was just as dark and quiet as it had been when he'd left.  Though, the silence wasn't nearly as comforting as it had once been after the surprise visit from The Wraith the night before.  Something about her unexpected presence had left him feeling shaken and on edge ever since, so, despite the fact that the air was still, Kaz pulled out his gun before he ever sat down his keys.  He crept slowly, carefully, through the darkened apartment, half expecting her ghostly form to pop out around a corner and end him right then and there.  By the time he'd made it to the bedroom, though, he found that he was still alone.  He checked the closet for good measure and, feeling satisfied that the apartment was empty, tossed his keys onto the nightstand and slipped his gun back into his waistband. 

Before leaving the bedroom, though, Kaz gave the window a few experimental jiggles.  The metal lock he'd installed only an hour prior seemed to be perfectly in place, so Kaz gave the window one last shake before heading back toward the living room, flicking on the light once he'd arrived back at the entryway. 

Silence was a short-lived thing in The Barrel, as was peace, both facts that were proven only a few moments later when Kaz's front door swung open, slamming violently against the thin wall behind it.  Kaz, who'd just placed an unlit cigarette between his lips, cast the intruder a cursory glance, though he didn't need to look up to know who was stomping towards him.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Nina shouted.  When he raised a single eyebrow at her in question, she ripped the cigarette from his lips, tore it in half, and threw it onto the ground with a frustrated scoff.

"I was thinking that I could really use a smoke," Kaz answered, eyeing the two halves of his lost cigarette where they'd settled on the carpet.  "But I'm going to assume that you're talking about Matthias?"

Nina gave an overly exaggerated roll of her eyes - an expression that she was famous for, especially when it came to Kaz - and huffed. "No, Kaz.  I actually meant the other terrible decision you've made recently."

"Believe it or not, there are quite a few I'm questioning at the moment," Kaz replied, tugging his pack out of his back pocket again.  He shook a new cigarette into his hand. "Matthias, however, is not one of them. I need him for this job."

"There are dozens of bruisers within the Dregs," argued Nina.  "You could have chosen any of them, and instead you just had to fly in the only one who has the power to turn my life into a living hell for the foreseeable future?"

Kaz shrugged.  "I need this bruiser for this job.  It isn't personal." 

"God, you're infuriating.  You didn't even have the forethought to warn me?"

"If I'd warned you, would that make it okay that he's here?"

"Of course not, I'd have-"

"Then that's why I didn't tell you." 

A flash of movement over Nina's head caught Kaz's attention, and he lifted his gaze to find Jesper - with Wylan tucked sheepishly behind him - lingering in the open doorway. 

"We miss anything?" Jesper asked, flicking a questioning look between Kaz and Nina. Before either could answer, he strolled into the room and flopped down onto the end of the couch with far more comfortability than Kaz wished to see another person have in his home. 

A new form appeared in the doorway, then, scooting past where Wylan still hesitated near the entrance.  Nina gestured toward the brooding Fjerdan in annoyance.  "Yeah, Jes.  That."

Jesper twisted his head to see the door, and the moment that his eyes landed on Matthias's bulky form, a devious smile slowly crept onto his face. "Oh, this should be fun."

The glare Nina cut at him was sharp as a blade, but Jesper had years of experience dodging that look.  Thankfully, Nina had now set her sights on a new target. 

"You didn't die," she remarked thoughtfully, eyes on Wylan. 

The boy glanced nervously at Jesper, who was of no help to him, and then shifted his gaze back to Nina. "No?"

"Good.  I was going to be pissed if I struggled dragging you up all of those stairs only for you to die in Jesper's messy apartment."  Nina turned toward Jesper, then, and asked in a whisper that was not at all conspiratorial.  "Why is he still here?"

"Wylan here has decided he wanted to trade out his plush, rich-boy lifestyle for a taste of The Dregs," Jesper offered, meeting Nina's disbelieving look with a tired one of his own. 

"Is that a joke?"

Jesper snorted. "Unfortunately not."

Nina spun on Kaz, her forehead wrinkled with her confusion.  "You okayed this?"

"Not yet," Kaz answered, finally lighting his cigarette.  "Depends entirely on how tonight's collection run went."  

He turned his expectant gaze to Jesper.  Needing no further prompting, Jesper sat up and fished a few wads of cash from within his coat.  With a quiet thud, they fell onto the coffee table.

"Tim still wouldn't cough it up?" Kaz asked, able to tell that the pile was light even from this distance. 

Instead of answering, however, Jesper turned to Wylan.  "Go on, then."

Wylan was seemingly expecting the cue, and he didn't miss a beat before stepping up to the coffee table and beginning to upturn his pockets.  Stack after stack of bound bills spilled from his hands, landing on the table with a repeated thunk, thunk, thunk.  As the pile grew, so did the interest from the others. 

Once it finally seemed that Wylan's pockets were empty, Jesper cleared his throat.  "Exactly how much did you take from the safe?"

Wylan lifted one shoulder in a half-assed shrug.  "All of it?"

Nina barked out a sudden, surprised laugh, and Jesper’s wicked grin returned. Before either of them could dive in with their impressed approval, though, Kaz spoke up. 

“Jesper’s been working Tim for a while now,” he said, causing all four heads in the room to spin in his direction.  He took a long drag from his cigarette before asking, “What made tonight different?”

Jesper cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well, he-”

"I'm asking him," Kaz clarified sharply, his gaze never wavering from Wylan.  To his credit, the young newcomer did not falter under the hard stare.  Instead, he seemed to pull himself taller, roll his shoulders back, and steady his feet underneath himself like he was bracing for impact. 

"Tonight was different because Jesper had back up," Wylan offered weakly.  For all his efforts in making himself appear unshakable, his voice was still hesitant.  It was as if he worried that each word out of his mouth might be the wrong one, and that each wrong word would act as a chain around his neck. 

Kaz took another long, slow hit, letting the uneasy silence settle in the room.  Finally, he said, "Jesper doesn't need back up."

"Aw, boss," Jesper remarked from the couch, but a cool look from Kaz cut off the rest of his praise-driven outburst. 

"Try again,” Kaz instructed calmly, turning his steady gaze back to Wylan.  “What made tonight different?”

Kaz knew that Wylan was young.  Maybe not that much younger than himself in terms of years, so to speak, but in terms of life experience, he still held that same wide–eyed wonder that Kaz had once beaten out of himself.  Uneasy, Wylan cast a look toward Jesper.  The glance only lingered for a moment, but it was long enough for Wylan to search Jesper’s face as if it held all the answers he needed to survive this inquisition.  Despite the fact that Jesper hadn’t even acknowledged the attention, Wylan turned back to Kaz with an expression that had turned suddenly rock solid. When he spoke next, his voice was sturdy and clear.

“Tim pulled a gun.  I convinced him that he was outnumbered, and that if he hurt Jesper, I’d hurt him.”

“Hurt?”

Without missing a beat, Wylan corrected. “Kill.”

“And would you?” Kaz asked, a cloud of smoke billowing past his lips on his exhale. 

“I didn’t have to,” Wylan answered simply, expertly dodging the question like it was a bullet. 

Kaz lifted a brow, almost amused at the attempt. “And if you had?”

Wylan swallowed, but did not look away.  “I will do whatever I have to do.” 

For whatever reason, Kaz found that he believed the words.  There was a steadiness in Wylan’s expression that Kaz recognized.  As young as he may be, as new to this world as he was, Wylan was prepared to claw his way out of whatever hole he’d dug himself into, unbothered by the harm he might cause himself in the process.  It was a sentiment that was a little too close to home, if Kaz were being honest with himself.

However, while Kaz might believe Wylan's words, he was not ready to give in to him completely just yet.  Noncommittally, he offered, "Decent work...for now."

As Wylan visibly deflated at what was barely approval, Kaz took another long drag and turned to flick the growing ash from his cigarette into the ashtray hidden on the TV stand.  The sound of a gasp, however, brought his attention back to the others quickly, and it took him less than a second to identify the reason for the sudden shock on their faces.

The Wraith stood at the mouth of the hallway like a dark, sinister statue.  She looked as she had every other time Kaz had laid eyes on her - dressed head to toe in black, a hood pulled over her head to shade the upper half of her face, her form sharp and rigid. A long, thick braid fell over her shoulder, and Kaz idly realized that it was a new sight considering that both times he’d seen her before, her hair had been tucked away tidily and hidden from his view. 

Irritation made his mouth turn positively sour at the sight of her.

“I’m sorry,” Nina began, widened eyes staring at the wisp of a girl half hidden by the darkness of the hall.  “Did a girl just come out of Kaz Brekker’s bedroom?”

Reluctantly, Kaz turned away from The Wraith, but the cutting glare he'd aimed for Nina fell flat when Kaz realized her sights were not set on him, but on Jesper.  From his spot on the couch, Jesper tipped his head back with a groan, tugged his wallet from his back pocket, and less-than-discreetly passed a folded $20 into Nina's outstretched hand.

Kaz's temper flared at the assumption.  If only they knew how much effort he'd put into keeping her out of his apartment, how much her presence set his feet teetering on the edge, how his annoyance was now pumping hotly through his veins.

But anger was an emotion of weakness, so he schooled it away as best he could and slipped his gaze back to The Wraith.  "I thought I told you to use the door this time."

The Wraith shrugged, and Kaz's hands curled into fists at his side.  Maybe it wasn't so much the fact that she'd invaded his life so suddenly, but the ease and nonchalance with which she did it. 

"The window is really more my style," she offered as a way of explanation.  Her voice was soft and light, a gentleness completely at war with the harsh tenseness emanating from her form.  In her hand, she clutched something that Kaz couldn't identify, but when she saw him eyeing it, she lifted her hand and tossed the object in his direction.  He caught it with ease, and as he uncurled his fingers, his stomach twisted uneasily at the sight of the ruined remnants of the metal window lock.

"Those locks are easy to pick," she explained, leaning casually against the corner of the wall and crossing her arms over her chest.  "Easy enough for a ghost to figure out."

The words felt like a challenge, but before Kaz could snap back his response, Jesper cleared his throat.  "Kaz?  Care to introduce us to your little friend?"

"She is not a friend," Kaz defended instantly, though he wasn't sure why his own words suddenly felt heated.  He paused long enough to flick the ash from the growing end of his cigarette and take another drag before instructing, "Everyone take a seat so we can start."

Strangely enough, Matthias was the first to move, claiming the single armchair as his own personal island away from the rest of the Dregs.  He had yet to complain - to Kaz, at least...he was sure Nina had already received an earful in the car - but his unease was clearly building beneath his skin.  Matthias was antsy, and he needed answers.  Why was he here, why was this all so sudden, why was he specifically necessary for this mission instead of literally anyone else?  They were all questions that would be answered in due time, though he might not like any of the answers once he’d gotten them.

Nina took her place on the other side of the couch, as far away from Matthias as she could get, and that left Wylan to hesitantly settle into the narrow space between her and Jesper.  The Wraith did not move, but Kaz hadn’t really expected her to.  Instead, she stood perfectly still in the mouth of the hallway, the shadows behind her creeping around her statuesque form as if they might wrap around her limbs and pull her back at any second.  As Kaz ground out what was left of his cigarette, he couldn’t help the way his eyes trailed back to her. 

She was nothing but dark shadows and sharp edges, the latter of which was fitting considering the multiple blade handles Kaz could spot strapped against her torso and hips.  While the top half of her face was still obscured by her hood, it did nothing to hide the line of smooth bronze skin along her jaw or the full set of her lips.

Her head snapped towards him suddenly, as if she’d sensed his eyes roaming over her, so he turned away instantly.

“This,” he began, jerking his head in her direction without daring to look at her, “is The Wraith.”

From the couch, Nina’s eyes grew wide and eager. “No fucking way. I thought you were a myth!”

“Clearly not,” The Wraith mused.  There was a barely there cocky edge in his voice that made Kaz’s irritation flare again. 

“Why didn’t you tell us you knew The Wraith?” Jesper accused sulkily.

In a bored tone, Kaz answered, “This is a new business partnership.”

“Business?” Jesper asked, his brows pulled together skeptically.

Kaz braced himself before replying, “I had her look into Haskell.  She-”

“Jesus Christ, Kaz,” Jesper intervened with a groan of disapproval.  “You have to let this Haskell shit go.”

Kaz had been expecting that reaction, but it didn’t stop him from clenching his jaw so hard that it ached.  “Just because you can’t see what’s happening right in front of your eyes doesn’t mean I need to be just as blind.”

“I’m not blind, Kaz.  I just think you’re getting a little too deep into the conspiracy theory at this point,” Jesper argued, though he kept his voice calm and light. It made Kaz’s lips curl in distaste.  Jesper’s placating tone was the last thing he needed right now.  “If Haskell finds out you’ve been poking around where you don’t belong, shit could go sideways real fast.  You’d be a lot better off remembering your place in the food chain before you end up with a fucking bullet in your head.”

Kaz ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek as he mulled over Jesper’s words.  “Consider this a disruption in the food chain, then.”

Jesper rolled his eyes. “And what do you plan to do when-”

“Also consider this your formal warning to keep your mouth shut until your opinion is requested.”

Jesper had been with Kaz far longer than the others, which meant he was able to read the warning in Kaz’s voice instantly.  His lips clamped shut, and though he looked about as irritated and exasperated as Kaz felt, he kept silent. 

Jesper and Nina had both made it very clear in the past few weeks that Kaz was alone in this crusade against Haskell.  In their minds, Kaz was pushing against limits that didn’t seem bendable.  He was stretching the patience of an old man well known for his violence in this city, and in their minds, Kaz was only inviting problems onto himself and, by proxy, them.  They were content to just keep their heads down, get their jobs done, and wait for the old man to lay down and die on his own time.  Then, they’d promised Kaz again and again, he could take his place at the head of The Dregs.

But Kaz Brekker had never been one for waiting.

“I had The Wraith look into Haskell,” Kaz repeated.  This time, no one interrupted.  “And she found something.”

From his pocket, Kaz produced a stack of photos that The Wraith had given him the night before. The dull thuds of his cane against the carpet were the only sounds in the room as Kaz approached the coffee table.  He gestured towards the disorderly pile of cash in the center with clear annoyance, and Jesper immediately moved to tidy the mess into neat stacks.  As he did, Kaz began to spread the photos out onto the table.  The other Dregs leaned forward to get a better look once Kaz finally stepped away. 

“Are these letters?” Nina asked, lifting one of the photographs.  She brought it close to her face and squinted. “I don’t recognize this language.”

“No one does,” Kaz answered simply.  “It’s not foreign; it’s code.”

Nina raised a brow at him. “So you gathered all of us here in order to look at a bunch of letters none of us can even read?”

“We can’t read those,” Kaz specified, tugging a second, smaller stack of photos from his jacket pocket.  He offered them to Matthias. “Confirm my suspicions, would you?”

Matthias was scowling, but then again he’d been scowling since the moment he’d walked into the room.  In fact, Nina would argue that he’d been scowling like that since birth.  However, his expression quickly shifted from one of irritation to one of confusion as he took the photos from Kaz.  “Fjerdan?”

Kaz answered with a small nod. “Can you translate?”

“You flew me halfway across the globe to translate?”

“No,” Kaz replied coolly. “I brought you here to pay back Brum’s debt and not ask stupid questions.”

Matthias glared, but he didn’t try to argue again as he turned his attention back toward the photos.  His lips moved silently as he read, and after a few long moments, he said, “This one is an old Fjerdan proverb.  It loosely translates to ‘the road to righteousness is a dangerous one, may Djel keep you safe’.”

“Poetic,” Nina mused, and Matthias sent a sinister look her way. 

“Just because your land is godless does not mean mine follows the same heathenism.”

“Ah, heathen,” Nina cooed. “That’s a new one, Matthias.  Your vocabulary is improving.”

“What about the others?” Kaz prompted before Matthias could offer up whatever angry retort was darkening his expression.  If he let the two of them get started on this, they’d never finish this meeting. 

After a few more minutes of glaring at the photographs in his hand, Matthias replied, “They’re all fairly similar.  This one says ‘redemption is a steep slope, do not misstep.’  This one…I don’t know the direct translation, but it’s something like ‘all acts done in the name of Djel are holy in his eyes’. This last one just says ‘darkness…consumes’?  Where did you say these were found?”

“Haskell’s office. Why?”

Matthias shook his head.  “These aren’t exactly common sayings.  They’re more like…parables.  Stories told to scare Fjerdan children onto the right path.”

Jesper, who’d been in the middle of inspecting one of the coded letters from the table, looked up.  “Does Haskell have any contacts in Fjerda?”

“Not that I was aware of,” Kaz said, unease settling in his bones.  Every day, it felt like there was less and less that he was aware of, despite his efforts to stay in the know. It was like his power and control were slipping away from him day by day, minute by minute, second by second.  The harder he tried to hold on, the faster it escaped him.

He’d never go quite as far as saying he liked Haskell.  That simply was not and would never be true.  He did, however, respect the man. Or, at least, he had.  He’d been twelve when Haskell had first decided to take a chance on him.  Though, it had taken Kaz stabbing a man twice his age and size in order to garner the old man’s attention.  Back then, it had felt like Haskell’s interest would be an easy thing to keep.  After all, Kaz played the role of an obedient follower far better than even he could have hoped. 

By sixteen, he was officially Haskell’s right hand man, much to the disappointment of the older Dregs members who’d been waiting for their turn in the spotlight.  The other gang leaders used to scoff when Haskell strolled into their meetings accompanied by the scrawny kid with violence in his eyes.  It had only taken a few stray bullets that had just barely missed their mark to silence the teasing from the rest of the Barrel leaders.  And, while they might not have treated Kaz as an equal back then, they grew wise enough to keep their mouths shut in his presence.

By nineteen, Kaz had taken over nearly all of the business handlings for The Dregs.  He balanced the books, scheduled the meetings, brokered the deals, brought in piles and piles of income, and yet…by twenty-two, he was being blocked out entirely.  Every question asked was answered with a door slamming in his face.  Every sealed deal was met with nothing more than a sideways, unimpressed glance.  Every reported investment was ignored or mocked. 

He’d poured more of himself into this city and The Dregs than he had to offer most days, and, as time went on, he felt more and more like there was absolutely nothing left to show for it. 

“Do we know what this symbol means?” Nina asked, snapping Kaz out of his own mind.  He glanced up and found her holding out one of the photos, her thumb pressed flat beside the red flower that repeated on each and every letter. 

Wylan – who’d only been in this new world for a whopping two days - gave the photograph a polite once over, then shook his head and leaned out of the way for Jesper to see.

Jesper made a displeased face. “Don’t recognize it.”

“Neither did I,” Kaz admitted, “and yet it pops up over and over in these photos.”

“Could it be a signature of some kind?” Nina suggested. 

Kaz nodded once. “Could be.  However, we’ll have to crack this case later on.  We have a more pressing concern here at the moment.”

Nina dropped the photo she was holding and sighed. “Alright, then. What is it?”

“There is one letter,” Kaz began, plucking the photo of it from the mess on the table so that he could lay it front and center.  Nina and Jesper both leaned forward, squishing Wylan between them, and even Matthias lifted his chin in an effort to see it better. “That lists a series of numbers.”

After a few long moments of waiting for the crew to put two and two together, Nina’s brows crunched together as she guessed, “Tomorrow’s date?”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“Or,” Jesper countered, “it could be nothing?”

“Haskell has a secret drawer full of coded letters, one of which includes tomorrow’s date, and you think that means nothing?”

“Might include tomorrow’s date,” Jesper corrected.  “Besides, maybe they’re letters from a sweetheart he has hidden away somewhere.”

“Haskell has never been one to keep quiet about his exploits,” Kaz pressed. “There would be no reason for him to need letters written in code and stored in a locked, hidden compartment in his home office. Something about this isn’t right.”

“You know I hate to agree with you,” Nina intervened, “but I think you’re right.  Something about all of this is…strange, at the very least.”

Jesper sighed, the sound at once reluctant and resigned. “Yeah. It’s weird; I’ll give you that.”

Though he’d never admit it, a weight in Kaz’s chest lifted with the realization that they saw it too.  Finally. After he’d been feeling the slow, creeping shift in his world for months, they were finally starting to feel the tilt as well. 

“Until we can decode those letters, we won’t know exactly what Haskell is up to, but we can at least try to get a head start tomorrow and hope we get lucky.”

There was silence as the room considered their options.  They could back Kaz and risk angering Haskell, or they could back Haskell and risk angering Kaz.  Thankfully, when Jesper spoke next, it seemed that they’d be making the correct choice.

“What’s the plan, then, boss?” Jesper asked, leaning back casually.  He slung an arm across the back of the couch, making Wylan shift nervously.  The intrigued twist at the corners of Jesper’s lips said it was intentional. 

“Haskell is far too lazy to travel, so whoever or whatever is happening tomorrow will have to come to him.  Which means that we will all be spending the entire day staking out his frequent locations to keep an eye on anyone or anything suspicious.”

Jesper tipped his head back and groaned. “I hate stake-outs.”

Kaz was not surprised.  Jesper had always voiced how dull he found the process of sitting and watching. He’d rather be where the action is, guns in hand, grin on his face. 

“Hopefully, this one will be a bit more entertaining for you than usual,” Kaz said, leveling a knowing look at his oldest partner in crime.  “You and Wylan will take The Slat.”

Beside Jesper, Wylan perked up and sat forward. “Does that mean I’m in?”

His eagerness made Kaz’s eyes narrow.  “Tentatively.”

Wylan nodded once, feigning nonchalance.  However, when he leaned back into his seat, Jesper nudged his shoulder lightly in encouragement, and the boy couldn’t hide the tiny relieved smile that made its way onto his face. Kaz wondered how long his excitement to be a part of their world would last.

“Nina and Matthias will-”

“Nina and Matthias will not be going anywhere together,” Nina broke in, supplying the rest of the sentence with a sharp, cutting voice.

“Seconded,” Matthias replied, and Nina rolled her eyes at the support.

“I don’t need your help.”

“I didn’t say you did.”

“You implied-”

“Fine,” Kaz interrupted, wondering if perhaps he should rethink his decision to pull Matthias in on this.  “Matthias and I will take Haskell’s house.  Nina, you’ll keep an eye on The Crow Club with The Wraith.”

Nina lifted a curious brow. “She’s a part of this now, too?”

“Provided she’s still interested after meeting all of you,” he replied.  He turned to face her then, and though she hadn’t moved a single inch since the conversation had begun, Kaz had felt her eyes boring into him since the moment he’d turned away.

Kaz was used to having eyes on him.  A person didn’t craft myths and legends about themselves in order to be ignored.  Her eyes, however, were an unfamiliar weight.  She didn’t admire him with the same unusual mixture of fear and respect that the rest of the Barrel did.  Instead, her stare was a challenge, like she was waiting for him to slip, for the mask to fall, for the legend to crack. 

Kaz kept his face carefully blank when he met her stare, though he still couldn’t quite see her eyes beneath the shadow of her hood.  “Do we have a deal?”

Silence ebbed through the room until, finally, The Wraith dipped her chin once.  “We have a deal.”

Kaz said nothing to acknowledge her words as he turned back to face the others. While part of him was relieved – The Wraith was a powerful asset to have in their arsenal – the rest of him was still uneasy in her presence, though he wasn’t yet sure why.  Maybe it was the way she moved like air itself, silent and unseen.  Maybe it was the way she watched him like she wished to pick him apart piece by piece with her eyes alone.  Maybe it was the way she lingered in the mouth of the hall, distanced away from the others as if anticipating the need for a quick escape. 

Whatever it was, Kaz shook it off for the time being.  To the others, he said, “We’ll start at sunrise. Haskell won’t get up any earlier than that even if his life depended on it.  Keep your eyes open for anyone entering or leaving that doesn’t look familiar – possibly Fjerdan,” Kaz added, nodding towards the pictures Matthias had just laid down.  “Lie low as best you can. We can’t afford one of Haskell’s watch dogs catching whiff of this.  Keep your head down and your cards to your chest for now.  Clear?”

Four heads bobbed in agreement, each with various levels of enthusiasm.  The Wraith, however, continued to simply watch him.  It made his skin crawl and his irritation bubble.

“Matthias, you have a room under your name at the hotel down the street.  I assumed you wouldn’t want to stay here again?”

The look the Fjerdan cut him was deadly.  “No, I would not.”

“Figured,” Kaz sighed. “I still need you close by, though, so keep your phone on and don’t wander.  If you ask nicely, maybe Nina will give you a ride.”

Both of Nina’s hands rose, middle fingers up, and Matthias ground his teeth at both her and Kaz.

“I’ll walk,” he announced as he stood.  He slung a duffle bag over his shoulder and turned to Kaz. “Are we done here?”

“Sure,” Kaz answered, and Matthias headed for the door without another word.  The door slammed behind him, hard enough to shake the thin walls, and then Nina’s scathing glare was on Kaz again.  Though, it was nothing compared to the weight of the watchful eyes behind him.

“Now are we regretting our decisions?”

“Me?” Kaz asked. “Why? I’m having a great time.”

Nina rolled her eyes and shoved off the couch.  “You’re an ass, Brekker.”

If there were a contest of strength when it came to slamming Kaz’s front door, Nina would have won by a long shot.  The sound was echoed a moment later by the slam of her own door down the hall.  It was then that Jesper stood, shaking his head.

“She’s right, you know?”

“Noted,” Kaz replied, fishing his pack of cigarettes from his back pocket again.  “Now, take Wylan and go.”

“Take him where?”

Kaz stared at Jesper blankly as he lit his cigarette. “Down the hall?”

“I thought new recruits stayed at The Slat?”

“The ones approved by Haskell do,” Kaz acknowledged.  “However, Haskell still currently has no idea Wylan exists, and I’d like to keep it that way for a little while longer.  Besides, you bring in the stray, you take care of it.”

Wylan frowned at that, but said nothing.  In fact, he didn’t say a word when Jesper summoned him and headed toward the door. Jesper paused before stepping out into the hall to cast a glance at Kaz over his shoulder. 

“Remember – thin walls.”

Kaz took a drag before responding, “Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

Jesper grinned at his successful attempt at getting beneath Kaz’s skin, then escaped quickly out into the hall, Wylan at his heels.  This time, thankfully, the door shut gently.  However, that meant there was nothing but an uncomfortable quiet that filled the apartment for several long moments as Kaz waited for The Wraith to speak. When she finally did, though, Kaz found he suddenly wished she hadn’t.

“Do you get off on telling people what to do?”

Kaz shut his eyes, grateful his back was still to her so she couldn’t read the tense set of his jaw.  He took another long drag and exhaled slowly before turning to face her again. 

“Did you come through the window just to prove a point?” He asked, ignoring her question.  “Or to make absolutely sure you’d have a quick escape route if you needed one?”

The Wraith hesitated.  Not long enough for most people to notice, but Kaz had.  “Is ‘because I just wanted to’ not a viable option?”

“Not when you’ve spent the entire time here itching to get back to the exit,” he answered, and her feet stilled.  She’d been subconsciously inching backwards down the darkened hall, and at Kaz’s words, she hesitated once more. Kaz nearly smiled at the realization that he might be getting somewhere, so he pressed, “Who is it you’re running from?”

The Wraith turned sharply. “We’re done here.”

She disappeared into the darkness of the hall, and Kaz muttered a curse under his breath before he set off after her.  He tossed his still lit cigarette into the nearest ashtray as he went, and as he stepped into the bedroom illuminated by silver moonlight, he found The Wraith braced at the window, one leg already swung over the windowsill. 

In any other situation, Kaz would never have done what he did.  However, he’d been stewing in his irritation for too long, uncomfortable and on edge under her watchful gaze, and now he needed answers from her – if for no other reason than to feel in control again. 

So, when The Wraith moved to slide the rest of her body out of the window, Kaz reached forward to grab her shoulder with his free hand.  His terrible mistake was made immediately obvious to him.  Within a breath, The Wraith had pulled herself back into the bedroom and shoved him far more violently than he’d have imagined her thin limbs capable of.  He stumbled backward in the narrow room, bumping into the wall opposite him, but before he could steady himself with his cane, he felt the sharp pinprick of a blade pressed against his throat, just beneath his Adam’s apple.

“Touch me again and you will choke on your own blood.”

Long gone was the soft tone she’d used when she’d entered the apartment, teasing Kaz with the broken lock.  In its place was a snarled voice, and, in the rush of motion, her hood had fallen back.  It was the first time Kaz had found himself able to see her face without the shadow of her hood, and it was all smooth, dark skin, viciously curled lips, and dangerous eyes.

Kaz scanned her face carefully, studying her the way she’d been studying him earlier.  It was her eyes, though, that kept drawing him back.  Beneath the violence there, Kaz saw fear.  It was not the type of fright he typically saw in The Barrel – a momentary starburst of unease that would dissipate once the threat was gone.  No, there in those dark eyes was a horror that settled bone deep, one that had been with her long enough that her hands no longer shook and her voice no longer quivered. 

Staring down at her, Kaz asked, “Who made you so afraid?”

“Fuck you,” she snapped, voice dripping with venom as she worked her jaw. 

“Is it the person you want me to help you kill when this is all over?” he pressed, suppressing a hissed breath when the blade bit deeper into his skin.  “Who are they?”

“I want to make one thing abundantly clear,” she seethed.  “I owe you nothing, especially not answers.”

“How can you expect me to trust you when you’re hiding something?”

“I told you already,” she began, shoving away from him.  He stayed perfectly still even without the threat of the knife at his throat.  “Don’t trust me.”

She backed toward the window, and was nearly halfway out of it again before Kaz spoke.  “If you still want my help when this is all over, you’ll have to tell me eventually.”

The Wraith paused, braced on the edge of the windowsill.  She glanced over her shoulder to meet Kaz’s eye, and fire was burning in her gaze.  “I encourage you, Mr. Brekker, to remember that I specialize in digging up secrets.  Perhaps you should consider what things I might be able to discover about your past before you go demanding answers about mine.”

And then she dropped. In the few seconds it took Kaz to cross the room, she was gone, disappearing into the air like smoke.  With a quiet, annoyed curse, Kaz shut the window and turned his back on thoughts of The Wraith for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

Nightmares had been an unwanted plague on Wylan’s life for as far back as he could remember.  As a child, they’d been intense enough to drag him awake, leaving flashes of the monsters his head had conjured to float around in his line of sight for several long, breathless minutes until his mother had come for him and shooed them away.  As he grew older, she stopped coming to check on his shouts (though, Wylan now knew that it was not by choice) so he learned how to breathe deep and slow and banish the visions on his own, though it took him far longer than it had ever taken her to make the room feel safe again. 

By the time he was a teenager, his mother was gone.  It hadn’t stopped the nightmares, though, the flashes of fiction and reality mixing in his own subconscious until they were so thoroughly combined that Wylan struggled to recall which were creations of his own mind and which were memories. He’d long since quit vocalizing his fear when these dreams overtook him.  His father had made sure that Wylan understood exactly how inconvenient it was for an important man like him to be woken in the middle of the night to a startled yell, and Wylan wondered idly as his father had dished out the punishment if he knew he were only adding more fodder to the fire inside Wylan’s mind.  

His body, however, did not comply as easily as his voice had, and it became a common occurrence for Wylan to wake as his adrenaline filled body slammed into the floor beside his bed or his nails dug into his skin so hard he spilled blood onto the crisp, clean sheets.  

This is just a dream , Wylan reminded himself, staring up at the familiar rage-filled face.  He knew by the dreary fog that surrounded him that this was not reality, and yet that knowledge did nothing to stop the growing fear as the familiar man’s hand snapped out.  

The sudden pressure around Wylan’s throat was more recollection than fabrication, and animalistic fright made his body go cold and numb.  

“Pathetic ,” a voice that was at once both his father’s and someone else’s purred, a low hum that sounded distant even though Wylan could see the lips in front of him moving.  

 As Wylan’s own hands came up to grapple with the arm holding him in place, Wylan tried to form a word - he wasn’t sure if it was stop or please or don’t or, if in his dream state, he might be brave enough to try all three - but the hand tightened before he could get it out.  The strength of the fingers wrapped around his narrow throat felt unhuman, strong enough to snap the fragile bones there if only his father would twist his wrist just right. 

The thing about dreams, though, is that they don’t follow the same laws as reality.  So, when Wylan felt so lightheaded and breathless that he was sure he’d pass out, he simply…didn’t.  Instead, his body continued to struggle for air, his fingernails dragged long, bloody lines down the wrist attached to his throat until he was certain there was far less skin left than slippery, exposed muscle, and his veins pumped heavily with an icy fear that left him feeling like there were tiny fires blooming over his skin.  

Wylan had just begun to accept that this would be his fate, stuck in this false reality with no air and no words, when a gentle hand fell onto his shoulder.  

He couldn’t turn his head, the hold on him was too firm, but he heard his mother’s voice as if she were speaking to him from the other end of a long tunnel.  

“Wake up,” she said, her voice a breath, barely recognizable with the distance and the antiquity of Wylan’s memory of her.  

Wylan could only shake his head.  He was trying, couldn’t she tell?  He wanted to leave, but his father wouldn’t let him.  

The hand on his shoulder turned unexpectedly rough, and when a voice spoke again, it was decidedly not his mother’s.  “ Wake up!” 

Wylan shot backwards, the hand fell away from his throat, and he sat up with a violent gasp.  The world was unsturdy beneath him, and his arms flailed wildly in search of something to steady himself.  

His right fist connected with something warm and solid. 

“Ah, fuck,” a low, husky voice complained, and then a rough hand grabbed Wylan’s wrist before the rogue limb could lash out again.

 The pinch of the grip was enough to keep Wylan from feeling like he was free falling anymore, and the rigidness in his body slowly began to relax.  A light flicked on while he fought to find his breath again, and Wylan squinted at the sudden onslaught of brightness.  It took his brain another couple of seconds to clear out the clutter in his head and recognize the body leaning over him as Jesper. 

“Sorry,” Wylan finally managed, his voice sounding as broken and raw as it would have had his dream been real.  He cleared his throat roughly before trying again. “Bad dream.” 

“You get those often?” Jesper asked, voice filled with concern as he finally dropped Wylan’s wrist.  Wylan let his hand fall limply into his own lap. 

“Sometimes,” Wylan admitted weakly. “It’s worse when I’m stressed.  Did I wake you?” 

Wylan worried that while he’d been voiceless in his dreams, the real world might not have abided by the same rules.  Thankfully, though, Jesper shook his head.  “I was coming to wake you. We need to get moving if we want to get to our location by sunrise.” 

With a barely suppressed groan, Wylan fell back against the couch cushions once more, scrubbing the heels of his hands across his eyes.  He felt like he’d just fallen asleep mere minutes ago, and his nightmares always left him feeling impossibly exhausted.  

“Go shower,” Jesper suggested, his worry still evident on his face even if the tense set of his shoulders had softened. “I’ll make coffee.” 

Wylan was reluctant, still trapped in the dark web of his dream, but he managed a small nod and began to untangle himself from the blankets.  Jesper watched him nervously for only another moment or two before he turned sharply and headed to the kitchen.  

It wasn’t until Wylan was finally up and busy shuffling his way halfway down the narrow hall when he heard Jesper call after him, “Tell me if the clothes don’t fit.” 

Wylan’s brows drew together in confusion for only a few moments longer before he stepped into the bathroom and found a stack of clothing waiting for him on the corner of the counter.  A quick inspection revealed that they smelled enough like Jesper to reasonably assume they’d come straight from his own closet, and Wylan found himself biting back a wave of complex emotions he hadn’t been expecting.  

Jesper was supposed to be bad .  That’s what Wylan had been told over and over and over.  That’s what Wylan reminded himself as he showered, as he dried off with the same blue towel Jesper had loaned him his first morning here, as he slipped into the borrowed clothes.  They fit for the most part, though the pants had to be cuffed at the bottom if Wylan wanted to avoid tripping over denim the entire day.  

He is a Dreg, Wylan reminded himself as he gave a half assed effort at smoothing his hair into some semblance of order.  It was pointless, though, and in the next hour or two the curls would be unruly once again.  He brushed his teeth with the toothbrush Jesper had given to him.

He is a criminal, Wylan told himself as he made his way back down the hall, following the sharp scent of fresh coffee and quiet humming.  

He is a dangerous man, Wylan’s brain insisted as Jesper pressed a warm mug between his hands.  

“I knew it,” Jesper said, the rasp of sleep finally wearing off from his voice.  “You do look good in my shirt.” 

The devilish grin on Jesper’s face is what brought heat to Wylan’s cheeks.  

He’s temporary , Wylan reminded himself, and it was the most sobering thought he’d had all morning.  It didn’t matter if Jesper’s teasing was really flirting.  All of this - The Barrel, The Dregs, Jesper - was meant to be a means to an end, and Wylan couldn’t afford to fall victim to Jesper’s smug expression and taunting words if he meant to make it out alive.  

He took a long sip from his mug, willing the color to leave his cheeks, and then asked, “Don’t you need to get ready?” 

If the snub stung Jesper, he didn’t show it.  Instead, he plucked his mug from the counter and strolled past Wylan, bumping into his shoulder as he went.  

“You have twenty minutes to wake yourself up, little prince,” Jesper said, disappearing into the hall.  Over his shoulder, he called out, “After all, you’re my entertainment for this stake-out. I need you looking lively.” 

The click of the bathroom door made Wylan’s shoulders slump forward in relief.  While he would have been perfectly content to use those twenty minutes to think about Jesper’s retreating form, Wylan instead forced himself to return to the living room.  He checked his phone, ensured that there were no notifications on the screen, then positioned it into the pocket of his borrowed pants.  He put his shoes on then, his fingers moving sluggishly to tie the knots.  

With the time he had left, Wylan finally leaned forward, dropped his head into his hands, and let his mind work on organizing itself again.  If Wylan were lucky, he’d have his thoughts together by the time Jesper returned from the shower.  Wylan, however, had never been very lucky, and his brain was still a jumbled mess by the time Jesper came to collect him. 

“Who owns this building?” Wylan asked, pulling the creaking door shut behind him.  He wasn’t sure why he bothered, though.  The windows were all shattered, leaves and dirt coated the floor in a thin layer as far as he could see into the darkened building, and paint that might have once been white was peeling from the walls. 

“Hell if I know,” Jesper admitted with a shrug.  He kicked an abandoned bag of fast food out of his way as he headed for the set of decrepit looking stairs.  “It’s just a place Kaz has us use sometimes since it’s off the books from Haskell.” 

Wylan picked his way over debris and suspicious looking stains as he followed Jesper.  They’d set off from Jesper’s apartment half an hour ago on foot - Jesper explained that his motorcycle was too easy to identify should any Dregs see it on their way to or from The Slat - and, after a quick stop at a convenience store to stock up on snacks and drinks to get them through the day, Jesper had led him through the back door of an old, run-down building that might have once been an office.  Sunlight was just beginning to peek through the windows, which was the only thing allowing Wylan to see where to put his feet as they climbed higher up the staircase.  

“Why would you keep it hidden from Haskell?” Wylan asked as they turned to take the fourth - and what Wylan hoped was the last - flight of stairs.  “Isn’t he the boss?” 

“Yes and no,” Jesper answered, stepping off onto the landing at the top of the fourth flight.  Wylan nearly sighed in relief as the bags in his hands seemed to feel heavier with every step.  “On paper, Haskell is the leader of The Dregs.  In reality, though, I’ve responded to Kaz’s orders more than I’ve ever even spoken to Haskell.  It’s like Haskell gives us the name to be feared, but Kaz is the reason that fear exists in the first place.” 

“I can see that,” Wylan nodded, following along behind Jesper down a narrow hallway pocketed every six feet or so with a wooden door. “Kaz is kind of…” 

“Intense?” Jesper guessed, and when Wylan nodded again, Jesper grinned at him over his shoulder. “He’s not that bad.” 

“All bark, no bite?” Wylan asked, and Jesper snorted. 

“No, no.  He’ll definitely bite, but he’ll also make sure that all the Dregs are fed and that The Slat doesn’t get the heat turned off.  He keeps the money pouring in and ensures that the rest of Ketterdam sees us as something to respect, not to mock.  Kaz is not kind, not by a longshot, but he takes care of what’s his.” 

“That makes it sound like he owns you,” Wylan muttered as Jesper threw open the last door on the hall. 

Jesper shook his head. “Not quite, but I owe him for more things than I can count.” 

“Like what?” 

“Well, for starters, he’s the person who recruited me to The Dregs.”  Jesper dropped the bag he was carrying onto a dust covered desk and went to stand by the window.  He nodded his approval, then turned back to Wylan. “We have a perfect view of The Slat from here. We’ll take turns keeping watch.” 

“Okay,” Wylan said, bobbing his head.  He let quiet fill the room as he dropped his own bags beside Jesper’s, but his curiosity finally won out and he asked, “How did you get into the Dregs?” 

“You’re full of questions today, little prince,” Jesper replied. Wylan worried for a moment that he was on the verge of misstepping, but Jesper’s trademark grin was back in place by the time he answered, “Long story short, I got myself involved with some people I shouldn’t have.  I had a bit of a problem with card games, and it didn’t take long before I was spiraling out of control and borrowing more money than I could ever dream of paying back.  It was a cycle that eventually caught up to me, and when I failed to pay back a pretty hefty loan, a few of the guys I’d borrowed from came after me.  Kaz was nearby at the time and heard the gunshots, and by the time he found the source, I was the last one standing with a smoking gun in my hand and four bodies on the ground.” 

Wylan’s eyes widened. “You killed people?” 

“I’m in a gang , Wylan,” Jesper said, and his tone turned suddenly tense. “Your response is the exact reason I keep encouraging you to reconsider your desire to be a part of this world.” 

“I’m not scared by it,” Wylan defended instantly.  “Just surprised.  You seem so…tame.” 

“I don’t know that tame is the word I would use,” Jesper said, turning back to the window. “Like I already told you, looks-” 

“Can be deceiving?” Wylan guessed.  Jesper’s back was to him, but Wylan caught the hint of a grin in the window’s reflection. 

“You’re catching on nicely,” Jesper muttered.  “Anyway, I was so sure that Kaz was going to turn me in to the cops. I mean, after all, it would have been an opened and closed case.  Instead, though, he offered me a place with The Dregs, promising me that they’d pay off my debts and help cover up the bodies lying on the ground if I promised them my gun skills for life.  I was hesitant at first, obviously, but fear outweighs logic. The rest is kind of a blur, but by the next morning, I had a Dregs tattoo on my chest and all four bodies had mysteriously washed up in random ports around the city.”

“Did they pay off your debts?” 

Jesper’s voice was solemn when he said, “More than once, yes.” 

Wylan could feel the conversation growing dark and stale, so he approached the window and quickly changed the topic. “Which building is The Slat?” 

“That one,” Jesper said, pointing to the three story house at the corner of the street.  He’d been right, it was within perfect view of this window, and despite the early hour, Wylan saw a handful of bodies going to and from the line of cars parked along the sidewalk. Jesper didn’t seem concerned about them, though, so Wylan assumed they must be other Dregs.  

“Can I ask you a question?” Jesper spoke suddenly.  Wylan already knew it would not be a question he wished to answer, but he nodded anyway.  “Why are you so determined to join the Dregs?” 

Wylan stared forward calmly even though the question made his nerves feel frayed. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean what’s your deal?” Jesper’s voice, while demanding, was still level and relaxed.  “Are you just looking to join a gang because it’ll piss off your parents?  Are you hoping that this will make you seem tougher?  Are you looking to fulfill some found family fantasy?  Because I can assure you, The Dregs are not going to be your friends.” 

“I’m here because I didn’t have any other choice,” Wylan replied, his throat feeling tight. 

“There is always a choice,” Jesper said with a sharp shake of his head. 

“Did you choose for your life to end up here?” Wylan countered. 

“Here? No.  But I made bad choices - a lot of them.  I knew that the road I was heading down was a bad one, but I kept driving until there were no exits left to take except this one.” 

Wylan gnawed on his lower lip for a moment. “What if this was the only road left for me as well?” 

“I can’t believe that, little prince.” 

“I can,” Wylan replied, voice barely above a whisper now.  

For several long, uncomfortable moments, Jesper considered him.  It felt as though he’d be studying Wylan’s face for forever until, finally, he offered, “I’m sorry.” 

Wylan’s brows drew together. “For what?” 

“For whatever happened to you that made this your last resort for surviving.” 

Thick, tar-like guilt began to harden in Wylan’s stomach, and he took an involuntary step back from Jesper.  Then another, and another, until he was nearly at the door. “I…I need to…get some air.” 

Jesper’s eyes had been following him, but whatever he saw on Wylan’s face then made him turn back to the window.  He didn’t answer, which was a good thing because Wylan had already turned and started all but sprinting back down the narrow hallway.  

He made it down the stairs and crashed out of the creaking door before he let out a sputtering exhale.  In the thin alley behind the dilapidated office building, Wylan ran gripping fingers through his curls as he fought to keep his breathing under control.  

How did I get here ? He asked himself again, and the memory of a hand at his throat rushed back at him.  He tried to shake it off, but the image was only replaced with the recalled sensation of fingers forcing small round pills past his lips so roughly that his teeth cut into his own skin.  He remembered coughing so violently afterwards that he thought he’d tasted blood.  He remembered the hissed voice, the string of warnings, the bruising hold on his arm.  

The crunching sound of tires on uneven asphalt brought Wylan’s mind tumbling back to the present, and he barely had time to press himself flat against the cool brick wall before a car came cruising slowly down the side street to his left.  Shadows kept him hidden, but Wylan still found his heartbeat racing as he recognized the multicolored light bar atop the police car.  

It wasn’t until the car rolled past the alley and the red brake light glowed in the dim morning light that Wylan’s panic truly set in.  He heard a door open, then another, and he knew that he only had a handful of seconds to make a choice. 

He could turn and run, let his legs carry him as far and as fast as they could go, and leave behind the insanity of the life he’d created for himself.  

Would she ever be able to forgive me if I ruined it all now? Wylan wondered.  The slam of a car door rang through the air like a gunshot.  

He could run, or… 

Wylan opened the door to the abandoned building only wide enough to slip his body through, sighing in relief when it didn’t creak loudly behind him.  

In the end, he did run, but instead of away , he ran up four long flights of stairs, down a lengthy narrow hallway, and straight to Jesper. 

The Zemeni man turned away from the window at the sudden noise with two raised brows. “Jesus, what the hell are you-” 

“Cops,” Wylan managed, though his breath was wracking through him after the mad dash up the stairs. “They’re-” 

The loud creak of the door downstairs brought Wylan’s words to a halt.  He expected fear to color Jesper’s features the way it was taking over Wylan’s.  Instead, though, Jesper’s expression was the same level of calm he was used to seeing.  In a flurry of movement, Jesper had tucked the bags of snacks beneath the broken desk, grabbed Wylan’s hand, and began dragging him back down the narrow hall.  

Wylan opened his mouth to protest - shouldn’t they be headed away from the police, not towards them? - but before he could get a word out, Jesper had thrown open another door on the hall and shoved Wylan inside.  It wasn’t until the door closed with a quiet click behind them that Wylan realized the room was windowless, and he and Jesper were suddenly suffocated in darkness. 

Jesper’s phone flashlight suddenly illuminated the space, revealing a storage closet of some sort.  There were rows of rickety metal shelving stacked high with old cleaning and office supplies, and along the back wall stood tall shelves filled with boxes.  

Jesper dragged Wylan towards the back of the room, carefully stepping over discarded mops and long disregarded trash.  The rows of boxes sat a little over a foot away from the wall, though Wylan hadn’t been able to tell from the entrance that there was space at all behind them.  Jesper squeezed his form behind it, pulling Wylan along with him, and then killed the flashlight.  Darkness consumed both of them again, and Wylan kept his mouth clamped shut as he fought to breathe quietly through his nose.  It was a wasted effort, though, and air continued to enter and leave his lungs in labored huffs. 

His panic that had him curling in on himself in the alley only minutes before had only paused its growth, not dissolved entirely.  Now, with the weight of the dark, damp air settling over him and the thrum of fearful anticipation in his veins, Wylan felt the panic creeping over his limbs again like hundreds of tiny little ants.  He heard boots on the stairs, and he shook his arms and legs in an effort to free himself of the crawling sensation smothering his skin. 

In his carelessness, Wylan’s foot connected with a discarded bucket, and the dull thunk echoed through the small room like a cannon going off.  The volume made Wylan jump and take a step backward, but the dust slicked floor made him stumble.  

This is how I go out, he thought dumbly to himself as he fought for balance. Taken out by clumsiness and idiocy .  

His father would find it fitting. 

Before he could connect with the ground, though, a strong arm looped under one of his and across his chest, dragging him back upright.  For a split second, Wylan stayed rooted in place, lost in the sensation of Jesper’s firm chest at his back and his slender forearm a steel bar across Wylan’s chest.  In that split second, Wylan considered sinking backward into the touch, but he was not so far gone that he couldn’t understand how terrible an idea that would be.  

“Sorry,” Wylan breathed finally, his feet sturdy underneath him once again.  He went to pull away from Jesper. “You can let me-” 

The rest of his sentence was cut off when Jesper’s other hand clamped over Wylan’s lips - not harsh enough to hurt, but firm enough to say shut up without needing the words. 

The argument that he could handle standing quietly by himself was on the tip of Wylan’s tongue, but the words died when the squawk of a police radio was heard just outside the door. 

The door handle rattled, and so did Wylan’s nerves.  So, when the closet door opened and Wylan caught sight of a thin beam of light, he snapped both his own hands over Jesper’s, a last ditch effort to muffle his ragged breathing.  

Wylan had always understood fear.  It was a common consistency in his life, though an outsider looking in would never know it.  He was used to the thrum of his heartbeat turning violent in his chest.  He’d learned long ago how to keep quiet, how to swallow down his fright until it was a tiny, miniscule thing.  He’d adapted. He’d survived. 

This fear, though, felt foreign.  He’d finally gotten his in with The Dregs.  This was his last chance, his only shot.  If he were caught now, if he were arrested, would he survive? Would his mother?  Would the police recognize him when that beam of light landed on his face?  How long would it take for them to notify his father? 

Heavy boots scraped against the floor near the door, and Wylan fought off a shudder.  He was breathing too loud, but his panic wouldn’t allow him to be quiet.  If the officer took even a few more steps into the room, he’d hear the barely muffled huff of Wylan’s breaths and it would all be over.  All of it. 

“ Sorry ,” Jesper breathed, though Wylan felt the shape of the word against his ear more than he actually heard it.  Then, Jesper’s hand shifted to pinch Wylan’s nose, effectively silencing him finally.  However, the moment his air was gone, Wylan felt his fright growing into something far more feral than it had been a moment before.  

Suddenly, it was no longer Jesper’s hand helping him keep quiet, it was his father’s grip around his throat meant to harm.  It was no longer a darkened supply closet, it was the backseat of a roomy SUV. It was no longer safe.  He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t fight, he couldn’t- 

“The lower floors are all clear,” a low, gruff voice intruded on Wylan’s spiraling mind.  “All good here?” 

“Maybe,” the other officer replied. “I thought I heard something…” 

Jesper’s hand across Wylan’s chest curled into a fist, capturing the material of Wylan’s borrowed t-shirt with it.  Wylan squeezed his eyes shut, leaned into the grip like it was an anchor, and tried not to pass out. 

Footsteps neared.  Wylan saw stars behind his eyelids. 

A garbled mess of speech spilled from one of the officer’s radios.  Wylan found it impossible to decipher the words, but the officer on the other side of the shelves didn’t seem to have as much trouble as he did.  

“Radio back,” he said, voice calm and suddenly bored. “We’ll take the call.  A robbery is much more entertaining than checking out this bogus B&E anyway.” 

The other officer snorted, but did as he was instructed and announced over his radio that they’d be taking the call.  When the door clicked shut behind them, Wylan sagged in Jesper’s hold, but neither of Jesper’s hands loosened their grip.  In fact, it wasn’t until they heard the tell-tale creak of the door at the base of the stairs that Jesper finally dropped both of his hands.  

Wylan staggered forward and sucked in a breath that made his lungs ache.  The sudden rush of air left his body weak and his brain muddled, and when Jesper’s flashlight finally turned on again, it found Wylan seated on the dirty floor, his back digging into the metal shelves as air struggled to find a safe rhythm to enter and leave his lungs. 

“You know, I’d hoped that the first time I had to cover your mouth like that, it would be for a very different reason.” 

Wylan dragged trembling fingers through his hair and slanted an irritated look up at Jesper.  “Do we really think now is the time for that?” 

“Sorry,” Jesper mumbled, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “Just trying to lighten the mood.” 

Wylan tipped his head back against the shelf behind him, wincing lightly when the metal knocked against his skull.  “Lighten the mood once I can breathe again.” 

“Fair enough,” Jesper said.  He crouched down beside Wylan and lay his phone flat on one of the shelves, letting the light spill over them both instead of being a spotlight on Wylan’s gasping form. “So, are we going to talk about what’s going on with you?” 

Wylan closed his eyes. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean yesterday you’re threatening to shoot a guy when you don’t even have a gun, and today you’re hyperventilating because a couple of cops showed up?” 

There was no easy way to say my brain can’t figure out what is real and what’s a memory right now , so Wylan went with the simpler explanation.

“I’m just…on edge today,” Wylan mumbled, shrugging without opening his eyes. 

“Because of the nightmare?” 

It was a correct assumption, but Wylan still ground his teeth at how easy it had been for Jesper to read him.  He’d always prided himself on being able to lie, on his skill of masking his true emotions with ones that were far safer for human consumption.  He’d been trying; he’d thought the majority of his panic had been kept within, other than the labored breathing, but apparently he’d been mistaken. 

“Yeah. Because of the nightmare.” 

“I’m assuming you don’t want to talk about it?” 

“No,” Wylan’s answer was instant.  “I’ll get my shit together - promise. Just…give me a minute.” 

Jesper nodded, though the movement was slow and skeptical.  Finally, he stood.  “Take five, little prince.  When your lungs and brain are working properly again, come back down the hall. We’ll need to be careful around the windows - someone must have seen us and called the cops - but there’s still a job to get done.”  He hesitated for a brief moment , his eyebrows pulled together over watchful gray eyes, before adding, “You sure you’re good?”  

Wylan nodded, though he wasn’t sure that the word good could apply to him in any aspect right now. There were too many parts of him that had been tainted, too many thoughts turned dark by his father, too many memories flashing through his mind in a disorderly mess. Jesper, oblivious to the chaotic web of spiraling thoughts in Wylan’s brain right now, grabbed his phone and turned.  When he left, he took the light with him.

Chapter Text

Matthias hadn’t even been back in Ketterdam for a full twenty-four hours, and yet he could already feel this city gnawing at him. Everywhere he turned, his eyes landed on the grotesque sins of this place – the ones he’d been blind to his last time here.

During his last journey to this city, Matthias had been far too distracted by wide green eyes and thick auburn hair to see just how wrong this place was.  He’d let his guard slip, let himself fall headfirst into Nina and all of her intricacies, let her trick him into believing that this city couldn’t possibly be all bad if it contained her within its walls.

He’d learned his lesson, though. He knew better this time. And, for what was likely going to be the only time, he was grateful for Kaz Brekker and his forethought to keep Matthias sanctioned away at a hotel – as grimy and uncomfortable as it was.  The more time he had to spend with Nina Zenik, the easier it would be for him to slip again.  He knew that he was weak, especially when it came to her.

Do not disappoint me again.  Brum’s warning rang through Matthias’s skull again and again, growing louder the longer Matthias stayed in the city.  Each time the words repeated, Matthias thought back, I won’t…I can’t.

Truthfully, the only thing louder than his commander’s voice inside his head were the dozens of questions he’d been waiting to ask since he’d arrived last night. He needed to know why he specifically was here. Why had Kaz Brekker requested him? Was it only because of whatever debt Brum owed to Brekker? How high were the stakes if Brum was willing to send Matthias back into this hellhole?  What could Brekker be threatening Brum with to make the commander ignore his distaste for this city?

Matthias had kept those questions to himself all night, but now his fingertips were tapping restlessly against the car door.  He was six hours into his watch over Per Haskell’s neighborhood with Brekker, and despite the closed quarters inside the car, the two of them had been locked in a stalemate of silence nearly the entire time.  In fact, the only words spoken had been when Kaz parked the car, pointed to the three story home situated snugly in the middle of a residential street, and muttered, “That one is Haskell’s.”

Since then, Kaz hadn’t looked at or spoken to Matthias again.  His dark gaze was focused elsewhere – scanning every car that passed, every dog walker crossing the street, every neighbor entering or exiting their own home.

The streets around them were fairly still now, and that fact combined with Matthias’s growing, restless need for answers finally gave him the motivation to speak.

“Why did you lie?”

A few full beats of silence later, Kaz answered without even glancing in Matthias’s direction. “I’m going to need more specifics than that if you want an answer.”

“You told Commander Brum that she was no longer in the city,” Matthias explained, a bitterness on his tongue even though he couldn’t quite bring himself to speak her name out loud.  For what felt like a long time, she’d been nothing but a memory – something that he could brush off as a figment of his imagination if he could just avoid thinking of her for long enough.  Being back here, though, brought every wild, vibrant, vivid thing about Nina Zenik back into focus, and it was going to take all of his self-control to continue ignoring her existence.

“I did not lie,” Kaz spoke with a heaving sigh. He reached for the pack of cigarettes resting in the center console, and Matthias wrinkled his nose against the stench preemptively. “My exact words to your commander were, ‘Nina Zenik will not be a cause of concern.’ Whatever he chose to take away from that is his own problem.”

With a short huff of irritation, Matthias said, “Clearly he would assume that meant-”

“Ah, and there is the problem, Helvar,” Kaz interrupted. He paused long enough to stick a cigarette between his lips. “Your boss should have known better than to assume he knew anything about me.”

There was something about the way that Kaz Brekker spoke that irritated Matthias now as much as it had when they’d first met nearly two years ago.  He had a special way of uttering words so simply, so sternly, that it was clear he’d left no room for questions. There was an easy arrogance that always existed in his tone, and it inexplicably made Matthias’s fingers curl into fists whenever that voice was directed at him.

“Well, obviously, the two of you must know one another in some aspect if he owed you a favor,” Matthias spat back.   Though, if he was being truly honest with himself, the venom in his words was not meant for Kaz alone.

Kaz lit his cigarette and let a new, tense silence stretch between them while he lowered his window. This was another of Kaz’s traits that Matthias found unbearable.  He had a habit of letting the quiet do the talking for him. He’d lean back and let you sit with your own words until they began to twist and turn into some other beast entirely, and only once you’d begun to question your own thoughts would he broach the conversation again with a knowing look in the demonic blackness of his eyes.

As he let out a cloud of acrid smoke that billowed around his face, Kaz stated, “You’re curious why a man as holy and righteous as Brum would owe someone like me a favor.”

It was not a question, so Matthias took a page out of Kaz’s own book and kept his lips firmly shut.  Of course he was curious. Of course none of this made any sense.  Of course he’d been wracking his brain for the past twenty-four hours trying to come up with a sliver of logic that would help him understand.  As irritated as Matthias was with Kaz, he felt almost equally annoyed with Commander Brum for keeping whatever secrets he had about Brekker hidden away. 

As quickly as that annoyance rose, though, it withered and died.  Matthias was, above all else, a soldier.  He knew that there were three tenants that every good soldier had to follow.  Hold your chin up, follow orders, and keep your questions to yourself.  They were some of the first words that Brum had ever spoken to him, and they’d been driven into his head over and over since then.

“I could tell you,” Kaz’s low voice broke through Matthias’s thoughts. “You won’t like the answer though.”

“Why would I want to hear whatever you have to say?” Matthias ground out. “You are a liar.”

“And not the only one,” Kaz mumbled, sounding bored. He flicked his cigarette against the edge of the rolled down window, letting orange and gray ash float to the ground outside the car. Matthias watched as it fell.   

It was tempting to let the conversation die there, but try as Matthias might, he couldn’t ignore the itch for answers growing inside his own mind.  Brum had sent him here without even an attempt at an explanation, knowing Matthias wouldn’t push back hard enough to ask.  And here was Kaz Brekker, with answers laid out on a silver platter, waiting for Matthias to reach for them. All he had to do was ask, but he knew the types of lies the people of Ketterdam could dish out. Whatever untruth Kaz unleashed would take room inside Matthias’s head, poison him just like it had before, break him all over again. 

Yet, still, he wondered.

“Fine,” he heaved after the silence within the car had grown uncomfortable.  He turned forward to avoid seeing Kaz’s face when he said, “Tell me your lies.”

“Let me be clear, Helvar,” Kaz paused, taking a long drag off his cigarette.  “There is far more to your commander than you could possibly imagine.  I’ll ask again, are you sure you want to know?”

Matthias felt the urge to argue and insist that Brekker was nothing but a dirty liar who would say whatever it took to push Matthias’s buttons. However, while Matthias would never claim to know Kaz, he’d interacted with him enough during his previous stay in Ketterdam to know that one thing was always true:  Kaz Brekker never did anything without reason.  Every crime he committed, every life he took, every dollar he stole, it all brought him investments, allies, cash, or some other prize he could use to climb his way up in The Barrel.

Which meant that he would not have brought any of this up with the sole intention of irritating Matthias.  There was a purpose to this conversation, something to be gained, but Matthias didn’t know what that was yet.  So, in lieu of speaking, Matthias simply nodded his agreement.  He not only wanted to know, he needed to.

“Unfortunately, I can’t give away all of my secrets just yet,” Kaz explained, his voice calm and even despite how on edge Matthias felt. “What I can tell you is this: your precious commander has quite a taste for the Ketterdam nightlife.”

Matthias scowled. “Nightlife?”

“You know,” Kaz shrugged lightly, taking another pull from his cigarette.  “The drinking, the gambling, the girls young enough to be his-”

“Enough,” Matthias spat, lips curling in disgust. “I knew you were just going to make things up.”

“Don’t interrupt me again,” Kaz spoke slowly, a lazy order.  “As I was saying, I stumbled onto him during one of his visits to my lovely city.  I recognized him, asked him what he would be willing to do to keep his hobbies under wraps, and by the end of the night we shook hands on a deal.  Didn’t speak to him again until I called in my favor.”

Distrust roiled in Matthias’s gut.  The imagined images of his commander engaging in any of the activities that the people of this city found commonplace were wrong. The thought was impossible, and it was enough to turn Matthias’s curiosity into anger.

“Whatever you think you saw Brum doing in Ketterdam, you’re wrong.”

Kaz flicked him an unimpressed look. “I’m never wrong.”

“This time you are,” Matthias insisted, his scowl deepening. “The only reason that Brum would ever step foot in Ketterdam in the first place is if he were trying to fix everything that’s broken in this godforsaken city.  He is the most decorated and respected military commander in all of Fjerda.  He would never be-”

“Shut up,” Kaz spat suddenly, his body going still in an instant. 

“No,” Matthias argued unthinkingly. “If you think that you can just-”

“Helvar,” Kaz snapped.  He hadn’t raised his voice, but the sudden intensity in his tone was so drastically different from his usual bored drawl that it grabbed Matthias’s attention. “Stop talking. Something’s wrong.”

Those words killed the argument braced at the tip of Matthias’s tongue, and he turned to examine the streets in front of him with new vigilance. All day, Matthias had been clocking each car that had rolled by, the numerous people that had strolled along the sidewalks, or the shapes that he could make out inside the windows of the elaborate homes.  Nothing had been out of the ordinary all day, and now, as Matthias scanned the nearly empty streets on all sides with efficiency, he realized that was still true. 

Slowly, Matthias turned his head back to Kaz. “What do you mean something’s-”

His voice cut out as he saw them, finally. A lone figure turned the corner onto the residential street, hands tucked deep into oversized pockets and a cap pulled low to shadow their face.  Strange, Matthias thought, and it was the only thought he managed before one of the figure’s hands slipped from their pocket. 

Matthias barely had time to shout out a warning as he recognized the glint of metal, and both he and Kaz instinctively ducked when a shot rang out.  A sharp crack sounded as the windshield gave way to the bullet, and Matthias waited a few heart-pounding moments to see if pain would explode anywhere on his body.

Feeling no cause for concern, Matthias cautiously lifted his head in an effort to locate the shooter.  However, he found the street empty; the culprit had apparently disappeared around the corner he’d just came from.

“Are you hit?” he asked, less out of genuine concern and more out of moral obligation.

“Barely.”

Matthias turned a furrowed brow to Kaz at that and found the Ketterdam native reaching for the keys in the ignition.  Matthias understood what he meant then as he caught a glimpse of the thick slice of red across Kaz’s right cheekbone.  A graze, it looked like, and not the worst that Matthias had ever seen.  However, he still wondered how Kaz could so easily ignore the spill of blood down the side of his face that was now seeping into the collar of his dark shirt. 

“We’re leaving?” Matthias asked as Kaz put the car into drive and peeled out into the street.  Kaz’s only reply was a cold hum of agreement, and he just barely slowed down as he whipped the car around the same corner the mysterious shooter had just disappeared around. 

The side street was long and narrow, meaning the shooter hadn’t had time to escape entirely.  When the hooded figure heard the rumble of the engine behind them, they glanced over their shoulder, eyes going wide.  He’s young, Matthias realized as the car began to slow just a bit.

Matthias reached for the door, expecting the rest of this chase to take place on foot.  Instead, in one fluid motion, Kaz Brekker plucked his own gun from his waistband, leveled it out of his still open window, and fired twice.  The suddenness of the sound made Matthias jolt, and in that same second, the figure ahead of them went rigid, then fell.

Matthias felt as though all the air had been punched out of him, and it took him a few floundering seconds before he demanded, “What did you just do?”

“Killed the person who just tried to kill us.”

“You didn’t even…” Matthias paused, sucking in a big breath.  It had been a while since he’d actually watched someone die, and even then it had been in the midst of battle.  This was…different.  There was too much silence after this death. Matthias swallowed, then said, “We could have questioned him. Maybe he had answers about what’s been going on.”

“Do you know who shoots and runs without sticking around long enough to make sure their hit landed?” Kaz asked, so casually it made Matthias feel sick.  “Hired guns with shit experience.  He didn’t know anything.”

The car was still rolling forward slowly as Kaz tucked his weapon back into its holster. Matthias blinked a few times, trying to erase the image of the falling body, and insisted, “That doesn’t excuse senseless murder. You had no right.”

“He fired at a high ranking Dregs member in the dead center of Dregs territory,” Kaz spat, a bit louder than before. It was the first slip in his calm composure, and he hid the mistake quickly.  “I let one stupid kid shoot at me without repercussions, and I lose my edge in this city.  This is a message to whoever hired him. Don’t fuck with the Dregs, and especially don’t fuck with Kaz Brekker.”

“Your arrogance is revolting,” Matthias countered. Kaz ignored him and simply pressed on the gas. As the car began to pick up speed again, Matthias continued, “We can’t just leave him in-”

The sudden, shrill shriek of sirens cut off the rest of Matthias’s complaint. Ahead of them, at the street’s exit, two pristine white cars with twin sets of flashing lights screeched to a halt, effectively blocking their path forward. 

“Shit,” Kaz complained, slamming on the brakes hard enough that Matthias had to snap out both arms to keep himself from going headfirst into the dashboard.  Without hesitation, Kaz shifted the car into reverse, and with a mere glance into the rearview, he stomped onto the gas again. 

“We’re running from the cops now?” Matthias asked breathlessly.  He watched ahead of them as two officers raced out of the vehicles, guns already lifted. 

“I’m sorry, did you want to get picked up on a murder charge today?” Kaz snapped.

“I’m not the one who fired the gun.”

“Yeah, well, you were sitting right beside me when I did it, so you’re not exactly innocent in the eyes of the law, Helvar.”

Matthias opened his mouth to argue, but Kaz hit the brakes so suddenly again that the air whooshed out of Matthias as if he’d been struck.

A quick glance over his shoulder told Matthias why:  two shiny black SUVs blocked their path in the opposite direction as well.  There were no lights on these vehicles, and the windows were far too tinted to see inside. Regardless, though, their presence made Matthias’s stomach fall into his shoes.

Was this how it ended?  He’d been back in Ketterdam for less than a day, and already he was either going to find himself killed by whatever ridiculous, half-assed escape plan Kaz conjured up or sealed away in some grimy Ketterdam police station.  Worse than that knowledge was the realization that, no matter which happened, he’d have disappointed his commander…again.

I can get out of the car, Matthias thought, and then, he decided firmly, yes, I’ll get out of the car, turn myself in, and show these officers that I’m innocent. Maybe then, Brum won’t be-

Matthias’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt as the car roared to life beneath him again, jolting forward so fast that Matthias had to grip the car door for support.

“What’re you-”

“Stop talking,” Kaz snapped sharply, his hands tight fists around the steering wheel. 

The next sixty seconds seemed to pass at both a blur and a crawl.   One moment, Matthias was locking eyes with one of the officers as the car raced towards the roadblock.  He heard someone shout, heard the ping of bullets as they connected with the body of the car.  In that instant, Matthias felt sure that this was it, and his breath halted in his chest as he watched his end rush towards him.

In the next moment, Matthias slammed into the car door violently as Kaz hit the brakes and the car veered suddenly to the left.  A thin strip of asphalt separated two of the buildings, far too narrow to be considered more than an alleyway, but Kaz directed the car towards it anyway.  It was too tight a fit, and as the car slipped into the mouth of the alley, the side mirror next to Matthias snapped off with a clatter and the metal door screeched its protest as it scraped along the wall. 

The repetitive ping, ping, ping of bullets raining against the trunk of the car made Matthias slip further down in his seat, but Kaz once again barely seemed to notice the threat.  Instead, his face remained stoic and impassive, as if they were simply going for a leisurely drive. 

Just as Matthias was coming to the conclusion that Kaz Brekker was perhaps even more insane than he’d feared, the car sped out of the narrow gap.  The tires squealed beneath them as Kaz whipped the vehicle to the right this time, forcing Matthias to grip onto the door for support as they sped forward down another side street. 

The sound of sirens behind them grew in intensity, matching the steady rise of Matthias’s heartbeat.  For the second time today, Matthias found himself grateful for Kaz Brekker - albeit reluctantly.  Matthias wasn’t even positive he could know his own hometown with the same accuracy that Brekker knew Ketterdam.  For the next five minutes, Matthias kept silent as Kaz cut sharp corners and slipped down empty side streets that Matthias would have never known existed.  Within ten minutes, the sound of sirens had grown so faint that Matthias could barely hear them howling in the distance.  Within twenty, he felt his heart rate beginning to slow. 

Feeling confident that the immediate threat was gone, Matthias sat fully upright and glanced over his shoulder.  Small holes and cracks riddled the back windshield, but neither he nor Kaz had been hit in the chase.  Though, when Matthias turned back to the front, he found that fresh blood was still cascading down the side of Kaz’s face from their earlier encounter. 

“That’s going to need stitches,” Matthias mumbled, the first words either of them had spoken in the better part of half an hour.  They were in what appeared to be a deserted warehouse district now, and Kaz’s speed had dropped considerably enough that Matthias assumed they must be safe.

Kaz’s eyes didn’t waver from the loose gravel road in front of him. “I’ll handle it once we stop.”

“Is it safe to stop?” Matthias wondered.

“They’ll have already put out an APB on this car,” Kaz answered, sounding vaguely annoyed.  “We can lay low here for a while.”

Matthias’s brows drew together. “Here?”

Kaz pulled the car to a slow halt in front of a random warehouse entrance.  Again, Matthias glanced around, but found no other sign of life. 

“Open the door,” Kaz instructed with a nod.  He’d still yet to even look in Matthias’s direction, and Matthias had half a mind to remind the man that he was not a servant.  However, his adrenaline was still pumping hotly in his veins, and despite his distrust for Brekker, he found himself obediently climbing out of the car and approaching the rusting warehouse bay door.  It took a bit more strength than he would have expected to set the old door moving, but he managed to raise it far enough that Kaz could pull the beaten up car into the gaping, empty space inside. 

As Matthias lowered the creaking bay door, Kaz killed the engine.  There was just enough sunlight still filtering in through the broken warehouse windows for Matthias to tell that whatever this building once was, it hadn’t been used in years.  Every inch of space was covered in a thick layer of dirt, dust, or rust. 

The driver’s side door opened with a quiet click, but Kaz did not get out.  Instead, he turned sideways to let his boots rest on the dirty concrete ground as he retrieved his pack of cigarettes again.  As he lit up, Matthias rounded the car.  The damage was not irreversible, but it would be expensive to repair.  The once shiny black paint was almost completely scraped off on the passenger’s side, left in that narrow alley along with the side mirror.  The rear of the car was pocketed with bullet holes, more than Matthias remembered being conscious of in the middle of their escape. 

“What is this place?” Matthias asked as he rounded the driver’s side of the car. 

Kaz glanced around at the bare walls, the litter covered floor, the broken glass windows, and said, “Looks like a warehouse.”

“Tsk,” Matthias complained. “I meant - how do you now that no one will find us here?”

“Haskell owns the place,” Kaz explained.  “And the couple warehouses on either side.  They’ve been out of use for a while; nobody is coming around to check for us here.  No one else even knows they’re here.”

“How long are we stuck here?”

Kaz stared off into space for a long moment, considering, before he replied, “Until nightfall.”

Matthias winced inwardly.  It was still just barely past noon, and without the outer stimulus of staking out the area near Haskell’s home, Matthias would have nothing as a buffer between himself and Brekker.  Though, his distaste for the man had gotten easier to stomach after he’d successfully gotten them out of that blocked off side-street without injury. 

Well, without injury to Matthias, that is.

“Will you be alright for that long?  I meant it, your face needs stitches or it’s just going to keep bleeding.” 

Kaz scoffed at that - or snorted, perhaps, though Matthias had rarely seen him amused so it was hard to tell.  He finished off his cigarette, discarded the end on the ground, and stood. 

“I told you,” Kaz began as he went to the trunk, “I’ll handle it.”

Matthias frowned in confusion, but followed curiously behind Kaz.  The trunk was packed full of items, but they were organized into semi-neat stacks and clusters.  It didn’t take long for Kaz to pick out a half empty bottle of isopropyl alcohol, a lump of fabric that Matthias belatedly identified as a crumpled t-shirt, and a thin black case.  Kaz went back to the driver’s seat, deposited his items into the passenger’s seat beside him, and flipped down the visor. 

Matthias’s forehead was still wrinkled with uncertainty, but Kaz ignored his questioning look.  With the dark t-shirt, Kaz cleared away most of the blood dirtying his cheek with a few harsh swipes.  His lack of precision left slick smears of red near his ear and chin, but the mess didn’t seem to bother him.  Instead, he tossed the shirt away and picked up the bottle of clear liquid.  Matthias stared on in vague wonder as Kaz carefully tipped his head out of the car, brought the bottle up to this cheek, and poured. 

The moment the liquid connected with the broken skin, Kaz’s eyes snapped shut and his jaw tensed, but he made no sound of complaint.  Matthias continued to study the man with thinly veiled interest.  His eyes followed the way Kaz discarded the bottle into the seat beside him, the way his scarred fingers unzipped the thin black case, the way he removed a silver needle from said case and threaded it with precision. 

It wasn’t until Kaz had pinched the split skin on his cheek with one hand and pierced the flesh with the needle in the other that Matthias’s disgust finally won out and he looked away.

“Thought you were a soldier, Helvar,” Kaz said leisurely, as if he weren’t currently stitching himself back together as they spoke.  “You’ve had to have seen worse than this if you’re worth your rank.”

Matthias didn’t dignify that with a response. “We have a word for people like you in my language.”

“Really?  I didn’t think the Fjerdans were big on swearing.”

Matthias scoffed.  “Not that.  Demjin.  Not human.”

“There are some in the city that might agree with you on that.” 

Matthias chanced another look at the damage, only to grimace in disgust as he watched Kaz pulled the now bloodied thread taut.

With a cool look, Kaz said, “All the staring is distracting.  Go find somewhere to sit and wait.  As soon as it’s dark, I’ll call Nina to come get us.”

Now, the distaste on Matthias’s face stemmed from an entirely different source.  “I’d rather walk back.”

“Not an option,” Kaz replied, and there it was again - that tone that made it clear Matthias had no other choice than to obey.  “Someone might have gotten a good look at you in the car earlier; it’s too risky.  Besides, I need all of us together so we can figure out what the hell happened today.”

Though Matthias wanted to continue his argument - because being in the car with Nina was not something he wished to endure again - he found himself pausing.  Something in the way Kaz stonily tugged his skin back together convinced Matthias that this wasn’t going to be an argument he could win.

So, instead, he left Kaz to his work and picked his way across the dark warehouse floor.  He found a decently clean corner to settle into, and there he tipped his head back against the cool wall and closed his eyes to wait for nightfall.  As he waited, he let his mind wander. And, as it always tends to do whenever he’s alone, it wandered toward thoughts of Nina.

Nearly two years ago:

Matthias’s stay in Ketterdam so far had been entertaining, to say the least. With his wallet back in his possession, though, he felt like he had a new lease on life.  The Ketterdam skies were a bit brighter than their usual dull gray, the strangers he passed on the street looked less threatening, and he no longer woke with every shout he heard at night.

His current problem, though, was his mentor. Professor Rennell – as he’d insisted on being called despite the fact that Matthias had seen no official documentation that he was, indeed, a professor – was a perfectly kind man. He’d opened his home to Matthias, shared his knowledge, let Matthias sit and eat with his family as if he were one of them.  However, the professor had one major problem: a constant line of questioning whenever his attention was settled on Matthias. 

At first, Matthias thought that Professor Rennell had simply been trying to get to know him better. He’d asked about Matthias’s interest and his experience at Brum’s military academy and what he was excited about learning while he was in Ketterdam.  All of that was perfectly normal enough.

Gradually, the questions grew more intense, more invasive.  He wanted to know what types of friends Matthias had back home, how often he’d chatted with them since he’d been here, the types of things they’d get into during their down time.  He asked if Matthias had ever left the military academy, and when Matthias had insisted that no, he hadn’t, the professor had exclaimed, “Ah, but surely a young man like yourself must have snuck out once or twice to meet the girls in town?”

Matthias hadn’t liked that question, so he’d tried to steer past it, but Professor Rennell had been insistent. Then, he’d asked Matthias what he got into whenever he left the house here.  Had he made a friend? Would Commander Brum approve of them? Was he planning to see them again?

Matthias had enough sense to know that whatever he said here would, without fail, end up in Brum’s ears, which is why Matthias was had quickly dismissed himself after his lessons for the day and set out for a walk around town.  He kept his head turned down, his hands stuffed into his pockets so he could clutch onto his phone and wallet as he walked. 

His only goal had been to get out of that house and avoid another round of questions from Professor Rennell, so he had no real destination in mind.  However, when he saw a brightly colored sign up ahead indicating a coffee shop, he figured that was as good a place as any to waste time until he had to head back for dinner. So, he weaved through mild early afternoon traffic and ducked inside.

Once he had his coffee in hand, he planted himself at a small round table near the back corner and occupied himself by alternating between taking sips of his halfway decent coffee and scrolling through a couple different apps on his phone. The time difference between here and Fjerda meant that what few friends he had back home would be sleeping, so he didn’t even bother wasting the time to draft any texts.

He’d have been perfectly content staying right there, too, if – only fifteen minutes into his stay - he hadn’t heard the rough scrape of the chair across from him being dragged out. Matthias lifted his head, brows pulled together in vague annoyance.

Whatever complaint he’d been preparing died as he caught sight of the unfortunately familiar smooth, round face peering down at him through curtains of auburn waves.

She didn’t speak, not at first, but when the tense silence stretched to its limits, she snapped, “Are you following me?”

Matthias reared back, hoping his irritation was as clear on his face as it felt. “What?”

Nina stared at him for a long moment, dissecting him, searching for answers he’d hidden away from her.  Then, when she came up empty handed, she sighed and fell heavily into the chair across from him.

Matthias frowned. “I didn’t say you could sit there.”

“Oh,” Nina remarked lightly. “That’s alright. I didn’t ask.”

Frustration made Matthias’s fists clench, but the movement only seemed to encourage Nina further.  She swirled the cup in her hand, ice clattering loudly inside the thin plastic, and then she took a long sip from the narrow black straw. 

When he’d left her apartment two weeks ago, with his wallet in his own hands again, he’d expected to never see her again.  Now that he was seeing her, he couldn’t pinpoint where one emotion ended and the next began. At best, he would describe his current state of mind as annoyingly intrigued. 

“I’ve lived in Ketterdam since I was eighteen years old,” Nina stated after she finished her sip. Matthias met her gaze hesitantly, for she was already staring at him as if she wished she could peel him apart.  “Do you know how many times I’ve bumped into the same tourist more than once?”

Matthias raised a skeptical brow. “I’m sure it happens from time to time.”

“From time to time, yes,” Nina allowed with a nod. “But never more than twice. You see, running into the same person twice is a coincidence.  Running into them a third time…now that is suspicious. So, I’ll ask again:  are you following me?”

Matthias’s eyes rolled dramatically. “Do not flatter yourself.  It’s a simple coincidence.”

“Several simple coincidences,” Nina corrected.

Matthias brought his coffee up to his lips and relented. “Fine.  Several.”

The silence between them was broken only by the chatter of conversations all around them.  For several long, excruciating moments, Matthias nursed his drink and Nina kept her green eyes locked on the tabletop between them, lost in her own thoughts.

“Do you think it’s fate, then?”

Matthias blinked and brought his attention back to her face.  “What?”

“Fate,” Nina repeated.  When she lifted her eyes to meet his again, though, Matthias felt the need to look away from her, though he wasn’t sure why.

“What does fate have to do with any of this?” he asked, suddenly very focused on inspecting the label on the side of his coffee cup.

“I don’t think of fate in the fairytale sort of way,” Nina explained with a dismissive flourish of her hand.  “I think fate is more about…opportunities.  It’s the universe’s way of letting you know you’re not done with someone yet.”

Matthias fiddled with his cup. “What would fate want with either of us?”

“No way to know for certain,” Nina remarked with a sigh.  She tapped the tip of her long, red painted nails against the tabletop for a moment before she gasped. “I have an idea.”

“Which is?”

“Are you busy this afternoon?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“It’s a surprise. Now, answer mine.”

Almost against his will, Matthias answered honestly, “I’m free.”

“Good,” Nina declared, shoving to her feet. She accidentally bumped into the man seated behind her, and she offered an airy apology before turning her gaze back to Matthias.  “I’d like to show you something.  Come with me.”

“Now?” Matthias asked, but she was already heading to the door.

“Preferably,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m already running late.”

Matthias considered pointing out that she might not be running late if she hadn’t decided to plant herself across from him without permission, but he figured that complaint would fall on deaf ears.  Instead, he cast her a skeptical look as he got to his feet. 

“How do I know that this isn’t some secret ploy to steal my wallet again?”

Nina glanced over her shoulder long enough to roll her eyes at him. “Matthias, you and I both know there isn’t enough in there to make it worth stealing. If it makes you feel any better, I’m just going to show you how I spend my Friday afternoons.”

Doing devilish things, no doubt, Matthias thought to himself, and yet he found himself following her anyway.  As soon as they were out of the coffee shop, Nina set a brisk pace. She alternated between sipping her iced coffee, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Matthias was still behind her, and tossing questions back at him whenever the silence grew stagnant.  She was a curious little thing, that much he’d learned when they’d met last time, and he wasn’t sure how she still had questions left. Though, these questions didn’t grate against his nerves the way the professor’s had.  Instead, Nina asked him what he thought of particular songs – if he’d heard them, which wasn’t often considering that he was not well versed in pop culture.  She wanted to know if he’d tried a certain restaurant in Ketterdam yet, or if he’d stopped by the vintage store near the post office.

When he’d admitted that he hadn’t yet tried the waffles at the local diner, she was so baffled that she spun on him.  If he hadn’t been paying close attention, he would have barreled right into her. Instead, though, he stumbled to a stop and met her wide, green stare.

“Should fate see fit to bring us together again, we’ll have to try them,” she said simply, and then she spun again and was off.

Their journey felt short despite the fact that Matthias was sure they’d walked well over a mile now, though he figured it only felt that way because of Nina’s endless chatter. It filled the space and time in a way that Matthias’s own thoughts could never.

“We’re here,” she announced finally, leading Matthias to a wooden door pressed into the side of a brick wall. She gave the door a few brisk knocks, then waited.  In fact, they waited so long that Matthias had just opened his mouth to ask what the problem was when the door swung inward with a creak.  A plump woman with braids down her back smiled widely at Nina.

“Miss Nina,” she cooed pleasantly. “Perfect timing! They were just asking me about you.  And I see you’ve brought some backup with you this time.”

Both women turned their eyes onto Matthias, and he felt himself shrink a bit under their gaze.  He offered a polite nod in return, though it didn’t appear that either of them were impressed by the gesture.

“Yes,” Nina responded, amused.  She turned back to the opened door. “He’s visiting the city, and I wanted to show him that maybe this place isn’t as bad as people make it out to be.”

The woman chuckled lowly and held the door open wider.  “Then by all means, come inside.  The kids are all upstairs. Since there’s two of you today, could you ask Sania to come down and help me with the laundry instead?”

“Sure,” Nina agreed, heading for the narrow staircase just inside the door.  Matthias felt lost, but he somehow felt safer in Nina’s care than the woman’s behind him, so he hurried after the thief.

“What is this place?” he asked, and though his tone was low, it echoed in the tiny stairwell. 

Nina chuckled. “Patience, Matthias.  Isn’t that one of your soldier virtues?”

He said nothing in return to that. 

At the top of the stairs, Nina shoved another door open, and light spilled over both of them.  On the other side of the door, white tables sat spread around a large room, and each table was covered in papers, pencils, and a wide array of crayons and books. There were two of three children of various ages at each table, and every single one of their heads snapped up at the sound of a door opening.

“Nina!” A small girl cheered. She leapt from her seat and raced forward, throwing herself at Nina’s legs.  The thief giggled quietly, and Matthias had to actively remind himself that the sound was not cute. A few of the other small children hurried over, and Matthias’s eyes widened a bit at their eagerness.

As they all began to chatter at once, another woman approached.

“Thank god you’re finally here,” she said, sounding exhausted. Matthias could guess why. “They’d have had my head if I said ‘just a few more minutes’ one more time.”

Nina chuckled again, but her attention was quickly grasped by the children bouncing around her legs. She gave each of them attention, widening her eyes at one story, grinning at another, pouting at the next. When the bulk of them seemed content with her attention, Nina turned back to the woman.

“Desiree said she could use your help doing laundry tonight. I brought assistance, so I can handle the kids.”

The woman visibly deflated. “Oh, good.  The three musketeers over there are working on algebra tonight, and I don’t have it in me to help them.”

Matthias followed her gaze to the table in the corner housing three older children.  They each had their heads bowed to their work, but they continued to cast furtive glances at the adults standing in the doorway. 

“Matthias?” Nina asked, dragging his wavering attention back to her.  If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she looked pleased with his discomfort.  “Are you any good at math?”

Once again, his mouth seemed to be working against his own will.  “Somewhat.”

“Perfect!” the woman beside Nina sang. “How long can you stay tonight? An hour? Two?”

The question was directed at Nina, but she turned to Matthias with a raised brow.  She was giving him a choice, though he wasn’t quite sure what he was agreeing to yet.  His politeness learned from years of military training is what inevitably led him to say, “As long as you need us.”

The woman grinned and scooted past them, offering Matthias’s arm a quick squeeze as she thanked him, and then she was gone. 

Nina let out a pleased little chuckle and went to waltz away, but Matthias grabbed her arm, careful to keep his grip light.

“What is this place?” he demanded in a whisper.

“A center for refugee children,” Nina replied, her volume instantly matching his.  “I came here from Ravka about three years ago along with a bunch of other children fleeing the civil war.  I was the oldest, so I kept an eye on them during the journey.  Though, I was a little too hard headed for my own good once we arrived.  I dropped the kids off here, then went off on my own way.  I was determined to pay my way back to Ravka so I could fight in the war, but…it was a lot easier said than done.”

“You wanted to be a soldier?” Matthias asked, his brows pulled together. That was…unexpected.

“I wanted to fight for what I believed in,” Nina clarified, but Matthias didn’t understand the difference.  “But by the time I’d gotten myself situated in the city and saved enough money to return home, the war was over.”

“You could still return home,” Matthias offered, but Nina gave a short shake of her head.

“All of the children who had families left to return to have gone home already,” Nina replied. Matthias felt the unusual need to apologize, but Nina continued before he could. “The rest of us are here. Desiree and Sania take care of the kids that are left as well as they can, and I try to come by at least once a week to give the two of them a break.  There’s some volunteers who come during the week to help the kids with their homework and help babysit, but it’s hard to find people willing to get involved on the weekends. So, I spend a lot of my weekends here.”

Matthias glanced around the room again in a new light. Each of them was a parentless child, just like him, though they were not being forced to stand in rigid lines and run miles upon miles to learn every bit of military discipline there was to learn.  They were not left to their own devices after training had ended, nor did they look as exhausted as the boys under Brum’s care tended to look.  Instead, these children had someone who cared – several someones, to be exact – and that notion made something in his chest twinge painfully.

“Why did you show this to me?” His voice was barely a whisper.

Nina sighed thoughtfully and tipped her head to one side. “Because I want you to know that while I might be a lying, thieving criminal, I’m more than that, too.  Now, are you going to help with algebra homework or not?”

Matthias swallowed around something thick and heavy in his throat. It would be so easy to turn and walk out of this place, out of Nina Zenik’s life, back to his own.  But here she was…opening up a new side of herself to a stranger, letting him see the inner workings of the city he had been so sure had no organization or structure whatsoever.  He should leave, he knew that, but…

He released his careful hold on Nina’s arm, and as she walked away, Matthias headed for the table in the corner. Maybe some good could come from his time in this city after all.

Chapter Text

Nearly two years ago:

“You were right,” the Fjerdan mumbled around a mouthful of food – a gesture so impolite and, therefore, out of character for a Fjerdan that Nina felt the desire to mock him for it. “These are so good.”

Nina hid her amused grin behind her coffee mug and decided against poking fun at him in this moment.  “I’m always right.  You’ll learn that eventually.”

A week ago, when she’d said fate would bring them back together again, it was one of the rare times she hadn’t expected herself to be right.  However, she’d been on her way to grab breakfast this morning when she’d ran face first – literally…again – into the visiting Fjerdan, and she’d figured fate was in fact playing it’s hand once more. So, she’d held true to her previous promise and offered to buy him the best waffles he’d ever eat.  It only took a few moments of scowling before he had agreed.

Now, Matthias shoveled the last chunk of syrup soaked waffle into his mouth, swallowed, and then sat back in his booth with a quiet groan.

“What’s the matter?” Nina asked pityingly.  With her last bite of waffle, she sopped up the remaining syrup on her own plate.

“I feel like I need to go lie down,” the hulking Fjerdan complained.  Nina couldn’t help but chuckle at that as she took her last bite. It was strange to see Matthias in this way – his guard dropped, his stomach full, his mind quieted. For a moment, Nina could convince herself that he was as human as she was.

“Please don’t tell me that the mighty Fjerdan soldier is going to be taken out by a little stomach ache.”

Matthias groaned softly again. “We don’t eat much sugar in Fjerda.”

“I can’t believe that I’m the first person to find the Fjerdan military’s biggest weakness:  sugar.  If the enemy pours molasses onto the battlefield, you’ll all be done for.”

Matthias seemed displeased with this scenario, but his reply was interrupted when the waitress returned with the check.  Nina stacked a few bills on top of the plastic tray and handed it back to the waitress.

When they were alone again, Matthias ventured, “So, did fate bring us back together today just so I could try waffles for the first time?”

“Surely that’s one reason,” Nina insisted. “Now you know what you’ve been missing all these years.”

“Surely,” Matthias repeated, and Nina thought she caught the slightest upward tug of his lips.

“Or,” she pressed, leaning forward onto her elbows. “Maybe I’m just not quite done showing you the good side of this city.”

Matthias looked skeptical. “There’s more?”

“Of course there’s more,” Nina stated.  “How busy are you today?”

“I’m supposed to be reading the textbook for my lessons…”

Nina made a face of disgust. “And…how do we feel about not doing that today?”

Seemingly torn, Matthias hesitated.  He must have come to a conclusion, though, because a few seconds later he muttered, “Fine.  Just for a little while.”

Somehow, without either of their permission or notice, ‘a little while’ turned into ‘all day’.  It started with Nina dragging Matthias behind her into a small, local art gallery – tucked into a small building at the corner of a busy street that was so nondescript, they would have passed right by it had Nina not been directing him.  Then, she hauled him to a museum of Kerch history, which held Matthias’s interest much tighter than the paintings had.  In fact, Nina found herself having to pause and wait for him several times.  Next, they walked side by side through a rather extensive botanical garden that had been planted on the outskirts of the city – close enough to the busy streets to encourage foot traffic, but far enough that the flowers were not trampled by rushing locals and ignorant tourists.  After that, Nina and Matthias chuckled about the strange couple they’d spotted on the street as the two headed for the largest animal shelter in town, where they inevitably spent the next hour and a half volunteering.

When they finally stepped back out onto the Ketterdam streets once more, Nina was giggling.  “I thought you were going to take the little gray one home with you.”

To Nina’s astonishment, Matthias smiled.  It was a soft, gentle gesture, at war with everything else about him.  So much so that it made her footsteps falter before she caught herself staring and looked away.

“I never had a pet in Fjerda,” he admitted, shortening his stride a hair to keep pace with Nina. “We had wolves but…they were soldiers too, not companions.”

“I think you might have been a cat person in another life,” Nina said, still chuckling at the mental image of Matthias sitting uncomfortably cross-legged on the floor with a horde of kittens fighting over space in his lap. 

“In another life, perhaps,” Matthias spoke with a sigh.  Then, he slowed to a stop, and Nina followed suit. “I should be getting back. The professor will be worried.”

Nina knew that she should simply nod and take a step back, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.  In fact, something desperate clutched at her chest, and she felt the inexplicable need to keep him near – just for a little longer.

“There’s one more thing I want to show you,” she insisted, almost like her mouth was moving without her brain’s permission.  When Matthias opened his mouth to argue, Nina pressed, “I’ll buy you dinner!  This last place is important.  Please?”

Maybe Matthias felt sorry for her, or maybe he was intrigued by the prospect of free food, or maybe he – like Nina – felt some unexplained pull to stay.  Whatever the reason, he agreed, though it was after several beats of uncomfortable silence.

Nina had never been a particularly nervous person. In fact, she prided herself on her ability to keep her chin high in new and uncomfortable situations.  Which is why it was exceptionally strange that she found herself feeling suddenly awkward in Matthias’s presence. Even the menial tasks of ordering take-out and climbing into her car to travel to their final destination left her feeling fidgety.  She couldn’t figure out where to keep her hands, her hair felt constantly out of place, and an unusual wave of nerves left her foot shaking. 

It was impossible for her to know what had changed.  She’d spent the entire day with Matthias and hadn’t once found herself floundering in his presence, and yet now, pulling her car off of the road ten miles outside of the city, Nina could barely bring herself to look across the center console at him.

She hated whatever it was he was doing to her.  Or, at least, she hated it at first.  She hated it as they climbed out of her car, hated it as she stretched an old blanket out onto the thin strip of grass nearby, hated it as her fingers fumbled to open the take-out containers. 

Her hatred for whatever curse he’d put on her softened into a general distaste as they ate, sharing quiet comments about the things they’d seen and done during their day together. 

And then, at last, when all the take-out containers had been cleared away and they sat side by side – Nina with her legs drawn up to her chest, Matthias with his outstretched, his hands bracing his weight behind him – Nina felt any animosity towards him begin to dissolve completely. 

This had always been one of her favorite places to visit whenever life in Ketterdam felt a little too…real.  She’d drive out here, park her car in the tiny gravel pull-off spot, and stare up at the sky until the world felt okay again.  The city itself was too bright, too loud, so the only place that Nina could see the stars – the only place that she could remind herself how small and insignificant each shitty day really was – was here. 

And, so, when Matthias gazed up at the sky beside her and began to point out the clusters of stars that she’d spent so many nights staring at on her own, she found herself relaxing in his presence once more. He drew the shapes of the stars with his hand carefully, like he was worried his touch might rip apart the sky if he weren’t gentle, and spoke each constellations names in his native tongue. 

Nina listened, and when his voice grew quiet, she took over, telling Matthias the Ravkan versions of the same star clusters.  In Ravka, the legends were that people lived in the stars, were made from them, danced among them.  Since they were so far away from the humans watching them, they tended to find themselves caught in debaucherous acts, and Nina told each story with a grin on her face, already knowing that Matthias would disapprove. 

Instead, though, when she turned to face him after her last tale, she found him staring at her not with disgust, but with intrigue.

“What?” she asked.  “Are Ravkan stories too much for you?”

Matthias shook his head.  Without really answering her, he said, “You are not what I expected.”

“I try to defy expectations as often as I can,” Nina teased.  Then, more serious, she added,  “You aren’t exactly what I expected either.”

“Can I say something strange?”

Nina hummed her consent.

“To be honest, I’m not really sure what to expect from myself anymore.  By all accounts, I should hate you, but I just…can’t bring myself to actually feel that way.”  Matthias paused, and his eyes met Nina’s for a moment before skittering away.  “Maybe you were right.  Maybe it is fate that keeps bringing us together.  Maybe we aren’t quite done with each other yet.”  

The air was chilly here, especially after nightfall, but Nina was not convinced that the breeze was the reason a shiver shook through her. 

“What else is there for us to do, then, Matthias?”

His eyes met hers, held strong there for a full breath, and then dropped to her lips.  Seemingly distraught by the idea his mind had conjured against his will, Matthias turned his head to the heavens again, though his cheeks were pink and his jaw was tense as he did.  Nina knew that she should back down.  That would be the wise thing to do, the responsible thing.  However, something about the sharp line of Matthias’s jaw and the desperate way he was glaring at the stars made her feel very, very irresponsible. 

“Matthias.”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you look like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to kiss me, but you’re trying very hard not to.”

He refused to look at her.  “I do not.”

“Do not what?  Look like that, or want to kiss me?”

Matthias held his tongue, but his silence spoke more than any words could have. 

Nina, against all her better judgement, pressed, “Have you ever kissed anyone, Matthias?”

He swallowed heavily.  “We are not allowed to be distracted by girls while in the military academy.”

“Are you saying that I’m a distraction?” Nina asked, purposefully ignoring the fact that he didn’t answer her question.

“Very much so,” Matthias mumbled, his voice quiet and resigned. 

Silence enveloped them both, then.  As Matthias stared at the sky, Nina stared at him, wondering how in the hell she’d ended up here – uncharacteristically desperate for a kiss from the man whose wallet she’d stolen nearly a month ago.  What the hell had he done to her? How had she not noticed it happening until it was too late?

“I would let you,” she announced eventually. 

Matthias finally turned to face her then, though a confused scowl now twisted his features.  “Let me what?”

“Kiss me.”

Nina had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smirking at the way Matthias’s eyes instantly widened. 

“No,” Matthias said quickly, giving a firm shake of his head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” she asked, tipping her head to the side.  She hadn’t realized just how close they were to one another until now.  So close that their shoulders nearly touched.  So close that she could hear the tiny hitch in his breathing as his eyes dipped to her lips then back up again. 

“It isn’t…allowed.”

“Who says we always have to do what’s allowed?” Nina whispered teasingly, leaning forward a bit.  Matthias tensed, but did not lean away.  “Besides, who’s going to know? Right now, there’s just you, me, and the stars, and they can keep a secret better than people can.”

Matthias inhaled, slowly, deeply.  He was quiet for so long that Nina felt sure she’d lost him, and she had just begun to lean away when he reached out.  Long fingers slid past her cheek and disappeared into her hair, tugging her closer.  This time, it was Nina’s turn for her breath to halt as Matthias held her still, a mere inch away from his own face.  In the moonlight, the blue of his eyes seemed heavenly, divine. 

When he kissed her, he kept his lips carefully closed, a firm press of softness against her own that was there and gone within the same breath.  Nina waited, eyes still closed, but more never came.  Slowly, she cracked open one eye. 

Matthias was still holding her in place, but his brows were drawn together in worry.  “I don’t know how to do this.”

If Nina hadn’t found him so godawfully endearing at that moment, she might have laughed at him.  Instead, she simply shrugged and whispered, “It’s alright.  You’ll learn.”

“Will I?” he asked, genuinely curious. 

Nina nodded, pressing herself forward to close the short distance between them.  “Yes.  I’ll help you.”

“Did you always want to be a spy?”

The Wraith, who’d barely spoken a word all day, turned a curious and vaguely annoyed look Nina’s way. “We’re supposed to be watching the club, not talking.”

“I’m perfectly capable of multi-tasking,” Nina argued.  “Are you?”

The other girl did not respond, and Nina leveled a huff of irritation.  It had been like this all day long.  The Wraith was a small, quiet thing, and she was just as dark and mysterious as her name suggested.  Nina had been picking at her edges all day, posing questions to try to get to know the girl better, to understand her role in all of this, but all she ever got in response was a silent glare or a hissed ‘shh!’ without so much as a glance in her direction. 

It had been The Wraith’s choice to set up their stake out here – atop the roof of the building directly across the street from The Crow Club.  Nina had voiced her distaste for the high vantage point, but by the time she’d finished speaking, The Wraith was halfway up the fire escape.  With no choice other than to follow, Nina had obliged, though it was a challenge to clearly inspect the faces of all those entering and exiting The Crow Club from this distance.

This was especially true now as night began to fall.  Darkness brought Ketterdam to life, and the streets that had been easy enough to inspect during the slow traffic of the day began to turn crowded and chaotic.  So, Nina settled for looking at the illusive woman at her side. 

There was something strangely off-putting about the girl.  Even on the roof, she kept her hood pulled up around her face, hiding from god-knows-what. Beneath the hood, there was a steadiness, a strength that said the girl was capable of carrying triple her bodyweight on those narrow, rigid shoulders.  Underneath all of that, though, were secrets, ones that Nina intended to uncover herself if no one else wished to question someone as legendary as The Wraith.

So, when she tried to start a conversation again, she skipped all pleasantries and went straight to the point.  “Why are you working with Kaz Brekker?”

“I thought we said we should be focusing on our task.”

Nina shrugged. “I can’t get a good look at anyone from this far away between the crowds and the glare of the streetlights.  Might as well have a little icebreaker.  So, I’ll ask again - why are you working with Kaz?”

“Does it matter?” The Wraith asked, already looking exasperated.

“Kaz doesn’t make partnerships with outsiders,” Nina explained, voice carefully calm despite the suspicion inside her that’d been brewing since last night.  “You are the first and only exception.”

“I’m flattered,” The Wraith mumbled sarcastically.

Nina ignored her. “I want to know why.  Why is he pulling you in for a job that does not involve you in any way?  Why is he letting you come and go from his apartment? Why is he trusting you at all?”

“He doesn’t trust me,” The Wraith answered.  “We just…have a mutual understanding.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning it is between Brekker and myself,” The Wraith snapped, her tone suddenly sharp as a blade. “If he wanted you to know, he’d have told you.”

Nina rolled her eyes with practiced precision and turned to square her body at the other woman.  “Since you seem so keen in side-stepping the real question, let me be frank.  Your entire existence in this city is based around your ability to steal secrets.  You collect them, horde them, and then use them to cut down powerful men.  The only reason that Kaz would ever agree to work with someone like you is if he were trying to protect himself.  So, again, why are you working with Kaz?  What do you have on him that you’re holding over his head?”

“Nothing,” The Wraith hissed, her shoulders tense. “Brekker’s secrets are buried far deeper than even I can dig.”

Nina decided not to comment on the fact that The Wraith sounded entirely too disappointed about that, and instead pressed on with, “Then what’s the deal?  Kaz would never-“

“You presume to know a lot about what he would or wouldn’t do,” The Wraith interrupted.  “If you’re worried about this alliance, maybe you take it up with your boss.”

“I could,” Nina shrugged. “But I’m asking you.”

The Wraith finally twisted her head in Nina’s direction, though the shadow of her hood made it hard to tell if she was looking at Nina or through her. 

“Brekker came to me for help looking into Haskell,” she started, speaking slow and calculated. “In return, I asked for help dealing with a problem of my own.  That is the beginning and end of our business deal.”

Nina narrowed her eyes in suspicion.  It didn’t make sense.  Kaz hated outsiders – he barely trusted his own men in The Dregs, why would he trust a stranger?  - and The Wraith was as nerve-wrackingly mysterious as they came.  So why would he make a deal with her in the first place?  Why would he follow through with it? 

Kaz Brekker doesn’t do anything without a reason, Nina reminded herself, and then she asked, “What kind of problem do you need help with?”

“The kind that is none of your business.  Listen, as cute as it is that you’re worried about your friend, I promise you that I want nothing from Brekker beyond the extent of our deal.  Until we’ve both paid our dues, I’d like to just keep my head down and my mouth shut, please.”

There was a desperate note in that last word, and despite the fact that Nina barely knew The Wraith, she found that she believed her.  It wouldn’t be the first time that someone used Kaz for his power or his brains or his reach within the city, and it surely wouldn’t be the last.

With a quiet grumble, she stated, “I’m not worried about Kaz.  In fact, he’s not my friend.  I don’t even like the bastard half the time.”

“Yet you work for him anyway,” The Wraith stated smugly.

“So do you.”

“I do not work for Brekker,” The Wraith snapped, quick as a whip.  “I made a single deal with him, and I agreed to work with him and this team until our deal is complete.  As soon as that’s done, I’m washing my hands of him and leaving this city.”

“Running away, are you?”

“No,” she replied, the venom in her voice ebbing away into something more dismal. “Running home.”

“You don’t seem too happy about that.”

The Wraith shrugged. “I haven’t been there in years.  Who knows what might be different now…god knows I’ve changed enough as it is.”

Nina tipped her head to the side as she listened to the slowly softening edge in the girl’s tone. “Where is home?”

“Do you always ask this many questions?” The Wraith quipped.

“I’m afraid so.”

With a heaving sigh, The Wraith relented. “Ravka.”

“Ravka?” Nina exclaimed, and any worries she might have had about the woman beside her dissolved in an instant.  The Wraith, however, jolted a bit at the sudden volume of Nina’s voice, so Nina toned it down as she continued, “I’m from Ravka, too – just outside Os Alta.  Where did you grow up?”

“Nowhere specific. I’m Suli.”

“Oh, interesting,” Nina cooed.  “My parents took me to see a Suli circus once when I was a girl.”

The Wraith tipped her head, and Nina couldn’t miss the way her shoulders began to relax just a touch.  “Did you like it?”

“I loved it,” Nina spoke with a smile.  “Everything and everyone looked so stunning, so surreal.  It felt like I was dreaming the entire time.”

The Wraith released a small sound that was not quite a laugh, but the closest to it that Nina had heard from her so far.  “I used to perform in them, and I always felt like I was dreaming, too.”

“Did you really? What did you do?”

“My specialty was the tightrope,” she explained, voice filled with reverence. “I loved being in the air, feeling the wind holding me up, nothing but myself and my thoughts and a few dozen feet of empty space between the ground and me.”

“That…sounds horrifying,” Nina remarked honestly. 

“It was beautiful,” The Wraith corrected.

Nina, for reasons she couldn’t comprehend, understood The Wraith’s meaning entirely.

“Why did you come here, then?”

In an instant, The Wraith turned dark and rigid all over again.  Whatever solace she’d found in their conversation disappeared like an exhale, and when she spoke again, her tone was wickedly sharp and pointed.

“We should be keeping our attention on the club.  We probably missed something already.”

A sudden chill cut between the two women as The Wraith turned away, and Nina felt whatever progress she’d been making slip through her fingers. She was considering trying to return to the topic of the circus when her phone began to ring in her pocket.

Kaz’s name flashed across the screen, and she swiped to answer. 

“Yeah?”

“I need you to come pick us up,” Kaz demanded.  Nina’s phone buzzed against her ear again as he said, “I just sent you the address.”

Nina made a face. “What happened to your car?”

“It’s full of bullet holes,” Kaz said by way of explanation.

Nina didn’t want to think about why her blood ran cold at those words. She tried to speak through the sudden onslaught of panic that seized her.  “What? Are…is Matthias…did he…”

“Don’t worry, Zenik, the Fjerdan is safe and unharmed,” Kaz interrupted her stammering.

Relief flooded through her so quickly it nearly took her off her feet, but she wasn’t prepared to unpack the reason behind that yet.  Instead, she let her irritation take the front seat once again.

“Can’t Jesper do it?” she asked.  “I speak for all of us when I say you do not want to put Matthias and me in the same car again.”

Kaz tsked in return.  “Unfortunately, there are much bigger problems at hand right now than whatever tension is brewing between you and Helvar. The two of you can worry about finding the best ways to avoid each other once I’m back in my own home.”  Then, after a breath, “The Wraith still with you?”

“Yes, she’s right here,” Nina answered, her brows pulling together.  The Wraith’s interest was piqued then, and she twisted a questioning look toward Nina. “Why?”

“Put her on,” Kaz instructed.

Brow still furrowed, Nina held the phone out to the other woman in offering, offering a whispered explanation -“It’s Kaz.”

The Wraith accepted the phone with clear reluctance.  As she pressed it to her ear, she huffed a sigh and acknowledged, “Brekker.”

For several long moments, The Wraith listened.  She did not, however, speak, until Kaz reached the end of whatever monologue he’d been spilling, and then she mumbled, “Got it.”

Nina hoped Kaz was finished because The Wraith immediately passed the phone back to Nina.  A quick glance at the screen showed that the call had already ended. She turned a questioning look toward The Wraith.

The Wraith, who’d been seated for most of the day, stood suddenly.  She eyed Nina from beneath her hood, then shrugged and replied, “Ask your boss.”

In the time it took for Nina to roll her eyes, The Wraith was gone – vanished into thin air as if she’d never really been there to begin with.

Nina couldn’t fight off an involuntary shiver as she said out loud, “Fucking creepy.”

And then, with nothing left to stall herself with, Nina made her way to the fire escape.  The entire way down, she tried not to think about the awkward tension that was sure to force its way into her mind again the second she was trapped in the same car as Matthias again.  She had half a mind to lock Matthias out of the car and let him walk home from wherever he and Kaz were hiding out, but she knew that when it came down to it, she wouldn’t be able to do something as cruel as that. After all, the sheer mention of Matthias being near gunshots had sent her into an inexplicable panic only minutes before - she wouldn't be able to bear the thought of him alone on the Ketterdam streets at night.  Despite everything he’d done, every hurtful word he’d thrown her way and every old would he’d reopened without remorse, she didn’t have it in her to truly punish him in return.  In fact, it was taking all of her willpower already to just stay away from him.

She hated herself for that.  She also hated that she knew one thing was infuriatingly true:  she knew that she would let Matthias ruin her again and again…no matter how much it hurt, and no matter how disappointed she’d be in herself every single time. So, with that thought in mind, she made her way to her car, added the address Kaz had sent her to her GPS, and prepared herself as best she could for whatever might come to tear her down next.

Chapter Text

There were a few lights on in the front of Haskell’s mansion-esque home, but Inej saw no signs of life as she crept along the privacy fence, hidden under a cloak of shadows.  With the help of a particularly sturdy drain pipe and years of climbing experience, it was easy for Inej to make her way up to the roof. The moon and stars were smothered by the thick, dark clouds that always seemed to loom over the city, and the streetlights couldn’t reach her here.

Finding safety in the darkness, Inej crawled across the slanted roof without a sound, stopping when she reached the narrow, rectangular skylight cut into the ceiling above the upstairs hallway.  Inej had noticed it when she’d last snuck into Haskell’s home, and she figured it would be as good a place as any to do what Brekker had asked of her.

After giving her a brief run-down of what had happened to him and Matthias earlier in the day, Brekker had given her instructions.

“Someone didn’t want us as Haskell’s house tonight for a reason, and I need to know why,” he’d explained, voice cold and clear.  “I need you to go to Haskell’s and keep an eye on the house until Haskell turns in for the night.  If anyone comes or goes, I need to know. Anyone…got it?”

Inej’s agreement had been instantaneous.  After all, she’d promised him she’d do anything it took to earn his help.  It was a promise that she regretted the moment it was past her lips, but a promise nonetheless.  Inej was many things now, but she was still not the type of person who couldn’t hold up her end of the bargain. 

As she lay down on her stomach, close enough to the skylight to see inside without risking anyone spotting her from the hallway below, Inej found herself wondering idly what in the hell she was doing here.  How she had wound up hidden away on a gang boss’s roof with orders from Kaz Brekker, she’d never understand.

Then again, she didn’t really understand how she’d ended up in this life at all. The facts were there in flashes – strong hands pulling her out of bed and trapping her screams behind her own lips, the swaying underbelly of a ship, roaming eyes, a glimpse of money changing hands, and then the rest she chose to forget when she could.  She knew all of that well enough, but she’d never understand.

Some nights, when she closed her eyes, she’d imagine she was still fourteen.  In those dreams, she was still a traveler, standing at her parents’ side, soaking in their tender laughs and fierce affection.  Sometimes she’d dream of waking up in their bed, as warm and happy as she could ever remember being.  Sometimes she’d dream of racing around the Suli camp until she’d wrapped each family member in the longest, tightest hug under the burn of the Ravkan sun. Sometimes she simply dreamed of watching her mother’s back as she hunched over the kitchen counter, preparing a meal that would feed half the camp while her father prattled along beside Inej about whatever topic came to his mind, and Inej would smile contentedly and close her eyes.

But then she’d wake.  She’d wake, and suddenly the weight of Ketterdam would be crushing her throat once again.  She’d wake to the chill of a damp city and shiver at the fading memory of her family’s warmth.  She’d wake and find hot tears on her cheek, and then she’d sit up and force away any more thoughts of her family until the next night, and then she’d do it all over again.

Sleep. Dream. Mourn.  That had been the cycle of Inej’s life for the past seven years, ever since she’d been trapped here.

She wondered idly what her mother and father would think if they could see her now, plastered on a rooftop as midnight rapidly approached, eyes and ears open to soak up the secrets that didn’t belong to her.  Nina had been right – her entire existence in this city depended on her ability to take what wasn’t rightfully hers.

Would her parents be proud of what she’d done in order to survive, or would they be disappointed that she hadn’t tried just a little bit harder to keep a grip on her humanity?

Before Inej could dwell on that thought long enough to cause any harm, the sound of a car door slamming in front of the house brought her attention back to the task at hand.  She heard the faint rap of knuckles against the front door, and then all was quiet.  It stayed that way until the faintest thump of footsteps could be heard from the staircase inside the house that was just outside the edge of her view.

A voice, muffled by both the distance and the glass, asked, “All went well today, I’m assuming?”

Interesting accent, Inej noted, though she still couldn’t see any figures yet to know who the voice belonged to.

“Of course,” another voice responded, lacking the same accent as the first.  Haskell, if Inej had to guess.  Everyone in Ketterdam spoke in sharp twists and turns, their language as rushed and short as their lives in this city. 

“Any trouble from Brekker?” the first voice asked.

Inej’s brows furrowed at the mention, and she pressed herself as flat as she could get.  Shadows stretched themselves long and narrow along the carpeted ground before the stairs, and Inej held her breath as the figures made their way to her.

“None.  Just got off the phone with him, actually.  We’re meeting in an hour, so I’m afraid you and I will have to make this quick.”

“Fine,” the voice replied, and something in Inej’s brain clicked into place.  She’d heard that accent before – last night in Brekker’s apartment.  “I would like to assume I don’t need to remind you to be discreet about this, yes?”

“Of course you don’t,” Haskell replied, and then the two men finally emerged from the stairs.  Haskell was easy enough to recognize once she saw him in the faint light emanating from a lamp somewhere nearby.  The other man, though, was a stranger.  Their positioning left his back to Inej as the two men stopped to speak at the top of the stairs.  From here, Inej could tell that he was tall and lean with broad, rigid shoulders that gave him an air of authority despite the fact that he was talking to who was, arguably, the most powerful gang leader in all of Ketterdam.  His long blonde hair sat straight and neat over his back, not a single strand out of place.

“Good,” he said, his accent more pronounced now that he was closer. “How has Erik been settling into your ranks?”

Haskell waved a dismissive hand.  “He’s fine.  My crew is still a little wary of an outsider, but he’s put in an effort to fit in with the rest of them.  He’s been around long enough now that the others are used to his face.”

“Excellent. Then I think it’s time we move on to the next step in this process.”

Haskell shifted his weight between his feet, an oddly nervous move for someone of his status. “Already?  Erik is still fairly new.  I don’t know that my crew will-”

“They will,” the blonde interrupted sharply. “You’ll make sure they will.”

Haskell sighed, and it sounded like defeat.  “Of course. Let’s go to my office. We can hammer out the last few details there.”

As they turned, Inej pulled her phone from her pocket.  When the two men passed underneath the skylight, Inej snapped a quick photo.  It was blurry, so she tried again. This time, though, as soon as she lifted the phone, the blonde man’s eyes snapped up and locked with hers.

Her breath froze in her throat, and she twisted away from the skylight so sharply that she slammed her elbow against the frame hard enough to bruise.  Her heart was pounding so loud that she barely heard the accented voice calmly mutter, “Alert your security that there’s a woman on the roof.”

There was a breath of surprised silence before Haskell called out something that might have been an instruction, but Inej didn’t stick around long enough to process the words. Instead, she snatched up her phone and set off across the roof at top speed.

The only thing she regretted was the fact that Haskell found solace living in the suburbs, which meant that the houses were just far enough apart that there were no rooftops for her to easily speed across.  Instead, she was forced to find her way back towards the ground.  Shouts had just begun to rise inside the house as she swung out over the edge of the roof, clinging onto the gutter as her only source of support.

There were three stories between her and the ground, which was a bit father than Inej typically liked to freefall. Besides, a quick glance below revealed a pile of abandoned gardening equipment, so Inej’s mind began brewing up a new plan.

About ten feet away, Inej saw another drainpipe – just like the one she’d used to shimmy up to the roof.  With practiced ease, Inej took a deep breath and began to shift herself to the left, heading for that escape route as the chorus of voices grew inside the house.

She didn’t see the man with the gun until she’d heard the telltale click of the weapon being cocked.  Her head whipped to the right with a gasp, he leveled a pistol at her, and Inej only had half a breath to consider before she let go of the gutter.  As she began to fall, the bullet meant for her embedded itself into the foundation of the house right beneath where she’d been only a second before.

Inej tried to remember what her father had taught her about falling.  It was less about the actual act of falling and more about making sure you could get up again.  She remembered the rules:  tuck your chin, reposition your body to land on your side - not your head or your feet – if possible, and relax.  Fall like a sack of beans, her father used to say.  Let everything go and just breathe until it’s over, and then you stand up and try again.

She was nearly successful.  Her body hit the ground with a dull thud and a quiet hiss of breath, but nothing was broken. That is, until momentum caused her to roll, and Inej found that she hadn’t gotten quite far enough away from the gardening tools piled beneath her as a pair of thick shears sliced across her calf.

She didn’t have time yet to acknowledge the pain at first.  The gunman had regrouped and was directing his weapon towards her again while three new armed men rounded the corner of the house from the opposite direction.  Inej had no time to think, so she ground her teeth against the ripping ache in her leg and scrambled to her feet, heading for the fence separating Haskell’s backyard from the neighbor’s.  A shot rang past her as she reached the wooden fence, shattering through a board less than a foot away from her hand.

Inej did not stop – she couldn’t.  The pain in her leg was making itself known now, but she bit it back and hurdled herself over the fence in record time.  With the sound of shouts and warnings falling in behind her, Inej began to run. She jumped more fences, sidestepped gardens, darted across streets and between buildings.  She kept up her pace long after she’d stopped hearing voices behind her and her chest had begun to ache for air.  It wasn’t until her leg began throbbing so powerfully that it started to give out, making her stumble a step or two, that Inej finally steered herself into a dark, empty alley and braced her back against the wall.

For the first time since she’d fallen, she risked a glance downward.  The cut was a bit deeper than she’d thought, and bright red blood spilled from the clean slice across her pant leg all the way down to her shoes.  Inej’s labored exhales left little clouds of steam in front of her face as she came to the realization that she wouldn’t be able to use the rooftops for cover on her way home as she usually did.  She was nearing the busier stretch of the city now, still far from her own apartment, and the chill of the dark, damp Ketterdam night was settling into her bones along with an undeniable but unwanted fear. On top of that, adrenaline had kept her moving up until this point, but without it, the full spectrum of pain had begun to settle into her leg. 

Without the usual advantage of being above the city, Inej would never make it across the city alone and injured. She’d been here long enough to know an easy target when she saw one, but she’d never planned on being one herself. She had no friends in the city to hole up with, and, as she’d told Nina earlier in the night, her family was still nestled comfortable on the other side of the sea.  It was with great reluctance that Inej realized she, at the very least, had an acquaintance on this side of the city, though the idea of asking for his help left a scowl of displeasure on her face.

No, she decided after a few beats of hesitation. She would not rely on anyone like Brekker just because of a little injury.  She’d keep her head down and her hands on her knives, and she’d walk home without issue. 

It was a task much easier said than done, Inej realized, because as she began to walk again, she felt fear – a cold and slimy thing – beginning to consume her.  Every silhouette was a threat, every barking dog a warning, every distant voice someone evil coming to take her.

She wasn’t sure when her feet had changed course.  They’d done so without her permission, and when Inej found herself standing outside the same apartment she’d visited last night, she paused. 

Bad idea, she thought. Brekker will chew you up and spit you out the minute you show weakness. Just turn around, and-

The sound of a car rolling to a stop behind her cut Inej’s thoughts off instantly, and she raced for the apartment building’s entrance without so much as a backwards glance. She’d never taken the traditional route into the building, but she knew she always climbed four stories, and she knew Brekker’s window was situated perfectly in the middle of the building, so she drug herself and her still gushing leg up four sets of stairs.  There were three doors on this hall, so Inej picked the one in the center with uneasy resignation.

Her knock was almost silent, as if she’d never intended for it to be heard anyway. She hesitated, glancing back towards the stairs.  Maybe she should turn back. She could brave the streets again, and if she hurried, she’d likely make it home before anyone could catch up with her.

Her leg throbbed at the thought of hurrying.

The door in front of her opened a narrow crack, just far enough for the barrel of a gun to poke out at eye level.  Any sane person would shrink away, declare their innocence, or run.  Inej, however, stood stark still, staring at the weapon with detachment in her eyes.  She was too tired to consider running at this point.

“Wraith?” a low, gravelly voice called from inside the dark apartment.  As the gun lowered, Inej breathed a sigh of relief that she’d found the correct apartment.  Brekker’s tall, pale form appeared as the crack in the door widened. “Did you forget how to get in through the window?”

He looked, for the most part, the same as he had the night before, other than the messily stitched together wound marring his cheek.  He was dressed to go out, too, despite the late hour.

Inej kept her weight carefully balanced on her good leg. “I couldn’t climb.”

Brekker’s dark, watchful gaze slipped over her like rain water.  His eyes only came to a stop when he locked in on the dark spill of blood staining the carpet beneath her left boot, and his stare lingered there as if he might be able to assess the full extent damage with his sight along.

“You couldn’t call your own taxi to the hospital?” he finally asked, letting the door fall open as he leaned against the doorframe, looking at the trail of blood behind Inej with disinterest.

“I don’t need a hospital,” Inej insisted.  “I just wanted…”

One of Brekker’s brows ticked upward.  “Wanted what?”

She realized then that she thought she hated him.  She hated him for making her say the words out loud, hated him for getting her involved in all of this in the first place, hated him for letting her get involved.  Above all that, though, she hated him for not being able to read her mind and knew that all she wanted was a place to sit still for a few minutes while she fixed up whatever damage was caused. Shouldn’t he be able to look at her and see that that was all she needed?  Or was he being purposefully obtuse just so she’d have to admit to him that she was weak and needed his help again?

Gulping down her pride, Inej began, “I need…”

“Need what, Wraith?” Brekker pressed when she paused for too long, and Inej thought she heard a teasing edge to his voice. If he cared about the way she glared at him afterwards, he didn’t show it. 

“I need someplace to rest,” Inej admitted regretfully.

Brekker’s answer came without pause. “No one stays in my apartment.”

“I’m not asking to stay,” Inej snapped, her already existent irritation with him exacerbated by the growing pain in her leg. “I’m asking for a place to patch up. An hour, tops.”

“You’re saying you need my help,” he clarified smugly.  Inej’s lips curled in further distaste.

“I’m saying that I got injured working a job for you, and I’d like five minutes to clean up before I trek across this city.”

Brekker let out a long, slow sigh, and Inej counted the pulsing throb in her calf five times before he answered, “You know, I’m not really in the habit of taking in strays, and yet here you-”

“Kaz!” Inej interrupted sharply, a sneer on her face.  His words cut off instantly, and discomfort painted his features.  Inej only had a second to wonder what had happened before she realized her mistake.  She snapped her own lips shut and swallowed around her own displeasure at the way his first name tasted on her lips. 

Brekker considered her for a long moment.  Whatever conversation taking place inside his own head was a mystery to Inej, but eventually he took a step back and held the door open without a word.  Inej stepped hesitantly forward into the dark living room, but she could see the light in his bedroom was on in the distance.  She wondered absently if he’d been working when she’d shown up.

“Bathroom,” he instructed simply.  “I assume you remember where it is?”

Though his tone was sarcastic, Inej offered him a solemn nod and headed for the hallway.  She’d only made it a few limping steps past him when he added, “I’ll be right back. Don’t touch anything.”

Inej rolled her eyes, but gave a weak thumbs up over her shoulder. In the bathroom, she went to the shower, shoved the plain black curtain out of her way with more force than was strictly necessary, and sat down on the lip of the tub with her injured leg inside the basin.

Both her sock and her shoe were stuck to her with the tackiness of her own blood, but she managed to peel them both away.  Then, with as much care as she could manage, she rolled her pants leg up to reveal the spilling wound.  The worst of the bleeding seemed to be over, but the wound itself was still gnarly.  Inej was prodding at the skin around the cut and wincing quietly when she heard Kaz return and close the front door behind him.

When he reached the bathroom, he said nothing about how Inej had commandeered the bathtub, and instead he simply handed her a box heavily decorated with painted flowers and birds.  She raised a brow. 

“Nina’s,” Kaz explained. “She had some medic training at one point or another, and she keeps stocked up on medical supplies for when shit goes down.” 

Inej said nothing. She opened the box and found that it was, indeed, well stocked.

“If you need her help, I can go-”

“I don’t.  Need her help, I mean. Or yours.”

“You did need my apartment, though,” Kaz argued, but the look she sent him was clearly enough to cut off the rest of his arrogance. Inej was thankful for this.  Though, when Kaz failed to leave her alone in the bathroom and instead planted himself in the doorway, one shoulder leaning against the frame as he folded his arms across his chest, Inej regretted letting herself end up here.

Inej managed to ignore him for the most part, and as she set to work cleaning and wrapping the wound on her leg, Kaz watched on with vague disinterest from across the room.  It’s an expression that Inej, oddly, finds she doesn’t hate.  Kaz, it would seem, didn’t want anything from her other than her skill.  His concern in this moment revolved around whether or not she could still deliver on her end of the bargain.  His presence in this bathroom was as close to patience as he’d ever get as he waited for her to explain what had happened at Haskell’s. Neither of them spoke for a long while because neither of them felt the urge to fill the silence with useless words.

“What happened at Haskell’s?” Kaz finally asked, being the first to broach the quiet.

Inej fought to get her words in the right order, wrapping her calf in a thick layer of gauze.  “Haskell was having some meeting with a foreigner - tall guy with the same accent as the big blonde one from last night.”

“Fjerdan,” Kaz mused, and Inej shrugged.

“He was asking Haskell questions about whether you’d given him any trouble today, encouraged Haskell to be discreet when he meets with you tonight, and then they were discussing moving forward with ‘the next step’ with some guy named Erik.”

Kaz’s brows drew together just a bit. “Erik’s a new Dregs recruit, only a couple months in. That doesn’t make any sense.”

He might have just been talking out loud, but Inej still replied, “That’s all I heard before they spotted me.”

“I thought The Wraith didn’t get spotted.  Isn’t that the whole point?”

Inej worked her jaw.  Usually, it was, but this time it was like he knew to look for her.  It made Inej’s stomach churn uncomfortably.  “This time I did.”

“What was different this time?”

Inej rolled her eyes and began fixing her pants back into place over the thick gauze.  “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does when it could have gotten you killed.  Or, worse, captured.”

“How is captured worse than killed?”

Kaz shrugged lightly. “Dead people can’t share any secrets they’ve learned about me.”

Inej's only reply was a heaving sigh.  She didn't bother wasting the breath promising she wouldn't use his secrets against him. She had no real allegiance to the man standing on the other side of the room, and he knew that, which is why he didn't trust her to begin with. That was for the best, really. 

Kaz held his silence for a while, watching on with disinterest as Inej turned the water on to wash the blood out of her sock and the inside of her boot. 

“I’d like to propose another deal.”

“One deal with you is more than enough already.”

“Hear me out,” Kaz said easily, casually. 

Inej rolled her eyes. “Hurry, then.”

“A secret for a secret.”

“What?”

“A secret for a secret,” he repeated.  “You can ask me a question, and I’ll give you the truth.  Then, I get to ask you a question in return, and you’ll give me the same.”

Inej stared at the red water collecting around the drain.  “What if there’s nothing I want from you?”

“Surely there’s something,” Kaz argued.  “Don’t you want to know the deepest, darkest secrets of the scariest man in the Barrel?  I’m sure they’d make a good bargaining chip should you ever find yourself in a bind.”

“I wouldn’t say you’re the scariest.  The most annoying? Perhaps.  Most arrogant? Definitely. But scariest…I’m unconvinced.”

Kaz kept quiet for a moment. “You didn’t say no.”

Inej bit her lip because he was right. She hadn’t, but she knew she should.  The last thing she needed was a man like Brekker prying open her head, digging around for answers she wasn’t willing to give, not to mention what the consequence might be if she ever lied to him.  She didn’t bother asking herself if Brekker could be trusted - she knew that the answer was no, and yet…

“If you think Haskell is a bad leader, why don’t you just start your own gang instead of trying to take away his? You’ve clearly got the brains for it.”

When Kaz didn’t immediately answer, Inej lifted her eyes to meet his. She held her gaze there, unwavering. It was as close to a yes as he was going to get, and if he chose to answer then the deal would be sealed.

“I built myself from the ground up once already,” Kaz finally offered, speaking slowly as if considering each word before they left his lips. “I don’t relish the idea of having to do it again.”

Inej’s brows came together. “What does that mean?”

Brekker tsked. “You only get one question at a time, Wraith.”

“Fine,” she spoke with a sigh.  “Go on then.”

Kaz only held her gaze a moment longer before his eyes dropped to the floor at his feet. He was thinking, she realized. Choosing the wording of his own question as carefully as possible.  Inej swallowed as panic began to rise like a wave inside her.  He was going to ask about her need to be involved in all of this. He was going to ask about Heleen. He was going to ask why her hands were shaking. He was going to-

“What’s your name?”

Inej stared at him. “That’s what you’re using your question for?”

Kaz shrugged. “Sometimes the simplest secrets weigh the most.”

She could never tell him how the tightness in her chest relaxed at that question. It was a stupid use of his one question, but she was almost positive he knew that, too. 

She swallowed, hard. “Inej. Inej Ghafa.”

Kaz nodded thoughtfully. “Inej.”

If she weren’t already seated, Inej was sure her legs would have given out from hearing her own name on someone else’s lips for the first time since she was fourteen.  In fact, it had been so long that she’d almost forgotten it herself, had she not forced herself to remember the girl she used to be every single day.

“Right,” she forced through gritted teeth. Brekker would not know the way that this affected her. “Time for me to go.”

But as she pulled herself upright and attempted to stand on her injured leg, she felt the full weight of the night.  With a quiet curse, she stumbled, gripping onto the corner of the bathroom counter for support.  Kaz watched, but made no move to help her. 

As she steadied herself, he asked, “How far away is your place?”

“Its fine,” Inej ground out. Though, when she tried to leave again, Kaz shifted so that his shoulders filled the doorway. She glared at him violently and finally admitted, “Far.”

“I’ll drop you off on the way to my meeting with Haskell.”

It sounded more like a statement than an offer, and Inej scowled accordingly.

“No.”

“You’re no good to me if you injure yourself any further.”

Inej scowled. “Right. I forgot my only value was being a pawn for you.”

“You made your deal with me because you need someone dead and you know I don’t let emotions or morals cloud my decisions,” Kaz stated simply.  “If you’re going to use me for that fact, you can’t also condemn me for it.” 

Inej ran her tongue over her teeth. She knew he was right, but she’d never admit that.  Instead, she said, “Fine, but we’d better hurry.  I heard Haskell say he was meeting you in an hour, and that was easily forty-five minutes ago.”

Kaz finally moved out of her way and gestured for her to go first. “Whatever you say, Wraith.”

Chapter Text

Only a block away from where he first met The Wraith, Kaz slowed the borrowed car – Nina’s – to a stop.  The ghost of a girl beside him reached for the handle to let herself out, but her hand faltered in midair just before reaching the door.

“I nearly forgot,” she mumbled, dropping her hand to her pocket.  It was the first thing either of them had said the entire drive that wasn’t the words left or right barked only seconds before they reached the turn. “I managed to get a picture of the guy at Haskell’s tonight.”

Kaz gave her a questioning look.  “And you forgot to mention this because…”

“Because I was a little preoccupied with the whole ‘blood pouring down my leg’ thing,” she explained coldly, though she didn’t look away from her phone as she spoke. Against Kaz’s best effort, he’d noticed the fact that she did this often, though he’d been trying especially hard not to notice anything about her at all. 

He was used to people in this city averting their eyes when they spoke to him either out of fear or respect.  When The Wraith did it, though, there was no fright in her eyes or admiration in her bowed head.  Instead, when she refused to look at him, he could feel her apathy, her complete disregard for the reputation he’d spent his life building, like a physical thing standing between them.  That disinterest made him squirm.  What had been the point in spending every minute of the past ten years making himself as mysterious as possible if she wasn’t even the least bit curious about him while seated only a foot away?

Several lengthy, uncomfortably quiet seconds later, she found what she was looking for and passed the phone across the center console.  When Kaz took it from her, though, his fingers lightly brushed against hers, and she jerked away from the touch instantly, as if burned. 

Kaz caught the apology balanced at the tip of his tongue before it could jump out and embarrass him, and focused his attention on the phone in his hand instead.  The photograph was blurry, but that didn’t matter. Kaz recognized the man in Haskell’s hallway with ease.

“Is this the only picture?”

If she noticed the newfound tightness in his voice, she didn’t comment on it.  “Yes. He spotted me right after this was taken.”

All he offered in reply was a curt nod, and then he began typing away on her phone.

The Wraith sat up straight, a scowl pulling her dark brows together and leaving a worried divot between them. “What’re you doing?”

“Sending this photo to myself.  It might come in handy for a few conversations I have to have tonight,” he muttered without glancing up, mimicking the stoic way she’d spoken to him only moments before. While he was already there, he added himself as a contact in her phone – just in case they needed to reach each other regarding the mission, of course – then tossed the device into her lap to avoid accidentally touching her again.

“Do you know him?” she asked as she returned her phone to her pocket.

“We’ve met.”

“Is he going to be a problem?”

Kaz leaned back in the driver’s seat with a heavy exhale. “Unfortunately.”

“Lovely,” she answered with a sigh of her own, and then she opened the door.  Again, without looking at him, she spoke. “Have fun at your meeting.” 

And then she slipped from the car, slammed the door shut, and disappeared down a darkened alley before Kaz could take a full breath.  Once again, she’d entered into his space like a shout and exited like a whisper, and it made Kaz as uncomfortable now as it had the first time.

Instead of driving away immediately, Kaz tipped his head back, closed his eyes, and sighed out the weight of the past twelve hours.  A headache had begun to thrum underneath his skull halfway through stitching his cheek closed, and it hadn’t gotten better the entire time he sat in that warehouse with Matthias.  The Fjerdan had spewed silent rage as they awaited nightfall, and his tension had been so heavy in the air that it had nearly suffocated them both.  Things had only gotten worse when Nina arrived, and Kaz let them each get in one spiteful jab before he’d turned the radio up in Nina’s car to an earsplitting volume, effectively ending the soon to be fight before it started.  The unbearably loud music had done nothing to help the pounding in Kaz’s head, but it was better than listening to another rendition of what was sure to be the same insults he’d heard them hurl at one another already.

Peace had found him once he’d made his way into his apartment, but he’d only had enough time to shower and change when he’d heard the timid knock on the door. Then she was there again, storming into his life, demanding his attention when that was never part of their deal, and yet he’d let her in anyway. 

What good is an injured spy? He’d asked himself, rationalizing his choice in the only way that made any sense in his own head.

As he finally opened his eyes and began to drive away, Kaz found himself running her name over in his mind again and again.

“Inej,” she’d said, whispering the word like she was scared to speak her own name aloud, as if the sound of it could shatter glass and shake foundations.  “Inej Ghafa.”

If Kaz had to wager a guess, he’d think it was a Suli name.  That made sense when paired with the deep bronze of her skin and the dark, nearly black, color of her eyes – the same eyes that looked like they could rip him apart if she felt keen on doing so.  Thankfully, she hadn’t yet.

Kaz was grateful that the lack of traffic made his journey back across town quick and painless.  It was late, and most of those who flocked to the casinos and clubs for entertainment or casual enjoyment had already made their way home.  What was left roaming the streets now were the men and women just like him – criminals, though each of their own unique design.

He parked easily in one of the reserved spots directly in front of The Crow Club.  While the spot didn’t technically have his name on it, it was unofficially known that this was his spot, and parking in it without his permission would warrant a new enemy.  As he got out of the borrowed car, he checked his watch with a grimace.  He’d kept Haskell waiting nearly fifteen minutes.  Five was unprofessional, ten was a waste of time, and fifteen was…well, Kaz had never been fifteen minutes late before, but he was sure Haskell had already prepared another lengthy speech on respect and integrity. 

The floor of The Crow Club was hectic at best.  There were always a dozen or more games going at once. The bar was packed, the waitresses skittering around, batting hands, and stuffing money into their tops as they went.  Kaz could understand why people might enjoy the chaos of it all, and, unfortunately, he could also understand how Jesper continuously found himself sucked into these environments.  Getting lost was easy in a place like this, and sometimes that was all Jesper wanted.

Kaz, however, managed to bypass the game tables without temptation, though he felt eyes on him as he went.  He ignored the stares and bee-lined for Haskell’s office, which was pressed into the corner behind the bar with a bruiser stationed on either side.  Neither of them paid Kaz any mind, and when he knocked, he was instantly answered with an irritated, “What?”

Kaz didn’t bother shouting back.  Instead, he shoved the door open and stepped inside as if he lived here, which he practically did.  Inside the room, Haskell sat behind a heavy desk, looking at a stack of papers that Kaz knew would eventually be handed over to him with a frustrated flourish of Haskell’s hands and an annoyed ‘you deal with it, boy’.  

And he would, just like he had for years.

“You’re late,” was the first thing Haskell said.  A fat cigar hung between his lips, filling the room with the scent of stale tobacco.

“Apologies,” Kaz stated without feeling. “I had a few issues to tend to on my way in.”

As Kaz shut the door, he felt Haskell’s eyes on him, inspecting him as if looking for the threads of a lie.  Kaz, however, had perfected the blank stare long ago, so whatever Haskell was looking for, it was hidden away beneath a smooth expression. 

“Sit,” Haskell finally said, gesturing roughly to the frail chair opposite his desk.  Kaz approached, but chose to stand in front of the seat instead. He liked this angle much better, looking down his nose at the old man.

Haskell leaned back in his own seat. “Chair not plush enough for you?”

“I’m fine standing.”

“I said sit,” Haskell commanded, his eyes narrowing to thin lines between the rows of wrinkles.  “And you still answer to me, don’t you?”

Kaz had known Haskell long enough to tell when the old man was simply cracking his whip against the ground to see Kaz flinch, and this was one of those moments.  How Haskell had yet to learn that Kaz would never flinch was beyond Kaz’s understanding, but the tension in the room still thickened as Haskell waited for obedience.

And, while Kaz may never really flinch, he knew how to play this game.  All he had to do was jump at the right times, look away furtively when needed, throw in the appropriate yes, sirs and no, sirs, and then he’d have Haskell eating out of the palm of his hand. After all, the man was far more worried about being respected than he was with earning the right to be respected.

So, with his fist a death grip around the head of his cane, Kaz sat.

As expected, Haskell looked entirely too pleased with himself when met with Kaz’s compliance.  Kaz met that self-satisfied stare with a hard, blank one of his own and waited for the old man to finish puffing his cigar.

On an exhale, Haskell asked, “The fuck happened to your face?”

“A fight,” Kaz answered simply.

“Let me guess,” Haskell mumbled with an exasperated shake of his head. “I should see the other guy?”

“Only if you feel like paying a visit to the morgue.”

Haskell’s cigar paused halfway to his ashtray, and his vaguely amused expression shifted to something…darker. “Run that by me again, kid.”

“Guy took a shot at me,” Kaz explained, smothering the irritation that came along with Haskell’s nickname for him. “I retaliated.  As luck would have it, I was a much better shot.”

Something in the air shifted then: something that Kaz couldn’t identify, but could feel tightening around them both like a snake.

“You know,” Haskell began, finally tapping the ash off his cigar.  His tone was suddenly tense, and Kaz gripped the head of his cane in anticipation. “I had a source reach out to me earlier today.  They claimed that you were involved in a gunfight-turned-high-speed-chase this afternoon.  I thought…of course Kaz isn’t stupid enough to get himself involved in some shit like that.  Not that close to my house, not with everything we’ve been working on recently, and definitely not without even an attempt at contacting me.”

“I was lying low,” Kaz cut in, annoyance beginning to heat in his gut.  Why was he having to defend himself?  Hadn’t be been doing this long enough to know how to avoid an arrest and make it back home in one piece without feeling the need to call on the old man for help?  “I hid the car, waited until nightfall, and by the time I got a ride back home, I figured I’d just wait to tell you during our meeting.”

Haskell nodded slowly, though Kaz knew the expression on the old man’s face well enough now to know that he did not agree or approve. “And that Fjerdan friend of yours – Matthias, was it? – he was in the car with you because…”

“He’s visiting,” Kaz replied, and it took more effort than he expected to keep his face blank. It wasn’t impossible for someone to have spotted Kaz’s car in the chase and reported it to Haskell but…he’d been so careful to keep Matthias’s visit under wraps, but someone must have misstepped somewhere along the way.

“Ah, visiting,” Haskell mused.  He took another puff from his cigar. “And here I was, worried that my sources had been correct, and you’d secretly formed a plan to watch my every move today.”

Kaz lifted a single brow, a minimal outward response that was at war with the rapid quickening of his pulse. “Your sources seem to have a lot to say about me.”

“Not just you,” Haskell said, as if that were any condolence. “Speaking of – how’s your friend?”

“You know as well as I do that I don’t have friends.” Kaz kept his voice feather light, his tone easy.  If Haskell thought he had the upper hand due to whatever his sources had been feeding him, Kaz knew he couldn’t afford to slip up here with any nervous or irritated ticks.

“Of course,” Haskell sighed. “Acquaintance, then.”

“See, those I have lots of.  You’ll have to be more specific.”

“The one that fell off my roof an hour ago.” Kaz’s blood went cold in his veins. “Quite a nasty spill, according to my guards and the trail of blood across my backyard.”

It was then that Kaz faltered.  His words, which usually came to him with ease, got stuck in his throat just for a second, but it was enough for Haskell to notice. A dark glint crossed over the man’s eyes, a look that Kaz had grown familiar with over the past few years. It had just never been directed at him until now, but Kaz knew what that look meant:  danger.

Kaz managed to clear his throat and say, “If you’re having trouble with unwanted pests on your roof, I suggest bird spikes.  Cheap and humane.”

“From what I’ve heard, bird spikes won’t stop The Wraith.  That’s what they call her, isn’t it?”

Kaz’s throat felt too tight to breathe. “Why would I know anything about-”

“Do me a favor, Kaz, and don’t play fucking dumb with me.” The harshness in Haskell’s voice cut off the rest of Kaz’s argument.  “Instead, I want you to answer a question – without the usual smartass responses, if you don’t mind.” 

Haskell paused, another challenge.  Even if he wanted to speak, words were failing Kaz now, so he kept quiet.  Satisfied again, Haskell continued.

“How long have you been playing your own game? Has this been going on for a week? A month? A year?”

Kaz kept his jaw clenched tight as he replied, “I’m not playing a game. I never was.”

“Really?” Haskell asked, amusement seeping into his voice, though Kaz found it impossible to see the humor in the current situation. “Then you organized an unsanctioned, unwarranted, and unnecessary investigation into me by outside sources for…what, Kaz?  If this isn’t you playing for keeps, then what do you want?”

What I deserve, the voice in Kaz’s head screamed while his grip on the head of his cane tightened, but he kept his lips carefully sealed and his eyes locked on the old man across the desk. When he failed to respond, Haskell heaved a sigh and pressed on.

“You know, I remember that day I finally decided to take you on.  Twelve years old, 80 pounds soaking wet, and nothing but rage in those eyes. You walked through the front doors out there with a rusty, bloody knife in your hand and a smile on your face, and I knew I had to take a chance on someone like that.  You always did like to bite off a hell of a lot more than you could chew, and usually that arrogance tended to lean in your favor.  This time, though…this time you miscalculated.”

“Funny,” Kaz replied lowly, finding his voice finally. “I used to be the only one in this room who could do calculations.”

Haskell huffed a laugh, though it didn’t sound nearly as amused as it should. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen, then.  Maybe if you’d spent more of your time on that aspect of your job and less time trying to find a way to steal mine out from under my feet, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Kaz ran his tongue over his teeth, buying himself a second to think. He was running out of options, fast, and Haskell knew far more than he should. Whatever advantages Kaz had when he’d walked through that door were disappearing like smoke right before his eyes.   

“I don’t know who your sources are, but I’m afraid they’ve severely overestimated my motives,” Kaz began, his mind working overtime to correct the mistakes that had already been made. “I heard some concerning rumors that someone might be looking to lead an attack against The Dregs and, namely, you. I had my team keep an eye on you today, and I hired The Wraith to take over once night came.  Apparently, those threats I’d heard of were bullshit, but all I was trying to do was protect you and The Dregs. Just like always.”

Haskell raised both thick, bushy brows. “Is that so?”

“Of course,” the lie fell easily from Kaz’s lips. The weight pressed against his chest began to lighten.

In response, Haskell hummed lightly and reached for the phone lying face down a foot away from him. Anticipation left Kaz feeling jittery as he waited for Haskell to return his attention to the conversation at hand, and he just barely managed to keep his limbs in check.

Wordlessly, Haskell sat the phone down onto the vast sea of papers spread across the desk.  Kaz’s brows tipped together in confusion until he heard a familiar voice coming from the speaker.

“I’m not blind, Kaz. I just think you’re getting a little too deep into the conspiracy theory at this point.”

The air in Kaz’s lungs came to a stuttering halt as Jesper’s words from last night spilled into the room.   

“If Haskell finds out you’ve been poking around where you don’t belong, shit could go sideways real fast. You’d be a lot better off remembering your place in the food chain before you end up with a fucking bullet in your head.”

Kaz held his breath as static followed, hoping that would be the end.  Instead, though, his own voice – sounding tinny and stretched out over the phone’s speaker – spoke.

“Consider this a disruption in the food chain, then.”

Haskell leaned across the desk again and stopped the audio, leaving the room suspended in a silence so sharp and sudden that Kaz thought it might cut him.  Every ounce of bravado that he’d entered this meeting with burned out of him in an instant. He felt like he was underwater, and his body and lungs hadn’t figured out they needed to fight their way back up to the surface yet.

“Never thought I’d see the day that Fahey was the smartest one between the two of you,” Haskell spoke with ease, a fact that Kaz was jealous of considering that even breathing felt foreign to him right now. “I can’t wait to hear the bullshit you conjure up to get yourself out of this one.  Come on, then, explain.”

Kaz wanted to, he wanted to spin the story and weasel his way out of a bad situation like he had a thousand times before, but he was reeling.  So, instead of lies, Kaz Brekker could only manage a barely there shake of his head.

“Unfortunate,” Haskell sighed.  Then, he stood. “In other unfortunate news, actions like this do require consequence.”

Again, Kaz failed to find the right words as Haskell strolled across the room with the ease of a man who’d grown used to having things simply fall into place.  Kaz’s eyes followed him.

“Effective immediately,” Haskell said, placing his hand on the door knob.  “You are to be stripped of your title as a Dregs member.  For the foreseeable future, you will be blacklisted from every Dregs owned establishment in the city.  Should you try to enter any such locations, you will be stopped by whatever means necessary.”

Kaz felt as though the boards beneath his feet were crumbling, ready to take him with them, but in his desperation, he still managed, “The fundraiser scheduled for this weekend-”

“Is off limits to you,” Haskell interrupted.

“I spent the past year organizing this event with Zenik,” Kaz argued, but his voice sounded strangely hollow despite the fact that everything he was saying now was true. “We’ve invited potential investors from all over the city who are willing to buy in on legitimate Dregs business.  They’ll be expecting me to be present and broker the deals.  This will be huge for us if we can-”

“There is no us anymore.  You lost that right when you failed to remember your place.  Don’t worry, though, your replacement, Erik – you’ve met him, I think – will handle the investors.”

The mention of Erik’s name left Kaz’s vision red.  So, this was Haskell’s next step that The Wraith had mentioned, but then what the hell was his end game?

“He will be stopping by your apartment to collect any paperwork or documentation you have regarding Dregs business,” Haskell continued. “Likely tomorrow – they’re having a celebratory part for him tonight at The Slat, so I doubt he’ll make it any time soon.”

Kaz felt like he was floating – away from this room, away from Haskell, away from himself.  The only thing that kept him present was the violent pulse of anger in his veins.  With a sneer, Kaz asked, “Anything else, sir?”

“Just one last thing,” Haskell said, pulling open the door.  His next words were directed to the two bouncers just outside the door.  “Hold him still.”

That simple instruction was enough to bring Kaz hurtling back to himself completely, and in an instant he was in his feet, his cane swooping in a wide arc toward the first of the bruisers. Unfortunately, that swing – which connected with the man’s stomach with a satisfying whack – was the only one Kaz managed to get in.  The other bruiser was faster, and he’d grabbed Kaz’s wrist on the upswing and squeezed so hard Kaz felt the bones grate against one another beneath his skin.  He bit back his groan and let the cane slip from his grip.  He only had a breath to prepare himself before the other bruiser was back up and took a swing of his own. 

Kaz found himself suddenly thankful for the shock still pumping through his veins because he barely felt the punch that carried enough force to knock him back into his chair. He was too busy trying to suck in air to bother fighting against the thick, muscled arms that had him pinned against the back of the chair within seconds. 

When Kaz was finally starting to catch his breath, Haskell rounded the small group of struggling men with that same smug, self-satisfied look on his face. “I’m doing you a favor, really, by letting you walk out of here tonight, Kaz.  Hell, if anyone else had done what you did, there’d be nothing left of him except whatever bits the canal fish won’t eat, but you… People in this city would notice too quickly if you disappeared.  However, an infraction like this still warrants some type of…physical reminder, don’t you think?”

Despite the words begging to spill from his lips, Kaz kept his mouth tightly shut. There were nothing he could say now.  No more strings to pull, no more tales to tell.

So, he didn’t say a word when Haskell gave the order to remove his jacket, nor did he fight when the bruisers tugged the fabric off his body roughly.  He didn’t plead for a different punishment when he saw the way Haskell’s eyes zoned in on the tattoo of a crow and cup on his forearm.  He didn’t shout when Haskell took a few considering puffs off his cigar and instructed one of the bouncers to hold Kaz’s arm perfectly still. 

And, as Haskell leaned forward and pressed the lit end of his cigar against the inked skin on Kaz’s forearm, Kaz simply closed his eyes and bit his tongue until he tasted blood.  He refused to make a sound, refused to let Haskell see how the pain rooted its way deep in Kaz’s bones, refused to acknowledge that same ache himself even as the cigar met his skin over and over and over.

When the blackened ink was smothered completely under grotesque, oozing welts, Haskell finally leaned back with a hum of approval.  Kaz, on the other hand, was shaking with the effort it had taken to keep himself silent.  Rage burned hotly in his eyes as he stared up at the man he’d once respected, though he couldn’t find a single trace of that same affection anymore.  Without looking away, Kaz spit the mouthful of warm blood and saliva onto the floor at Haskell’s feet.  The old man didn’t even bother pretending to be impressed. 

“Pride used to be such a good look on you.  Not sure it suits you anymore,” Haskell stated blandly, and then he turned his back on Kaz. “Make sure our friend here exits the building quickly and without any stops, then I need the both of you to start spreading the message:  Kaz Brekker is no longer a member of The Dregs, and all information that usually goes through him will now go through Erik.”

When the bruisers released Kaz, he moved to his feet with as much grace as he could muster.  With his jacket in one hand and his cane in the other, Kaz straightened his shoulders and stalked through the now opened office door.  He did not allow himself to falter as he crossed The Crow Club floor. He did not let himself lock eyes with a single soul in the dwindling crowd, even though his ruined Dregs tattoo was on full display and anyone who stuck around this type of place this late at night would know exactly what that ruination meant.

He did not give himself permission to utter a single sound as he shoved his way through the double doors. In fact, he was quiet still as he walked calmly, confidently down the dark Ketterdam streets.  He remained silent as he slid into the driver’s seat of Nina’s car, as he twisted the key in the ignition, as he turned up the volume on the radio as loud as it could go. 

It was then and only then, with the beat of some shitty pop song thumping on every side of him, that Kaz finally found his voice.

“Fuck!”

His scream, which tore violently at his throat, was lost in the void of the music, as was the thunk of his fist slamming against the dashboard.  There wasn’t enough room in Nina’s tiny car to get the leverage necessary to do any real damage, but it was enough to make Kaz’s hand ache, and that ache distracted him from the burning heat on his opposite forearm, even if just for a second.  So, with a few more wordless shouts that poured from some dangerous place inside him, Kaz let his fist meet the dash again and again, only stopping when the pain stopped dulling the burn and instead began to double it.

In the matter of half an hour, everything had crumbled right in front of his eyes.  All the trust he’d earned, all the time and effort he’d put into his position in The Dregs, all the energy he’d spent trying to make this gang something to fear – it was all gone.  He’d spent ten years molding himself, training himself, perfecting the image of Kaz Brekker until he’d gotten it just right, and it had taken minutes for it to implode right in front of him.

His breath was coming quick and shallow, and Kaz closed his eyes in an effort to breathe.  Instead, though, he was met with a memory, dredged up by the familiar yet long-lost sense of utter panic. 

“It’s only for a little while,” his father had said, patting Kaz’s head fondly. “Just a little while…and you’ll have Jordie!”

Kaz, only ten then, had turned wide, expectant eyes onto his older brother.  Jordie had simply offered him a weak smile in return, pulling Kaz in for a hug that forced his father’s hand to fall away from his head.

“We’ll be fine. We can handle anything,” Jordie had affirmed, turning his eyes to their father. “Just the two of us.

The shrill sound of Kaz’s phone ringing pulled him free from the sudden, unwanted memory.  Grateful for anything that would distract him from the uncertainty so strong and heavy that it felt like it might drown him, Kaz turned the volume down on the radio and answered the call with shaking hands and a stern, “What?”

“Damn, hello to you, too,” Jesper snapped, though his irritation was short lived. “I got a call about some ‘celebration party’ happening down at The Slat.  Did you know anything about this?”

Kaz’s grip on the phone tightened along with his jaw. He took a deep breath that trembled on the exhale, then managed, “I need you to go to that party.  Take Wylan.  I want every bit of information you can get on the new recruit Erik.”

“Erik?” Jesper asked skeptically, but Kaz heard the jingle of keys in the background. “He’s only been in for a couple months, and he’s already making waves?”

Kaz ignored the comment and instead instructed, “Be back in an hour.  We’re having a mandatory meeting.”

Jesper whined, “It’s already 1 a.m.”

“Your point?” Kaz snapped, and Jesper’s whine cut off.  With a huff, Jesper agreed and hung up.

Then, before he could talk himself out of it, Kaz clicked on the newest contact in his phone and waited, using the time to try and get his breathing under control.  This time, it was him who was greeted with an irritated, “What do you want?”

“Easy, Wraith,” Kaz replied, though his own voice held none of the ease he was suggesting.  “This is a courtesy call.  I’ll be picking you back up in half an hour.  We’re having an emergency meeting.”

When The Wraith sighed, it sounded as heavy and exhausted as Kaz felt. “I’ve had enough of your business for today, Brekker.  Try again in the morning.”

“You promised me,” Kaz cut in before she could end the call.  Only silence answered him, but Kaz knew she was still listening. “You promised me you’d do anything I asked, right?”

“A promise I worry I’ll soon live to regret,” she spat.  “Fine.  See you in 30.  Bring food.”

The phone beeped sharply in Kaz’s ear as she hung up.  Kaz sighed and dropped the phone away from his ear.  As he did, his eyes landed on the notification still left on the screen – a message from an unsaved number with an image.  In all of the chaos that had unfolded during his meeting, Kaz had nearly forgotten about the photograph he’d sent to himself from The Wraith’s phone.  With fingers that still shook – either with rage or pain or some unique combination of the two that Kaz had never felt on this scale before – Kaz opened the image once again.  And, as his eyes landed once again on the blurry but familiar form standing in Haskell’s hallway, Kaz felt the heat of betrayal climbing up his spine.  His grip on the phone tightened so much he thought for the briefest of seconds that he might be able to crush the device in his bare hand, but he managed to restrain himself before he could test that theory. 

Instead, he opened a different message thread and typed out a quick text to Nina. 

Mandatory meeting at my apartment in an hour. Go fetch Helvar and do not let him out of your sight until I get there.

With that, Kaz tossed his phone roughly into the passenger’s seat, turned the music up again, and switched from Nina’s usual station to one that filled the car with heavy bass and screaming voices that drowned out the ones in his own head. Then, he pulled away from the curb without a single glance back towards The Crow Club.

Chapter Text

“What’s your drink of choice?”

The sound of Jesper’s voice nearly made Wylan jump.  When Kaz had given them the instruction to attend the Dregs party at The Slat, Wylan hadn’t been quite sure what to expect.  However, they’d only been here for five minutes, and he already felt confident that he had no desire to ever attend one again. 

For starters, everything and everyone was too loud.  Wylan had heard the music before Jesper had even turned off the motorcycle, and they’d parked nearly a block away.  The volume had only increased as they made their way into the depths of The Slat, where a chorus of voices, clinking glasses, and stomping boots greeted them.  On top of that, it was unbearably hot. They’d barely made it through the front door before Wylan began to feel his borrowed t-shirt stick to him with sweat.

While Wylan suffered, though, Jesper seemed perfectly in his element.  On their way through the house, he greeted every other person by name and offered them a slap on the shoulder, a quick hug, a handshake.  He hadn’t seemed to mind at all that it felt like the bodies were pressing in around them as he’d led Wylan to the packed kitchen. 

Now, Jesper stood in front of Wylan with his eyebrows raised, waiting for an answer.  Wylan managed a weak shrug.  “I’ll drink whatever.”

“You sure about that?” Jesper asked, and when Wylan simply nodded his response, Jesper turned back to the kitchen counter riddled with half empty bottles.  He made quick work of pouring two shots of something that Wylan thought might be clear, but someone had apparently had the bright idea that colored LEDs were needed for tonight’s festivities, so all of his vision was tainted with flashing reds and blues and purples. 

“Cheers then,” Jesper said, just loud enough to be heard over the music.  As he handed one of the tiny cups over to Wylan, his long, slender fingers smoothed over the skin of Wylan’s hand.  Wylan chose to ignore the way the touch felt against his skin, and instead he watched as Jesper tipped his head back and downed his own shot in a single go. 

As he had done before, Wylan found himself mirroring the taller man’s motions.  Put the glass against your lips, throw your head back, swallow fast, and hiss in a quiet breath between your teeth at the end.  However, Wylan added his own touch to the motion by pressing the back of his hand against his mouth as he fought to power through the unexpected tightness in his throat.  Jesper’s smirk held no sympathy as he took the shot glass out of Wylan’s other hand.

“I guess we can cross cheap vodka off your list of anything,” Jesper mocked.

Wylan coughed in response.  Feeling confident that his body wouldn’t reject the burning liquid, he dropped his hand.  “That’s awful.”

Jesper chuckled. “I know.”

“Then why did you give it to me?”

“Entertainment,” Jesper answered with a shrug and a grin that Wylan had to look away from.

As Jesper set to work securing them new drinks, Wylan occupied himself with trying to take up as little space as possible.  This was not the type of environment that he thrived in.  He worked best in small groups where he could read everyone, where hierarchies were clear, where he could fit into the puzzle as the perfect missing piece, no matter what shape he had to mold himself into. Here, though, it felt like multiple puzzles had been dumped out onto the floor, and Wylan felt like he was the only one scrambling to put the pieces back together in their respective piles.  There were too many to organize, too many to keep track of.  It was enough to make his skin begin to crawl while his eyes darted left and right in search of an unoccupied corner to tuck himself into. 

“I know it might be hard for a pretty face like yours,” Jesper’s voice behind Wylan’s shoulder startled him, “but it might be in your best interest to at least try to blend into the crowd.”

Wylan’s unease began to shift into irritation as he turned, though moving was a challenge considering how crowded the kitchen was.  As he accepted the new cup Jesper pressed into his hand, he defended, “I am blending in.”  

Jesper grinned easily, ready to tease, and Wylan found himself suddenly jealous of how naturally comfort came to a man like Jesper. 

“You look like you’re worried everyone in this room is going to eat you alive,” Jesper explained, taking a step forward to allow a few other partygoers to pass behind him.  He must not have noticed how Wylan tensed at the proximity, because Jesper leaned even closer until Wylan could feel the brush of warm breath against his ear.  As Wylan fought off a shiver, Jesper continued, “While I might find the whole ‘deer-in-the-headlights’ look cute, I doubt others here will hold the same sentiment.  So, stop counting exits, relax your shoulders, and drink your beer before someone mistakes you for a fun new plaything.”

With that, Jesper leaned back out of Wylan’s space, and Wylan heaved a sigh of relief that was cut off sharply when he felt Jesper’s fingers on his skin.  The Zemeni man pinched Wylan’s chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, tipping Wylan’s head back and sending his pulse racing. 

As Jesper inspected his face, Wylan held perfectly still.  He found himself suddenly grateful for the thundering thump of the music that drowned out the overeager beating of his heart.  Though, from the smug look on Jesper’s face, he didn’t need to hear Wylan’s quickened pulse to know the effect he had. 

“There we go,” Jesper commented, as casual as ever.  “Finally getting some color back in those cheeks.  Has anyone ever told you that this is a good look on you?”

Wylan knocked Jesper’s hand away, feeling his embarrassment crawling under his skin like hundreds of tiny ants.  “I thought we were here for a reason.”

“We are.”

“Then shouldn’t we be…looking for clues?”

The corner of Jesper’s lips twitched.  “Clues?”

“You know what I mean.”

“We’ll get our answers, little prince, I promise.  Doesn’t mean we can’t also have a little fun along the way, now does it?”

Even after only knowing Jesper for a few days, Wylan knew that arguing would be pointless. So, instead, he finally lifted his cup to his lips, holding Jesper’s gaze as he took several long sips.  Jesper’s amusement only seemed to grow, but when Wylan let the cup fall away, Jesper took him by the elbow and began to lead him out of the kitchen.  They did not leave the way they’d come in, though.  Instead, Jesper pulled Wylan behind him through a second door, which led to a part of the house that was far less crowded and lacked the bright flash of LED lights.  Bodies still milled about here and there, but at least Wylan could breathe again. 

“Where are we going?” Wylan asked as they approached the end of the hall.

As Jesper lifted his fist to knock on the last door, he shot Wylan a grin and answered, “To find some clues.”

The roll of Wylan’s eyes was interrupted by the door swinging open.  Inside the room, cigarette smoke had left the air thick and hazy beneath the yellow glow of lamplight, but that didn’t stop those inside from immediately recognizing the Zemeni man at Wylan’s side.

A few voices called out to Jesper in friendly greetings, and the door was opened wider to allow the two of them inside.  Though this room was far less crowded with bodies as the rest of the house, it was still a challenge to maneuver the space with several round tables set up across the floor, each with five or six men seated at them.  Through the smoky air, Wylan spotted decks of cards and wads of crumpled cash dotting the tables, and at his side, Jesper’s breathing turned slow and deliberate, as if he were counting each breath on its way in and out.

“Gentlemen!” Jesper jeered as he approached the table nearest them.  “How much has Briggs stolen from you tonight?”

A younger boy, still soft in the face around the edges, turned a mischievous grin in Jesper’s direction.  “I’ll stop stealing their money when they learn how to play a decent game.”

Scattered laughter answered him as Jesper slapped the boy’s back approvingly. 

“If you’re waiting for this crowd to learn something, then I’m sure luck is in your favor.”

Briggs grinned in response, the laughter at the table died off, and Wylan felt the air shift as an uncomfortable silence fell over the table. A few of the men seated at the table shot their eyes at one another, a wordless question passing between them. 

Jesper must have sensed the new, building tension as well.  “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Briggs answered in a quiet voice, tapping his fingers against the table nervously.  With a furtive glance up at Jesper, he asked, “How’s Kaz?”

Jesper shrugged. “As much of an arrogant ass as always.  Why?”

Briggs’ fingers froze mid tap.  “He didn’t tell you?”

Confused, Wylan turned a curious glance toward Jesper, but the Zemeni man had his sights set straight ahead.  “Didn’t tell me what?”

Briggs cast his eyes around the table, searching for help.  Finding none being offered up by his fellow players, he cleared his throat and explained in a slow voice, as if breaking bad news to a child, “Kaz Brekker is no longer a member of The Dregs.”

Despite his lack of time with Kaz and his gang, the words still hit Wylan like a punch.  It seemed impossible in his mind to separate those two things.  Kaz was The Dregs, and The Dregs belonged to Kaz.  You couldn’t have one without the other.

While Wylan’s mind spun, though, Jesper’s features stayed perfectly still and calm.  “Well, that’ll be a fun topic of conversation tomorrow.”

Briggs must have been worried about the nature of Jesper’s response, because one he heard the nonchalance with which Jesper spoke, his shoulders sagged in relief. 

“What does Haskell plan to do while he’s searching for a replacement?” Jesper asked, his body language unbothered even though Wylan himself still felt at a loss from the news. 

Briggs shoulders tensed again, just a hair.  “He’s, uh, already been replaced.”

“Well, shit, that was fast,” Jesper remarked with a quiet laugh.  “By who?”

“By me,” a new voice intruded, and Wylan’s eyes followed the sound to the neighboring table. A large, buff blonde man with a stern jaw and steely eyes had his attention focused solely on Jesper, who didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the sudden attention.

“Oh!” Jesper replied coolly.  “You’re…Erik, right?”

“Right,” the man replied, taking a swig of something dark and amber in his glass.  “And you must be Fahey.”

“I guess my reputation precedes me.  Though, I suppose you aren’t that impressed.  I mean, a guy who’s only been in The Dregs for a couple of months taking over the second-in-command position?  You must be very impressive to have caught Haskell’s eye so quickly.”

“Guess so,” Erik replied, his eyes sliding over Jesper appraisingly.  Then, he tilted his head just so, as if a thought had just occurred to him.  “We’re just wrapping up a game now.  Why don’t you join our table?”

Jesper’s easy, laid back form turned rigid, just for a second – so fast that the rest of the room likely didn’t notice – before falling back into his usual relaxed stature.

“Afraid I’m a little low on funds at the moment,” Jesper spoke, calm and clear and certain.  “Maybe next time.”

Erik considered Jesper for a long, long moment, and then he pulled a folded leather wallet from his back pocket.  It was only then that Wylan noticed that the voices filling the room had begun to peter out. 

“As much as your skills as a gunman are coveted,” Erik explained, slowly placing $100 on the table, then $200, then $300, and continuing on as he spoke. “Your reputation as a gambler is what most of the men in this room know you for best.  I have yet to see you in action, Fahey, and I’d like to know what all the fuss is about.”

Erik finally stopped plucking bills from his wallet once he’d laid 15 crisp hundred dollar bills on the table, which he then slid in Jesper’s direction.  “Let’s see what you’re made of.  You in or out?”

Wylan hadn’t been in this life for very long, but he knew the clipped tone of a challenge when he heard one.  Apparently, so did everyone else in the room.  Bodies shifted in seats.  Breaths held their place in lungs.  Eyes skated across the room.  Uncertainty brewed as everyone waited for the response.

And, amidst all that uncertainty, Wylan turned to Jesper.  Except, when he did, he found that Jesper’s mask – always so sure, so arrogant – had begun to crack.  It was a tiny little thing, just near the edge, but it was a crack nonetheless.  Though, Wylan figured that anyone who hadn’t spent every possible moment studying the contours of Jesper’s face like he had the past few days would never even notice the miniscule loss of control.

But Wylan did. Jesper’s confidence was replaced with nerves and worry, and self-hatred flickered beneath it all.  Distantly, Wylan remembered their conversation during their stakeout – the story of how Jesper had joined the Dregs.  He could see the hint of desire in Jesper’s eyes as he took in the table, the spread of cards, the stack of cash waiting for him with open arms.  Beneath that, he could see Jesper warring against his own mind, desperate to simply walk away. 

“Well?” Erik called, pulling Wylan’s attention back toward him.

“Yeah,” Jesper answered, voice stained in disappointment.  “I’ll-”

Jesper’s words cut off as Wylan’s hand shot forward and wrapped around his wrist.  Slender fingers pressed against warm skin, and Wylan could feel Jesper’s quick but steady pulse beneath his touch. 

With his brows pulled together, Jesper demanded, “What’re you doing?”

Wylan could suddenly feel eyes on him from every angle, as if every single person in this room had failed to notice his presence until this exact moment.  The scrutiny of the strangers and the conflicted expression on Jesper’s face made it hard to speak, but Wylan finally managed in a quiet, feeble voice, “I need another drink.”

Jesper’s eyes shot to the still half-full cup in Wylan’s free hand.  He opened his mouth to speak, lips poised to argue that Wylan had a drink already, but Wylan squeezed Jesper’s wrist roughly.  Maybe it was the tightness of the grip or the desperation lurking in Wylan’s gaze, but realization finally dawned on Jesper’s face.  His brow smoothed, his lips closed, his shoulders straightened.

“Okay,” he said, a simple declaration that seemed to echo through the room despite the softness of Jesper’s tone.

Erik clicked his tongue.  “Let the boy go make his own drink.”

“Sorry, Erik,” Jesper spoke with a sigh.  He tugged out of Wylan’s grip only to wrap his arm around Wylan’s neck and steer them both toward the door.  “If the little prince needs me to make him a new drink, then I have no choice but to provide.  You understand.”

Erik’s reply was lost in a wave of muttered voices that chased Wylan and Jesper from the room.  Back in the hallway, with the door shut behind them, Jesper tipped his head towards Wylan’s.

“Thank you,” he whispered, though his lips were so close to Wylan’s ear that Wylan had no trouble hearing him over the music that grew louder as they continued down the hall.

Wylan didn’t dare try to pull away from the closeness as he asked, “Did you want to play?”

“Of course I did,” Jesper answered, leaning his head away - much to Wylan’s disappointment.  “But Kaz has enough on his place tonight; he doesn’t need me disappointing him again.  Besides, you and I, little prince, have bigger problems to tackle.  After all, we got our clue.”

Wylan’s brows tugged together. “We did?”

“You see, Erik’s problem is that he assumes that – since he’s been promoted – he knows more about The Dregs than the rest of us.  Little does he know, I happen to be quite knowledgeable about this little gaggle of street rats.  Do you know what one of the best benefits of being named second-in-command is?”

Wylan shook his head. 

With a squeeze to Wylan’s shoulder, Jesper explained, “When you get that high in the ranking, you get to move from the shitty, crowded bunks upstairs to the single room in the attic.  Kaz was there before he bought the apartments.”

Wylan’s brows drew together.  “Do you think Erik will have already moved in this fast?”

“Trust me.  If you’d ever had to experience life in a Dregs bunk, the first thing you’d do - if given the chance - is move out. Now, let’s go search for more clues.”

Wylan wordlessly followed along as Jesper let his arm fall away, though the touch seemed to linger across his skin despite Wylan’s best efforts to shake it off.  Jesper snaked his way through partygoers until he found a narrow staircase, where they deposited their half-empty cups into an already overflowing trashcan before ascending the stairs.  A few guests lingered at the top, but they all seemed far more concerned with grinning suggestively at one another than paying any mind to Wylan and Jesper as they pushed their way between them.  By the time they made it to the second set of stairs leading up to the attic, the crowd had thinned out completely. 

The second flight of rickety wooden stairs came to a stop at a single, worn door.  With a cursory glance over his shoulder to ensure no one had followed them, Jesper knelt before the door and slid two thin sticks of metal from beneath his sleeve. 

Wylan’s voice was nearly lost beneath the ever present thump of the music downstairs.  “What’re you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, little prince?”

“Breaking in?”

“Well, well.  You wouldn’t know it just looking at him, but the little prince has brains after all,” Jesper teased, though his focus was clearly turned onto fiddling with the brass knob in front of him. 

Wylan looked over his shoulder nervously, though the stairway was still empty behind them.  “You can pick locks?”

“I can do lots of things.  Kaz is much better at this particular skill than I am, but he taught me well enough.”

Wylan tapped the toe of his shoe against the wooden board beneath his feet.  “Did you know?  About Kaz?”

One of the metal rods slipped, and Jesper released a quiet curse as he tried to steady them both again.  He was quiet for so long that Wylan thought he hadn’t heard the question, but then Jesper mumbled, “No.”

“If Kaz isn’t in The Dregs anymore…how bad are things going to get?”

“Knowing Kaz?” Jesper paused, and Wylan heard a faint click.  “Bad.”

With that, Jesper stood, twisted the knob, and watched as the door swung inward.  As Jesper had predicted, the space past the door was littered with boxes of halfway unpacked belongings, which they each had to step over as they crept into the room and locked the door back behind them. 

The room was split into two sections.  The first, just within the doorway, served as what appeared to be an office space.  There was a beaten up desk to the left, a couple ratty sitting chairs to the right.  A sparse scattering of papers lay across the scratched surface of the desk, as if they’d been dropped there in a hurry.  Past that, a bare mattress sat tucked into the back corner of the room, the sheets messily thrown atop it.  At the foot of said bed stood a worn out dresser that didn’t quite hold all of its drawers correctly, and a thin room divider separated a small, empty wash basin from the rest of the space. 

Without any hesitation, Jesper headed for the dresser.  When he sensed Wylan’s stillness behind him, he called over his shoulder, “We’re alone now.  You can drop the wide-eyed, ‘I’m scared of everything’ look.”

Wylan bristled at the comment, but he had to admit that his body was already relaxing now that there was a locked door between himself and the rest of The Dregs downstairs. “I wasn’t scared.  Just…overwhelmed.”

“Have you never been to a party before?” Jesper asked.  Then, when he realized that Wylan still hadn’t moved away from the door, he added, “Start looking through the desk.”

“I don’t know what I’m looking for,” Wylan admitted grumpily, but he headed for the desk anyway. 

“Literally anything that gives us any information on who Erik is,” Jesper explained.  “How did he get here, how’d he get promoted to second in command in only two months…”

As Jesper became distracted by the contents of the drawer in front of him, Wylan began fiddling with the papers on the desk. 

“Not like this,” Wylan spoke after a few moments of silence.  Though, when Jesper sent him a confused look, he explained, “I’ve never been to a party like this before.”

“Ah, of course not,” Jesper replied, and Wylan could hear the grin on his voice even with the Zemeni’s back turned.  “I’m sure your life was more suited to tea parties and galas, right?”

Wylan snorted lightly.  “Not exactly, but you aren’t too far off.  Though, there were very few that I was allowed to attend.”

“Not even the galas?”

“Especially not the galas.”

“And why is that?”

“My father is…” Wylan paused just in time to catch the truth before it slipped past his lips.  “He expects something from me that I’ve never figured out how to give him.”

“Hmm,” Jesper mused, shutting the first drawer and moving on to the one beneath it.  “Perhaps dear old dad can work on adjusting his expectations, then?”

“Yeah,” Wylan answered, “maybe so.”

It was a lovely painted image – Wylan’s father standing before him, asking for effort instead of the world that was outside of Wylan’s grasp.  If Wylan took the time to let his mind perfectly craft the idea, it would be made up of all the vibrant colors he could imagine.  He’d picture his father apologizing, picture his mother standing with them both, picture himself in the middle, holding each of their hands as if his grip alone could hold them in that illusion. 

But there was no point in wasting his time daydreaming about that.  The reality was that Wylan would always fall behind the line of expectation, just like he always had.

“Got something,” Jesper called, breaking the spell in Wylan’s mind.  He crossed the room quickly, curious to see what Jesper had tugged free of the drawer.  The first item was a thin black booklet, printed with shapes and letters that Wylan didn’t recognize.

“What’s this?”

“A passport,” Jesper answered, pointing to one of the clusters of letters on the front.  “Fjerdan, if I’m not mistaken.”

“So Erik is Fjerdan?” Wylan asked, his confusion rising. 

“Yes, but that isn’t all.”

The next item he slipped into Wylan’s hand was a folded sheet of paper.  Again, the language scribbled on the inside was not familiar to Wylan, but what was familiar was the seal stamped in the bottom corner of the page.  A single red flower.  Recognition made Wylan’s pulse pick up.

“Just like on the letters The Wraith found,” Wylan whispered, his throat turning dry. 

“Exactly!” Jesper nodded, slapping Wylan on the shoulder.  “So, whoever Haskell is in cahoots with must also be working with Erik.”

“Yeah,” Wylan mumbled.  Before he could say anything else, Jesper had snatched both objects out of his hands and sat them on top of the dresser to take a photo with his phone. His fingers hurried over the screen, long and nimble and sure.

“What’re you doing?” Wylan asked again.

“Sending these to Kaz,” Jesper explained, tucking his phone back into his pocket.  Then, with those same thin, certain hands, he folded the letter and slid both it and the passport beneath the pile of clothes in the still open drawer.  “Did you find anything in the desk?”

Wylan shook his head.  “Not yet.”

“Alright,” Jesper nodded, opening another dresser drawer.  “Let’s keep looking then.”

However, as Wylan turned to head back to the worn-out desk, he was interrupted by two very distinct sounds that made his blood run cold in his veins.  The first was the heavy tread of boots on the wooden stairs just beyond the door, and the second was the quiet but clear sound of keys rattling against one another, as if being pulled from a pocket. 

“Shit.”

Wylan spun frantically to face Jesper, who was staring at the door with wide, analytical eyes, trying to form a plan.  “Shit?”

In response, Jesper took two long strides forward, nearly closing the distance between them as the footsteps came to a stop outside the door. “Little prince, I’m going to have to ask you to trust me for the next five minutes, and please do not punch me for what I’m about to do. Okay?”

Keys scraped in the lock behind Wylan, and urgency forced him to nod.  “Okay.”

The brass doorknob squeaked as it turned.  Wylan could hear his pulse in his ears, and, so quiet it could barely be heard over it, Jesper muttered, “Apologies in advance.”

And then Jesper’s mouth was on his, soft and hot and sudden.  A surprised gasp fell past Wylan’s lips and onto Jesper’s, and Wylan found himself nearly stumbling under the onslaught.  Before gravity could get the better of him, warm hands were on his back, holding him steady against Jesper’s rigid chest.  On instinct, Wylan’s own hands snapped out, grabbing the tops of Jesper’s arms for added support just as the door behind them swung open so fast and so hard that it banged against the wall. 

“The fuck?” a loud voice rang out, and then Jesper’s lips were gone as quickly as they’d appeared.

“Ah, shit, Erik.  This is your room?” Jesper feigned shock.  As he did, Wylan tried to get the wires in his brain uncrossed.  Though, it was not an easy task, especially with Jesper’s hands still on him, sliding down to the small of his back as Erik huffed.

“Yes,” Erik’s terse voice replied.  “How the hell did you get in here?”

“Sorry, man, we were just looking for a free room and, uh,” Jesper’s fingers curved dangerously around Wylan’s hips, “this was the only one we found that wasn’t already occupied. I figured it’d been empty since Kaz moved out.”

Wylan could feel the distrust rolling off of Erik, though he didn’t have the courage to turn and face the man yet.  The heat in his cheeks was only just beginning to subside.

“This door was locked,” Erik insisted.

Jesper brought his eyebrows together in mock confusion.  “Not when we got here,” he said, pausing to bring one of his hands up to smooth a stray curl out of Wylan’s reddened face.  “Right, baby?”

I’m going to die, Wylan thought to himself.  Out loud, he breathily answered, “Yeah.  It was wide open.”

Floorboards creaked as Erik took a few cautious steps into the room.  He paused a few feet away from the two boys who were still touching as if they’d simply forgotten their hands were on one another – as if Wylan could forget. 

“Why is my drawer open?”

Both Jesper and Wylan turned to look and, sure enough, the last drawer that Jesper had opened still hung from the frame of the dresser.  Neither of them had had the time to close it, and now Wylan’s mind was grasping at straws to find a reason – any reason – that would explain the drawer’s state if they’d simply borrowed the room for ‘privacy’.

Jesper cleared his throat.  “Well, you see-”

“We were looking for condoms,” Wylan intervened the moment the thought came to him, which was clear because if he’d taken even a millisecond to think, he’d have chosen to say literally anything else in that moment.  Jesper spun his head towards Wylan so fast that it must have made him dizzy, his expression both surprised and amused.  Wylan couldn’t hold his gaze, so instead he turned an awkwardly apologetic look onto Erik.  “We…forgot.  I’m sorry.”

Erik blinked at him, opened his mouth, closed it, and then let out a barely restrained sigh.  He didn’t look happy about it, but he did at least seem to buy into Wylan’s flustered expression. His voice was still tense as he spat, “Just get the fuck out.”

“Right,” Jesper said eagerly, using his hand still on Wylan’s hips to twist Wylan toward the door.  “You know how it is – when the mood strikes, and all that.”

“I said get the fuck out,” Erik snapped, pointing to the door with a meaty finger. 

“Going, going,” Jesper promised, giving Erik a quick, two fingered salute with his free hand.  In an instant, they were out of the room, the door closing behind them with an audible click.  The second they were alone again, Wylan opened his mouth, but Jesper hushed him quickly. 

“We’ll talk when we get to the bike,” he promised, dropping his hold on Wylan’s hip and taking his hand instead.  “Let’s go so we can fill Kaz in.”

Maneuvering the crowd felt like even more of a challenge now.  Or, at least, it did to Wylan, who was still pink-cheeked and wide-eyed and felt like his entire body was a live wire of nerves.  Jesper, however, had no problem squeezing their way through the crowds and out of the front door into the cool, damp Ketterdam air.  Wylan breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind them, and Jesper finally dropped his hold on Wylan’s hand.

As they picked their way back down the dirty, cracked sidewalk, silence continued to follow them.  In fact, neither one of the boys spoke until they finally approached Jesper’s motorcycle, parked against the curb, far enough away from The Slat that the music had faded to a dull thump of bass – though Wylan’s ears were still ringing.

“You know,” Jesper finally broke the silence as he slipped a helmet into Wylan’s hands.  “Sometimes, your creativity is remarkably impressive. That was some quick thinking in there.”

Wylan ducked his head and tugged the helmet over his curls.  “Thanks.”

“Are you gonna dig through my drawers to look for condoms, too?” Jesper teased. As Wylan tensed, Jesper swung his leg over the bike and settled into his seat.  “I could always just show you where I keep them.  If you’re interested, that is.”

“Whatever,” Wylan mumbled with a roll of his eyes as he climbed onto the bike behind Jesper.  The taunt was just that – a taunt – and it was far too late in the night and Wylan was feeling far too scrambled to navigate that type of conversation without embarrassing himself even further. 

Jesper, however, could feel Wylan’s vague discomfort in the air anyway, and as the bike roared to life and pulled away from the curb, Wylan could just barely make out the sound of Jesper chuckling to himself.

Chapter Text

Matthias’s foot tapped mercilessly against the thin, faded carpet.  Across the room, Nina leaned against the kitchen counter that overlooked the living room.  Neither of them had uttered so much as a syllable in the past half hour, but she’d occasionally shoot her eyes in his direction, checking that he hadn’t moved.  

Though, Matthias wasn’t quite sure why she even bothered.  He hadn’t moved an inch since they’d entered her apartment and she’d pointed to the couch in clear exasperation.  He’d worn out all of his questions on the trip over - what do you mean we’re having an emergency meeting?  Why in the middle of the night?  Why couldn’t Kaz have just called?  Why did Matthias need to be babysat?  When would he get to return to his hotel and, hopefully, his sleep? 

Nina’s breaking point had fractured as they’d been climbing the stairs up to her apartment and Matthias had asked for the hundredth time, “But why ?” 

“I don’t know , Matthias,” she’d snapped, her voice worn thin with impatience and irritation.  “Don’t you think if I had any answers, I’d have given them to you before you’d worried the absolute shit out of me?  All I know is that Kaz is calling a mandatory meeting, and your attendance is required.  If you have any other questions, kindly save them for when Kaz gets home, because if I have to hear your voice one more time, only one of us will be making it to that meeting.” 

Nina had sounded far too tired to carry out that threat with any real vengeance, but Matthias still managed to hold his tongue.  Her frustration, it had seemed, did not only stem from him .  

Now, though, her wrinkled brow was telling a different story.  

“Would you please stop that?” she demanded curtly.  They were the first words spoken in so long that her voice sounded far too loud in the small apartment. 

Matthias’s foot stilled.  “Stop what?” 

Her glare was sharp enough to cut, even with the space between them.  Whatever brutal retort she’d had at the ready - and Matthias could tell by the wicked gleam in her eyes that it would be brutal - was cut off by the sound of her phone vibrating against the counter.  

Nina lunged for the device as if it were a lifeline, and the sigh she let out held a world of relief.  “Kaz is ready for us.  Let’s go.” 

She didn’t bother waiting for Matthias to get to his feet, and by the time he’d made it into the apartment hallway, she was already stepping across the threshold into Kaz Brekker’s space.  

Matthias followed her into the dimly lit living room of Kaz Brekker’s apartment just in time to hear Nina say, “Have I mentioned lately how much I loathe you?” 

The words held little heat, but she still sent Brekker a pointed look as she fell heavily into the lone armchair.  

Matthias expected to hear the usual whip-quick retort that Kaz Brekker was known for.  Instead, though, all Matthias heard was the flick of a lighter, and he felt Brekker’s eyes on him like a physical thing.  That gaze tugged at him as Brekker took a drag from his cigarette, long and drawn out.  

Finally, as he exhaled a small cloud of smoke, he met Matthias’s eyes and ordered, “Sit.” 

There was a part of Matthias that wanted to argue just on principle.  He did not technically work for Kaz Brekker.  He did not respond to orders, and he especially did not respond to being treated like a dog.  In fact, if it weren’t for the sudden, drastic change in Kaz’s appearance, Matthias might have.  

Earlier that day, Matthias had found himself - regretfully - marveling at Brekker’s great bravery.  He’d been impressed with Kaz’s ability to hold himself so stoic, so calculated, despite the chaos happening around him.  Now, though, Brekker was wearing that chaos on his sleeve.  

The hastily closed wound on his cheek had turned red and angry over the course of the past few hours.  Matthias knew that it must be aching by now, throbbing with Kaz’s pulse and making every second feel like five.  Beyond that, Kaz’s usual neatly combed hairstyle had been undone, becoming a touseled mess as if he’d run his fingers through it one too many times and now loose strands stood in every direction.  The dim lighting of Kaz’s living room left him cast in nothing but sharp lines and shadows, and there was a new, dangerous gleam in his eyes that Matthias didn’t think he’d ever witnessed before.  

For that reason, Matthias ignored his instinct to push against Brekker’s authority and, instead, simply made himself comfortable on the edge of the couch.  A light breeze hit his face as he sat, and if it hadn’t been for that, Matthias might not have noticed The Wraith perched sideways in the open window, one leg dangling in the cool Ketterdam air.  For a brief moment, Matthias felt a pang of panic in his chest that she might fall, but The Wraith did not seem the least bit bothered by the wind ruffling a few loose strands of her damp hair.  

So, Matthias abandoned his concern and turned his attention back to Brekker, who was still watching him with a dark, heavy gaze.  

“Alright, Brekker,” Matthias began, leaning his elbows onto his knees.  “What is all of this about?” 

“Gang’s not all here yet.”  Kaz flicked the growing ash off the tip of his cigarette without dropping his stare.  “Did you bring your phone with you?” 

Matthias blinked, feeling his confusion written all over his face.  “What?” 

“Did you bring your phone with you?” Kaz repeated, slower this time, mocking him.  “Or did you leave it at the hotel?” 

Inexplicably, Matthias flicked his gaze toward Nina, hoping that she’d be able to offer him some insight as to what in the world was going on.  Instead, though, her face held the same perplexed expression. 

“I brought it with me,” Matthias answered, turning his eyes back to Kaz.  

The Dreg took another drag off of his cigarette before sitting it down in the ashtray.  A thin trail of smoke twined its way toward the ceiling as Kaz stepped closer to Matthias.  

“Can I see it?” 

Matthias stared at the pale, outstretched hand in front of him.  “ What ?” 

“Do I need to repeat everything I say tonight?” Kaz asked brusquely.  “Can I see your phone?  I only need it for a second.” 

Again, Matthias found himself sending a look in Nina’s direction, and he found her already watching him with her brows drawn together.  She offered him the briefest of shrugs, and Matthias knew that was the best answer he was going to get.  If Nina had no clue what was going on, Matthias didn’t stand a chance of figuring out Kaz Brekker’s convoluted plan.  So, despite the hesitation he felt, he slipped his phone from his back pocket and placed it in Brekker’s waiting palm.  

Kaz examined the screen, and he must not have found what he was looking for because he then flipped the device over to look at the back.  He took a step away from Matthias, then another, then a third, and then he bent forward and placed the phone gingerly on the ground.  

Bewildered, Matthias sat forward.  “What’re you-” 

His question was cut off by the sound of Kaz Brekker’s boot slamming against the screen.  As the glass shattered, Nina inhaled a sharp gasp, and Matthias sprang to his feet. 

“What is wrong with you?” he demanded, storming forward.  

Calmly, as if he weren’t currently grinding the heel of his boot into the only connection Matthias had with his home, Kaz ordered, “Sit down.” 

“I will not ,” Matthias argued.  The vague irritation that he’d felt minutes before was now bubbling into a red-hot anger.  “How am I supposed to contact anyone from home without my phone?” 

“You can’t,” Kaz stated simply, and his nonchalance made Matthias burn.  “That’s  the point.” 

As Kaz bent down to lift the device again, Matthias threw his arms up in frustration.  “The point of what ?” 

“The point of tonight’s meeting,” Kaz explained absently, examining the destroyed device in his hand.  Then, a thought seemed to come to him, and without a moment’s hesitation, Kaz slung the phone in the direction of the window.  The Wraith, seemingly anticipating the action, dropped her knee just in time for the phone to go sailing past her into the Ketterdam night.  

“Kaz!” Nina chided, but Matthias did not need her help.  He was exhausted, his one way of reaching out to his commander was ruined before his very eyes, and Brekker had the audacity to stand there and look pleased . 

“Are you insane?” Matthias snapped, stomping towards Kaz. 

“Probably,” Brekker replied, turning to brush past Matthias.  How like him , Matthias thought, to destroy and walk away .  

Not this time , Matthias told himself, grabbing Brekker by the arm.  “You owe me a new phone.” 

While Kaz was not small by any means, he was thinner and shorter than Matthias, which had foolishly convinced Matthias that he’d have the upper hand.  Matthias hadn’t even gotten a good grip on Brekker’s bicep before the man had spun on him and shoved with all of his strength.  The movement was so sudden and violent that Matthias lost his grip on Brekker’s jacket and stumbled backward, colliding with the wall beside the window.  Before he could collect himself, Kaz was on him again, both hands fisted in the front of Matthias’s shirt.  

His eyes blazed with rage as he said, “I don’t owe you a goddamn thing, Helvar, and I’ve already told you to sit down.  I will not be repeating myself for a third time.  Either you learn how to take direction, or I will make absolutely sure that you have no other choice than to stay down.” 

A rustling came from behind him, and Matthias glanced up in time to see Nina rising to her feet, her brows pulled together and her eyes filled with concern.  “Kaz, that’s enough .” 

But Kaz wasn’t listening.  His sights were set solely on Matthias, so Matthias turned all of his attention back to the man in front of him.  

“You do not scare me, Brekker,” Matthias spoke lowly.  Brekker, however, only grinned - a slow, maniacal grin. 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Matthias.  I don’t scare you yet.” He leaned in closer to Matthias’s space and dropped his voice low and dangerous.  “But I will.” 

Irritation twisted Matthias’s expression, and with a single, rough movement, Matthias brought one of his arms down over top of Kaz’s, tearing the shorter man’s hold on his shirt.  

“I’m done with your self-righteous nonsense,” Matthias spat, stomping toward the door.  “Make another deal with Brum.  I’m done.” 

“No, you’re not,” Kaz insisted, but Matthias ignored him.  

Matthias was only halfway across the living room when he heard the familiar click of a gun cocking behind him, and his feet went still.  

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Nina groaned, bringing both hands up to massage her temples.  

Matthias turned, his movements slow and cautious, and when he faced Kaz Brekker now, he was also staring down the barrel of a gun.  

“You’re not leaving this apartment,” Kaz said, the simple stating of a fact, and Matthias felt every muscle in his body grow tense.  

He shook his head quickly.  “I don’t understand.” 

He really, truly, didn’t.  He and Brekker had never been on good terms by any means, but Matthias had thought they’d at least had mutual respect for one another.  He wracked his brain and found no answer for what he could have done in the past couple of hours to go from Kaz’s acquaintance to his enemy.  

The front door to the apartment swung open behind Matthias, and there was a brief moment of silence before Jesper’s voice rang out, “Well, hello.  What have I missed this time?” 

Nina, who had been standing off to the side between Kaz and Matthias, turned to the door with a bewildered expression.  “Will you please talk to him?  He’s being fucking insane tonight.” 

“More than usual?” Jesper asked. 

Nina gestured wildly to the gun in Kaz’s hand. “ Obviously , Jesper.” 

Feet shuffled against the carpet, and then Jesper - along with Wylan, who trailed behind him at a distance - slid into Matthias’s periphery.  In a tired but thankfully unfrightened tone, Jesper suggested, “Kaz, maybe we put the gun down so that we can figure out what’s going on.” 

“I know what’s going on,” Kaz snapped, though his eyes hadn’t left Matthias.  “And I’ll put the gun down once he explains why Haskell had a recording of our conversation from last night.” 

Jesper had been ready to refute Kaz’s point, but then he faltered.  “What do you mean?” 

“I mean that while I sat in Haskell’s shitty office in The Crow Club, I had to listen to a word-for-word recording of all of us discussing our plan to watch his every move today,” Kaz spoke quickly, his control slipping.  “How did he get that, Matthias?” 

“How should I know?” Matthias argued, though confusion made his voice weak.  

Jesper glanced around the apartment.  “Could Haskell have had your place bugged?” 

Kaz shook his head. “Already checked.” 

Matthias could feel the suspicion in the air like a tangible thing.  He felt Nina and Jesper’s eyes turn on him, and their mistrust dug under his skin.  

“That’s what this is about?”  Matthias snapped, his anger overriding his concern for the gun in Kaz’s hand.  “You think I’m a rat?” 

Brekker merely shrugged.  “Someone in this room is.” 

“And you just assumed that it was me? Brekker, I know that we have never been anything remotely close to friends, but I knew you well before either of them did,” Matthias wagged a finger to gesture at Wylan before pointing at The Wraith, who simply stared at him unimpressed over Kaz’s shoulder.  “Why am I the only one being interrogated?” 

“Because of this,” Kaz said, inclining his head to the window.  “Show them.” 

For the first time since Matthias had entered the apartment, The Wraith left her perch on the windowsill.  The name, it would appear, was fitting, seeing as she seemed to float across the room like a lonesome spirit.  

She reached Jesper first, and from her pocket, she fished out a phone and held the screen up to him.  The angle made it impossible for Matthias to see, but whatever was there sent Jesper’s expression crumbling.  

“Fucking hell, Matthias,” he muttered as The Wraith walked away, heading for Nina next.  Nina, to her credit, said nothing to Matthias, but when her eyes met the phone screen, one of her hands came up to cover her mouth and her brows tipped together in disbelief.  

When The Wraith reached Wylan, he gazed at the phone screen with a puzzled expression.  “W-what am I looking at?” 

“That,” Kaz began, his voice loud in the tension-heavy room.  “Is the leader of The Dregs having a meeting with none other than Fjerdan’s esteemed Jarl Brum - also known as Matthias’s commander.” 

Matthias felt the chill of shock deep in his bones.  “What?” 

As if answering his question, The Wraith appeared in front of him like an apparition.  Her jaw was stern and her gaze hard as she offered the phone to him.  

Matthias did not want to look.  If he looked, there was a possibility that Kaz would be correct, and that possibility was enough to make Matthias’s stomach turn.  He couldn’t be right.  It wasn’t possible.  It just… wasn’t .  

“Look at the picture, Matthias,” Kaz pressed, a smug edge in his voice.  

Matthias’s eyes slid towards the phone screen of their own volition, betraying him as they did. And, as his gaze locked in on the blurry, grainy photograph on The Wraith’s phone, his blood ran cold.  It didn’t matter how unclear the image was.  Matthias knew that face as well as his own.  

“Do you know how we deal with rats in The Barrel, Matthias?” Kaz demanded. 

Matthias shook his head, both in response to Kaz’s question and the disbelief he felt as he stared at the photo.  How many countless hours had Matthias spent listening to Brum rave about the dangers of Ketterdam, and yet there he stood face-to-face with one of Ketterdam’s most dangerous men?  Hadn’t Brum torn apart Matthias’s own life at one point for being involved in the Dregs, and here he was, doing the same?   

Kaz, undeterred by Matthias’s silence, finally answered his own question.  “We drown them.” 

Kaz muttered the words so easily, so simply, that they barely sounded like a threat, but Matthias was finding it hard to breathe anyway.  

“I am not a rat,” he insisted, still staring at the photo in The Wraith’s hand.  Against his own will, he reached towards the phone, as if touching it would make the evidence more real.  The Wraith sidestepped his grasp, though, and she tucked the phone away into her pocket before Matthias could get one last look.  

“If you’re not a rat,” Kaz began, “then how do you explain that picture?” 

Again, Matthias shook his head, searching for anything to explain what he knew could not be true.  “I don’t know.  Maybe…maybe the picture is fabricated.” 

“It’s not.” 

“We don’t know that,” Matthias argued.  He turned accusatory eyes toward The Wraith.  “How do we know she didn’t tamper with the photo?” 

The Wraith narrowed her eyes, and then, for the first time that evening, she spoke.  “I have no reason to lie.” 

“That we know of,” Matthias snapped.  He turned his attention back to Kaz.  “She’s new, and she’s quiet, and she sticks to the shadows to avoid our attention.  It would be so easy for her to double-cross you.  Who’s to say she didn’t record our conversation and send it to Haskell?”

Kaz considered Matthias for a long moment.  In fact, he was quiet for so long that Matthias thought maybe, just maybe, he’d shed enough doubt on his own involvement that Kaz might lay down his gun.  However, when Brekker finally broke his silence, Matthias knew he didn’t have a chance. 

“I was expecting a lot of things from you, Matthias, but I wasn’t expecting you to play dumb with me.  We’ve all seen the picture.  We all know the truth.  Now, I just need to hear you say the words.” 

“I didn’t do anything,” Matthias insisted, fear and anger making his voice grow in volume.  “Something isn’t right!  Brum would never be involved with someone like Haskell!” 

Off to the side, Nina snorted.  “The same way he’d never make a deal with a man like Kaz Brekker?” 

The look that Matthias sent her was sharp enough to cut.  He had enough on his plate tonight. He did not need her adding to it.  “Mind your business.” 

“This is my business,” Nina snapped, dropping her crossed arms.  “This is all of our business.  If Haskell has a recording of us plotting against him, what do you think he’ll do to us, Matthias?” 

“That is not my concern.” 

“Isn’t it?  You feed him information and then you…what?  Just get to just walk away like it never happened?” She paused to scoff at him.  “You love to do that, don’t you?” 

Matthias bristled, and his volume rose as he spat, “I fed him nothing .” 

“Bullshit, Matthias!” Nina yelled back.  “We’ve all seen the picture!” 

“It’s blurry,” Matthias argued.  “We can’t know for certain that it’s Brum.” 

“I’ve met your commander exactly once and even I can tell that it’s him, Matthias.  Get your head out of your ass and own up to what you’ve done.” 

“I didn’t do anything!” Matthias practically roared, desperate for someone, anyone, in this room to believe him.  “If Brum was in the city, I knew nothing about it. I don’t-” 

“You’re a fucking liar,” Nina interrupted, her face turning red with her own anger and betrayal.  “You always were, weren’t you?”  

Matthias could feel the weight of her words hanging over his head, waiting to drop, ready to take him down if he let them.  Matthias refused .  “You never understood.” 

Nina laughed then, though the sound was filled with far more disgust than humor.  “You’re right, Matthias.  I never did understand how someone as big and strong and scary as you like to pretend you are could be such a massive, pathetic coward.” 

“Do not,” Matthias warned.  

“Or what?” Nina challenged, tilting her chin defiantly.  It was a look that Matthias had grown used to during his last stay in Ketterdam.  Then, though, the look had been followed by a mischievous grin that lightened everything within his vision.  Now, the look on Nina’s face was poised for a fight - a real one.  

When Matthias failed to answer, Nina took a step forward.  “What’re you going to do, Matthias?  Run home crying to your two-faced commander daddy so he can compare me to garbage again?” 

“Enough,” Matthias snapped.  “You do not get to speak about him that way.” 

“Oh, that is rich , Matthias,” Nina’s voice dripped with venom.  “Which part was it that offended you?  Two-faced, or daddy?  If the rumors I’ve heard about him are true, he’d probably like the-” 

Matthias’s rage found its tipping point, and suddenly he forgot about the gun aimed at his chest and he turned his sights onto Nina.  As he started for her, he yelled, “I said enough!” 

He’d nearly reached her - though, he’d yet to decide what he planned to do once he had - when the deafening sound of a bang cut through the room.  Pain, white-hot and blinding, met Matthias’s ankle, and his legs gave out beneath him.  In an instant, Matthias found himself face down on the ground in Kaz Brekker’s apartment, his forehead mere inches from Nina’s feet.  

With a quiet groan, Matthias twisted his head, expecting to find Kaz’s gun still trained on him.  Instead, though, Kaz’s hand had dropped, and his gaze had finally left Matthias to land on someone else.  Matthias followed his line of sight to Jesper, who now had one of his twin pistols in his hand, smoke billowing lightly from the barrel.  

“Did you shoot me?” Matthias demanded, trying to roll his throbbing ankle only to be met with a stab of pain.  

“Seems like I did, yes,” Jesper answered, his tone light but his face set in stone.  

“You could have killed me.” 

“Could have,” Jesper admitted, deftly returning his gun to its holster, and Matthias knew the Zemeni well enough to know that he was telling the truth.  “Didn’t.  Despite the fact that the evidence is stacked against you and that you nearly attacked one of my dear, dear friends, I’d like to at least allow you one more chance to explain yourself.” 

Matthias tried organizing his thoughts into a defense, but between the confusion, anger, and pain now warring in his brain, all that came out was, “I wouldn’t hurt her.” 

“Sure didn’t look that way,” Kaz interrupted, and then Matthias felt a rough shove at his shoulder that rolled him onto his back.  Before Matthias could move, Kaz pressed one of his sleek black boots against the base of Matthias’s throat.  “And let it be known now, Helvar, that if you even look like you’re trying to move against one of my own again, I will not feel an ounce of remorse when I put a bullet in your head and send it off to your precious commander with a pretty little bow on top.  

Matthias tried to speak, but all he managed was a wheezed, “ Brekker- ” 

“Shh,” Kaz hushed, though the sound was far more menacing than comforting. “I’ll level with you, Matthias.  I’ve had a shitty fucking day.  For that reason, I’m going to give you one chance to tell me the truth, and it will be the only chance you get.  If I don’t like what you have to say…well, then it’s lights out, isn’t it?  Nod if you understand me.” 

Matthias grit his teeth, and the pressure against his throat only increased until, finally, he nodded.  When he did, Brekker did not let him up, but he did back off just enough to allow Matthias air. 

None of this made sense.  Commander Brum was supposed to be in Fjerda, he was supposed to be running his military academy and waiting to find out when Matthias would be able to return.  He was supposed to hate the Kerch, hate Ketterdam, hate all of the people within it.  Try as Matthias might, he couldn’t force his brain to wrap around the idea that Brum might be here , in Ketterdam, taking private meetings with one of the most powerful men in The Barrel.  

“I don’t know what Brum is doing,” Matthias finally spoke, his voice weakened by shock and the weight leveraged against his throat.  “He rarely involves me in business dealings anymore, even in Fjerda.  He says…he says he has to learn to trust me again, after last time.” 

Kaz’s eyes narrowed as he searched Matthias’s face for any evidence of truth.  “How did Haskell get that recording?” 

“I don’t know,” Matthias repeated, desperation seeping out of him.  “I swear.  I suppose it wouldn’t be that hard for him to bug my phone if he really wanted to, but if he did, I knew nothing about it.” 

As Kaz considered him, Matthias closed his eyes and tried to gather his thoughts.  It was a messy business.  Accusations and defenses and anger wrestled with one another in his head, and yet Matthias found himself back in the car with Brekker many hours before.  

“You’re a liar,”  Matthias had accused as he waited for Brekker to spill whatever nonsense he’d crafted up about Brum. 

“And not the only one.” 

Back in the present, Kaz demanded.  “What business would Brum have with Haskell?” 

Again, the same words fell from Matthias’s lips, only this time they sounded like a plea.  “I don’t know .” 

“Think, Helvar,” Kaz snapped, having no sympathy for the fact that Matthias’s world felt like it was crumbling around him.   “The last time you spoke, did he say anything that might give you some hint as to what he’s up to?” 

“No, he just-”  Matthias paused, feeling guilt spread through his limbs like tar as he realized what he was about to say.  He knew that his duty as a soldier was to stay loyal to his commander, but…Brum had lied to him.  Over, and over, and over.  How much trust was Matthias supposed to put into a man who didn’t even bother with telling him the truth?  The man who was committing the same sins he condemned Matthias for only a year ago? 

“He wanted me to keep an eye on you,” Matthias admitted, and the weight of those words felt like they might crush him.  “He said you would be a good man to have in our back pocket, so I should keep my eye on you and report back to him with any…information that might prove itself useful.  But, Kaz, I swear , I haven’t even spoken to Brum since my plane landed.” 

For a few, long, excruciating seconds, only silence answered Matthias.  It was Jesper who finally ventured to speak.  “So he bugged Matthias’s phone, heard our plan to overthrow Haskell, and is using that as blackmail against you?” 

“Doesn’t make sense,” Kaz replied, considering Matthias for a moment longer before, finally, he lifted his boot from Matthias’s neck.  The relief was nearly enough to take Matthias out completely.  “If he were going to blackmail me, he’d have come to me with that information.  Instead, he went straight to Haskell.  Why?” 

“Maybe Brum wants to venture into some Barrel business?” Nina suggested, though even she didn’t seem convinced by the idea.  “It’d be easier to convince Haskell to join forces with him without you in the picture.”

“A possibility,” Kaz relented, taking a few steps toward the window, where The Wraith had found her perch again. “I think, perhaps, we’d all be better off coming back to this tomorrow with a fresh mind.  You all need sleep, and I need to plan.” 

There was a beat of uncomfortable silence before Jesper asked, “So, Matthias is clear, then?” 

Kaz shrugged. “I believe him.” 

Matthias wished he had enough energy left to express the relief flooding through him.  Instead, in his exhausted state, he simply let his eyes slip shut and sighed his appreciation. 

“Thank god,” Jesper responded, and then there were hands tugging at Matthias’s arms.  He reluctantly slid his eyes open and found Jesper attempting to pull him upright, though it seemed to be a bit of a struggle on his end.  “Sorry about the ankle, Matthias.  It’s just a graze, really.  Should only have a bit of a limp for the next day or two.” 

With a groan, Matthias allowed himself to be hauled to his feet.  “Yeah, thanks for that.” 

It was with great reluctance - and with her eyes cast downward - that Nina offered, “I can drive you back to the hotel.” 

Despite the animosity between them, Matthias was moments away from eagerly accepting anything that would help him avoid walking on his aching ankle.  However, he found himself interrupted before he could agree.  

“No,” Kaz snapped.  “No one is leaving this apartment building until we figure out what the hell is going on and what our next steps are going to be.  We can’t afford to let anything else slip.”  

Nina raised two delicate brows at him. “I’m assuming that Matthias will be staying with you, then?” 

Kaz took the time to light a new cigarette before answering, “No.” 

“Well, then, Jesper, I hope you have plenty of space on your floor.”  With that, Nina turned to head for the door, her arms folded across her chest.  

“He’s staying with you,” Kaz called after her, and Nina’s feet faltered.  Matthias nearly intervened on her behalf - and his, to be fair (he didn’t want to be stuck with her anymore than she wanted to be stuck with him).  However, Matthias had just gotten himself out from beneath Kaz’s boot, and he had no intention of returning there this quickly. So, he kept his mouth closed and decided to let Nina fight this battle all on her own.  After all, it wouldn’t be her first show down with Brekker. 

She cast a dark look at Kaz over her shoulder.  “He absolutely is not.” 

“Well, he’s not going back to that hotel, Jesper already has Wylan, and if he stays with me, there’s a high probability he won’t make it until morning.” 

“I thought you said you believed him?” 

“Didn’t say I liked him, though,” Kaz motioned to the door, a clear dismissal.  Nina ignored the gesture.   Instead, she stomped towards him, trying to pitch her voice low.  

The room was too small to allow any real privacy, though, so Matthias was still able to hear her when she said, “Kaz, please don’t do this to me again.” 

“I have bigger problems to deal with tonight than your broken heart,” Kaz replied, though he didn’t bother lowering his tone at all.  “I need you to do your job and follow orders.  I figured someone who wanted to be a soldier so bad could manage that.  So, can you or can’t you?” 

Nina’s posture had gone rigid, but she must have been able to sense the dark, dangerous tone in Kaz’s voice.  However reluctant she was, she finally nodded.  

“Sure thing, boss ,” she spat, though she brandished a middle finger in his face before turning for the door.  Yet again, she didn’t bother waiting for Matthias, but she left the front door to Brekker’s apartment wide open. When no one else moved or spoke, Matthias finally realized that he had no other choice than to follow, though it felt like walking straight to his death as he did. 

One year ago:

Falling in love with Nina Zenik was like sinking into a scalding hot bath.  At first, Matthias had jerked away from the heat, determined that it would do nothing but burn him.  Slowly, though, his body had adjusted, and he had sunk down into the warmth, letting it wrap around him like an embrace.  Now, he felt as though he’d never want to leave. 

If someone asked him how he’d ended up here - leaning into Nina’s touch like it was all he had as his head spun from wine and the effects of her - only eight months after their first meeting, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to answer them.  All he knew was that she’d slipped her way into his life like a rogue breeze, and he had been far too weak to keep her out.  Though, now he wondered if he’d ever really wanted to. 

“Matthias!” Nina squealed gleefully, interrupting his thoughts.  She tipped her head back with a laugh as he dipped her low, and the ends of her hair just barely brushed the floor before he pulled her upright again.  

“What’s wrong?” he asked, but she was grinning and breathless.  Faint music filled the air around them, and Matthias had lost count of how many times he’d found himself swaying to the same song with Nina wrapped in his arms.  

“I’ve never seen you quite so…eager,” Nina answered, tipping her chin back to get a better view of him.  “What’s gotten into you?” 

“You,” Matthias answered, honest and simple. 

Nina chuckled and cast a pointed look at the two empty glasses on the nearby coffee table.  “And the wine, perhaps?” 

“Perhaps,” Matthias relented.  “Mostly you, though.  You bewitched me.” 

“Bewitched?” she gaped mockingly at him.  “I did no such thing.” 

“You did,” he spoke with a quiet laugh, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead as the music swelled in the background.  “The minute we met, I knew there was a spell on me.” 

Nina rolled her eyes.  Matthias had learned in the many months since their first meeting that this was one of her go-to expressions, and he found it endearing no matter how many times he’d seen it. “You’re being dramatic.” 

Matthias shook his head.  “Honest.” 

Nina stopped their gentle swaying to stand on her toes, her lips a breath away from his.  Despite how often the two of them had found themselves this close to one another, it always made Matthias’s breath catch. 

“If you’re under my spell, does that mean I can command you to do whatever I wish?” 

“Always,” Matthias answered, and he wondered for a moment if Nina’d been right and he was being a bit dramatic tonight.  Though, that didn’t stop him from watching with delight as Nina’s lips curled into a smug grin. 

“Then I command you to kiss me,” she challenged, flicking those dangerous green eyes up to meet his.  

He did not bother with words, and when their lips met, Matthias knew that he would never recover from her.  As her soft fingers held onto him like a lifeline, he knew he’d be addicted to her touch for the rest of his life.  There was nothing on this planet that made him feel as full and content as he did with Nina Zenik in his arms. 

As their kisses turned hungry and their caresses turned into fingertips digging into skin, Matthias knew he was well and truly hopeless.  He pulled away just long enough to catch his breath, to steady himself, and Nina seized her opportunity to let her lips find his throat.  She’d learned Matthias’s weaknesses quickly, and she liked to poke at them as often as she could. 

Matthias’s hands tightened on her hips as Nina’s tongue lashed out over his pulse point.  With a sound that was nearly a growl, he leaned away and took her face in both of his hands, relishing the mischievous smirk on her face. 

“You’re so…” 

When words failed him, Nina lifted a challenging brow.  “I’m so what , Matthias?” 

In lieu of an answer, Matthias kissed her hard, and when she sighed against his lips, his knees grew weak.  

“Djel,” he breathed against her lips, not sure if it was a prayer or a curse.  As she smiled into the kiss, Matthias breathed, “I love-” 

Realization cut his words off sharply.  He reared back, as if struck, only to find Nina staring up at him with wide, eager eyes.  

“No, no,” she insisted, an evil grin spreading across her cheeks.  “Please finish that thought.  You love…what, Matthias?” 

“Nothing,” he insisted, dropping his arms and taking a step back from her.  “I…” he glanced at the clock on the stove and nearly keeled over in relief when he noticed the time.  “I need to go pick up our dinner.” 

“Uh huh,” Nina said, clearly hiding a laugh.  “That’s convenient timing, isn’t it?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied, grabbing his coat from where he’d slung it over the arm of a chair earlier.  “I’ll be back in ten.  Wait here?” 

Nina nodded.  “Sure.  I’ll pour us some more wine while I wait.  Maybe that’ll loosen your lips enough to share with the rest of the class what you love so much, hmm?” 

Matthias scowled, but he still took the time to kiss her chastely before he slipped out of the door, listening to her quiet giggle behind him.  

As he headed down to the street, Matthias was busy chastising himself.  Had he really almost let that slip?  Were those words even something he was capable of?  Maybe he hadn’t been that far off when he’d claimed she’d bewitched him.  After all, when had he ever in his life felt this twisted up inside? 

“Matthias.”  

The sharp, rough sound of a familiar voice forced Matthias’s feet to a stop. He’d been far too lost in his own head as he reached the sidewalk, but if he hadn’t been, he might have noticed the dark SUV parked by the curb before it was too late. 

With ice in his veins and a lump in his throat, Matthias turned slowly.  Next to the car stood a tall, far-too-familiar form.  

“Commander,” Matthias breathed, and his body straightened on instinct. The chill of seeing Brum in front of him had knocked most of his memory of decorum and respect out of place, though, and Matthias asked rudely, “Why are you here?” 

Brum’s eyes scraped over Matthias, and his disgust was barely contained.  “I went to your professor’s house to pay you a surprise visit, but he said you’d gone out this morning and had yet to return.  In fact, he said you’ve been disappearing quite a bit recently.” 

Seeing Brum standing on a dirty Ketterdam street was enough to give Matthias whiplash.  His reply came out late and sounded unsure.  “I was just…visiting a friend.”  

“A friend,” Brum mumbled, nodding slowly as displeasure spread across his features.  “You know, when I traced your phone to this address, there was a small part of me that hoped we’d just find your body growing cold in one of these grotesque apartments.” 

“W-what?” Matthias demanded as his stomach churned uncomfortably. 

“According to the small amount of research I managed to do before you walked out,” Brum explained, stalking toward Matthias, “this is known Dregs territory.  So, I had to ask myself what a respectable young man like you might be doing in a known gang hideout, and the only reasonable explanation I could come up with is this:  this horrific city must have finally taken you over just like I’d warned.” 

He shook his head, but his mind swirled.  “No, I didn’t-”

“Have you been drinking?” 

Matthias froze.  His gut instinct was to argue, to defend himself, but he knew the second his lips parted that there’d be no point in lying.  Sensing Matthias’s hesitation, Brum stepped forward until he was close enough that Matthias could feel the heat of his body, and then he inhaled deeply.  When he pulled away, his lips were curled in distaste. 

“Djel, this city truly has consumed you, hasn’t it?” 

“No,” Matthias demanded, finally finding his tongue despite the fact that it felt like his brain was still swimming.  “Commander Brum, with all due respect, I think you misunderstand.  This city is far more amicable than you made it out to be, and there’s even-” 

“Who is she?” 

Matthias’s throat tightened, but he still managed weakly, “Who is who?” 

“Whatever girl has clawed her way into your brain and scooped out all of your good sense,” Brum spat.  When Matthias failed to answer, his voice grew louder.  “I’m not an idiot, Matthias.  I know corruption when I see it, and I can smell it festering on you at this very moment.” 

Against his will, Matthias shrank from the volume.  “I’m not-” 

“You just waltzed our way out of a gang hideout reeking of wine and cheap perfume, and you want to stand there and argue with me?” 

Matthias bit the inside of his cheek.  “No, sir.” 

Brum sucked his teeth, his irritation and disappointment rolling off him in waves that threatened to knock Matthias off his feet.  “Do you have any idea what could have happened to my political career if someone had seen you leaving a place like this?” 

Matthias blinked.  “I…I don’t…” 

“Of course you don’t,” Brum huffed out an unamused chuckle.  “You know, Matthias, I brought you into my home because I saw a world of potential in you.  Even when you were nothing but a runt with tear-stained cheeks, I knew that there was something special about you.  And yet, less than a year in this city and you’re just letting these disgusting vagrants take you?” 

“I am not-” 

“It’s this girl, isn’t it?” Brum snapped, that same authoritative tone that Matthias had grown used to over the past several years.  

When Matthias had to look away instead of answering, Brum let out a scoff.  

“Of course.  Of course, I should have known when you left to come here that distractions like this would be hard for you.  I just foolishly assumed that you’d be stronger than this.” 

Something in Matthias snapped, and he cut his eyes sharply at Brum.  “I am not weak for this.” 

“No?  Let me guess, Matthias.  Did she tell you all about how wrong you were about her city?  About her?  Did she show you pretty things and whisper sweet words in your ear that would drown out the madness of this place?” 

Matthias ground his teeth together, but he refused to speak.  

“Did she smile at you, Matthias? Laugh at your silly Fjerdan ways? Distract you with soft touches until you were too far over the edge to realize you were falling?” 

“Stop,” Matthias breathed, feeling an unfamiliar urge to turn and run .  It would be so easy to leave Brum behind him, to let his feet drag him back up those stairs and allow himself to fall into Nina’s arms.  Maybe she’d tease him for acting like a big baby, maybe she’d giggle at how he tried to make himself small in her embrace, but she’d still hold him, and she’d soak up every bit of his pain until it was theirs, until it was nothing.  

“You want me to stop?” Brum demanded, dragging Matthias back from his daydream.  “I’m trying to help you.  As a matter of fact, I think I might be the only one trying to help you, just like I was the only one willing to take a chance on you all those years ago when my troops found you.  You remember that, don’t you?  You were so small, and so cold, and so alone, and I forced my men to stop for you.” 

Matthias felt his eyes begin to burn.  “I remember.” 

“Do you?  After everything I’ve done for you, do you think this is the best way to repay me?” 

“No, sir,” Matthias answered, forcing his eyes to stay on the concrete beneath his feet.  

Brum sighed, a loud and defeated sound.  “I mean to think that you were supposed to be working on learning how to take over my position in a few years.” 

His eyes shot up to Brum’s.  “I’m supposed to what?” 

“I wasn’t going to tell you yet,” Brum muttered, running a hand over his forehead.  “The plan was for me to step down in the next five…ten years, and by then, you’d have been fully trained to step into my shoes.  You’re the only person I trust enough to-”  Brum broke off, then corrected, “that I trusted , but now…now I’m not so sure if this is the best plan anymore.” 

Matthias’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest.  This is what he’d spent his entire life preparing for.  This is what he’d dreamed of.  Impressing Brum.  Being able to pay him back for saving his life all those years ago.  Being able to prove, once and for all, that it hadn’t been a mistake.  

And now he’d ruined it.  

“You can still trust me,” Matthias defended, the words falling out of his mouth before he’d had time to think.  “I want to fix this.  I’ll do whatever it takes.” 

Brum shook his head.  “The only way to fix this is to get you out of this city - now.” 

In his head, Matthias saw Nina, imagined her bright green eyes sparkling up at him, her mischievous grin tugging at his edges.  He felt like he was being ripped apart.  “I still have a few months left with the professor, and then I’ll-” 

“No, no,” Brum interrupted with a shake of his head.  “This place is too…alluring for you.  You’ve already changed from the man you used to be.  I have no desire to see what a few more months in this city might do to you.” 

Matthias’s throat was so tight he could barely speak.  “She… I can’t just leave .” 

“I hate to have to do this, Matthias, but I’m afraid I have no other choice.  I’m worried that if we don’t do something immediately, you might find yourself too far gone.”  Brum sighed heavily, as if a weight were on him. “You need to make a decision.  Either you come home with me right now, or you will not have a home to return to.” 

Within a breath, the ground beneath Matthias’s feet crumbled.  The only family he’d ever had, the only home he’d ever truly known, was about to be ripped away from him for good.  If he chose Nina, he’d sever every tie he had to his homeland, to the place where his real parents had once lived, to the place where all his memories resided.  But if he chose Brum… 

Matthias was falling, and, for whatever reason, the only person close enough to catch him was his commander.  He met Matthias’s frantic, frightened gaze with his own that was filled with the same promise of safety that Matthias had found solace in all those years ago when Brum had first taken a chance on him.  

“Fine,” Matthias ground out, feeling a heat behind his eyes as he made his choice.  “I left some things upstairs.  I need…I need to get them before we go.” 

The scoff that Brum let out was so bitter that it made Matthias flinch because he knew it meant Brum understood.  “You have ten minutes to tell your Barrel girlfriend goodbye, and then we are getting in this car and leaving.”  

“Yes,” Matthias’s voice wavered, “sir.” 

Brum reached forward, slamming what was likely supposed to be a reassuring hand onto Matthias’s shoulder.  “It doesn’t feel like it now, Matthias, but this is for your own good.  Do you understand me?” 

Matthias forced himself to nod, but the rest of his body felt too numb to react.  Brum muttered beneath his breath, words that Matthias couldn’t decipher with his brain spinning this fast, and then the commander turned toward the car.  

“Your ten minutes start now,” Brum announced, opening the car door closest to him, and despite the confusion that Matthias felt all the way down to his bones, he managed to turn and head for the building.  

Though, as he walked back toward the apartment, back toward Nina, toward what was likely going to be the hardest goodbye he’d ever had to say, he felt himself shattering, leaving pieces of himself to land on the sidewalk at his feet.  

Chapter Text

“I could sleep for the next week and it wouldn’t be enough,” Jesper groaned, shutting his eyes as he leaned against his now locked apartment door.  He could feel the weight of the past twenty-four hours hanging off of him at every limb, tugging him toward the earth.  Jesper wished desperately that he could finally give in and plant himself face first in his bed, but when he opened his eyes and lifted his gaze, he knew it would be a while yet before he found rest.

Wylan had only made it a few steps in front of him before his legs had forced him to pause, and now he stood rigid with his gaze set somewhere far beyond the four walls of this apartment.  His drooping shoulders and the dark circles beneath his eyes left him looking remarkably small, and his eyebrows dipped together in the center as he lost himself in a series of thoughts that Jesper was not privy to. 

After letting this silent self-destruction go on for a few more moments, Jesper sighed and shoved away from the door. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Hmm?” Wylan hummed distractedly.  He turned his head in Jesper’s direction, but it took his eyes another second to follow.

“You’ve been quiet,” Jesper explained, taking a couple steps forward.  “And this,” he poked the tiny divot digging in between Wylan’s brows, “tells me that you’re thinking far too hard about something this late at night.”

Wylan barely even tensed at the touch, which was Jesper’s sign that something was really wrong.  A constant that he’d grown used to in the past few days had been Wylan’s predictable fluster when Jesper grew close enough to touch.  This time, though, Wylan simply gave a quick shake of his head, letting his eyes fall away from Jesper once more. 

“It’s nothing.”

The quiet that followed made Jesper shift uncomfortably.  This was the quiet that came before a storm – the quiet that precedes darkness.  And, as Jesper studied the stiff, distant, almost frightened boy in front of him, he couldn’t shake the desire to just make it all better. 

So, without another word, he turned and headed into the kitchen.  At first, Wylan stayed where he was, still lost somewhere inside his own head. In fact, it wasn’t until Jesper had finished boiling the water and pouring two mugs of tea that he finally heard the shuffling of feet behind him. 

“Tea?” Jesper asked as he turned.  He held one of the mugs out in offering, and Wylan accepted it without question.  He didn’t drink, but his fingers did curl gratefully around the nearly-too-hot mug.    

Jesper took a sip of his own tea before venturing again, “Let’s try one more time.  What’s wrong? And do not say nothing.”

Jesper had clearly stolen the word from his lips, because Wylan sighed roughly and closed his mouth.  He ran a hand through the perpetually messy curls atop his head, tugging absently at a knot for a moment before dropping his hand to his side with an audible slap.  “I feel…like I’m in over my head.”

“Ah,” Jesper nodded knowingly.  He remembered that feeling well enough from his first few weeks with The Dregs, and he supposed he should have been prepared for the pressure to hit Wylan sooner rather than later. All things considered, though, Wylan had been holding his own well enough.  He’d have to earn his keep eventually, have to prove himself to The Dregs and Kaz, but for now, he was learning the ropes faster than most new recruits were.  “Coming into The Dregs is a big adjustment.  You’ll get there.”

Wylan nodded, though it was clear that something was still gnawing at him inside his mind.  A silence settled over the two of them as they stood – Jesper leaning against the kitchen counter, Wylan leaning against the opposite wall – and sipped quietly from their mugs. Though it was a challenge, Jesper bit his tongue as he waited, leaving the silence wide open for Wylan to fill whenever he was ready.

Finally, in a small, timid voice, Wylan asked, “What would Kaz have done if Matthias had been feeding information to that commander?”

Jesper took a deep breath as he considered all he knew about Kaz Brekker.  “Do you want the honest answer, or do you want the one that will make it easier for you to stick with your decision to join The Dregs?”

Wylan shrugged, uneasiness radiating off of him.  “I don’t know.”

“Kaz can be…intimidating, to say the least, but it’s like I told you before.  Kaz just takes care of what’s his, that’s all. While he’s been called ‘cruel’ or ‘heartless’ or any other awful thing, he is never called ‘unjust.’”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that if Matthias was a rat, Kaz would react appropriately.  The punishment would match the crime.  Maybe Kaz would take his tongue or a couple fingers.  Maybe chain him up in a warehouse across town and leave him for a few days.  Whatever he decided, though, it would be fair.”

Wylan, who looked a bit green around the edges now, asked, “But you don’t think he’d kill Matthias, do you?”

“Depends on how much information had made its way into Brum’s ear.”

When Wylan spoke next, his voice was barely a whisper.  “What about you?”

Jesper tipped his head. “What about me?”

“Would you have killed Matthias?”

“What?” Jesper reared back.

Wylan shrugged, refusing to meet Jesper’s eye. “You shot him.”

“He was going after Nina,” Jesper defended, setting down his mug on the counter beside him.  “Kaz was throwing out all of this crazy evidence, and I had no idea what Matthias might be capable of in that moment.  To answer your question, no.  I wouldn’t kill him.  In fact, I was very careful not to.  Besides, it wouldn’t be my place.  Kaz is the one who handles any threat that puts us in unnecessary danger.”

“Us?”

“Kaz wouldn’t be shocked that someone betrayed him,” Jesper explained, waving a dismissive hand.  “He expects that by now.  What he wouldn’t be able to move past would be someone endangering his gang, especially his inner circle.”

“Really?” Wylan asked, lifting one of his light colored brows. “He doesn’t even seem to like any of you very much.”

“He probably doesn’t,” Jesper admitted with a snort.  “But Nina and I have been with him for years.  We’re the only people he trusts enough to live in this building with him.”

“What about the rest of the apartments on the other floors?”

Jesper shook his head. “Empty. Kaz bought this place when he was 18, and it was an absolute mess. This floor was in the best condition, so it was the only floor he renovated. We’re the only ones in the whole place.”

Jesper couldn’t help the flash of memories from the day he’d moved in.  He’d been slumming it in The Slat for so long that he thought he might start to lose it soon, but then Kaz had called him for an impromptu meeting.  When Jesper had arrived at Kaz’s apartment, the Ketterdam native had slid a single, loose key across his desk in Jesper’s direction. 

It’s better to have you close by, he’d said, then waved Jesper away as if it were nothing more than a business decision.  And, maybe, that’s all it was.  However, Jesper hadn’t wasted a single moment.  He’d raced back to The Slat, packed up the one and only bag he owned with the sparse belongings he’d managed to keep with him, and had made it back to the apartment building within an hour.

“What makes you and Nina so special?” Wylan asked, interrupting the memory in Jesper’s mind.

“Honestly?  Nothing.  On paper, we’re just like every other Dreg down at The Slat. Though…sometimes I think that Kaz sees more of himself in the two of us than he does the others.  We’re all just kids who found our way into this shitty city through shit luck and shittier choices, but we’re bound and determined to dig ourselves back out one way or another.  I think Kaz sees the same in you.  Otherwise, he wouldn’t have let you stay.”

Though fear still lingered on his face, Wylan offered Jesper a slow nod.  His shoulders had softened a bit, at least, and he downed the remainder of his tea in a few rapid gulps.  Jesper held his hand out, and Wylan placed the mug against his palm without question.

“Don’t worry,” Jesper said, trying to wave away the remainder of tension swirling in the air around them. “Matthias isn’t exactly built for espionage, so I think we’re safe from having to watch him lose any body parts.”

Wylan’s eyes flew to Jesper’s wide and frantic once more. “We’d have to watch?”

Jesper stared at him.  “That was a joke, little prince.”

“Oh,” Wylan mumbled, dipping his chin in embarrassment.  While Jesper turned to put the two now empty mugs in the sink, Wylan fiddled with the hem of his borrowed shirt and said, “You know, you keep calling me that, but I don’t know if it really fits.”

“No?” Jesper asked, glancing over his shoulder. “What would be more accurate then?”

Wylan tipped his head against the wall as he thought.  “A jester, perhaps.”

Jesper snorted and turned to fully face Wylan again.  “You?  You’re far too pretty for that.”

It’d been fun recently, flirting with the boy who turned pink at even the simplest of suggestive statements.  His entire life, Jesper had toyed with his own charms.  He liked pressing buttons, seeing how far he could go, discovering who would play along and who would shut him down, watching men and women alike grow flustered as his eyes raked over them.  It was always an interesting game, but Wylan…Wylan was even more fun than the usual suspects.

He fed Jesper crumbs.  He’d shy away when Jesper got too close, but Jesper had long since lost count of how many times he’d caught the boy staring at him when he thought Jesper wasn’t paying attention.  He’d turn red with Jesper’s flirting, only to act irritated a moment later.  It had been difficult to get a read on him before, far more difficult than what Jesper was used to.  Though, tonight had begun to solidify some of Jesper’s suspicions. He couldn’t ignore the way that Wylan had saved his ass at the card tables tonight – an act he was far more grateful for than he could express.  He also couldn’t ignore the way that Wylan had leaned into Jesper’s touch as they’d strolled out of the room, or the way that Wylan’s face had fallen when Jesper had reluctantly forced himself to let go.

Now, as Wylan’s wide, blue eyes lifted to meet Jesper’s, he had to wonder if he was the only one playing a game of charm. 

“I don’t see what my face has to do with it.”

“Any king with half a mind would have you killed once he realized all his maidens were too busy fawning over you to give him any attention.”

Wylan held Jesper’s gaze for one…two…three full seconds, almost as if he were calculating the weight of his response.  Then, he scoffed and his eyes slid away from Jesper once more. “Well, it’s a good think I’m not exactly the maiden type, then.”

“What is your type, then?” Jesper knew he was teasing, knew it was unfair, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, Wylan answered, “Do we have to do this?”

“Aw, come on,” Jesper egged, pushing away from the counter and taking a step in Wylan’s direction.  All of the exhaustion he’d felt when he’d walked through the front door was now replaced with curiosity, and he could tell by the glint in Wylan’s eyes that, despite how hard he was trying to hide it, he was eager to see where this conversation was headed as well.  So, Jesper continued his teasing.

“Is it just that you want someone with more power than a maiden?” he pressed, still grinning mischievously. “A princess, perhaps? Or are your ambitions even higher than that? Maybe you’re aiming for the queen.”

Wylan scoffed, though he sounded more amused than annoyed this time.  “Is the king not an option?”

Jesper hissed in a breath, taking another slow step closer to Wylan.  “I think a king might be a bit out of your league.  Aim for a Duke if you’re lucky, viscount if you’re not.”

“Has everyone ever told you that you talk too much?” Wylan asked, tipping his head to the side.  A poorly contained smirk tugged at the corner of his lips despite how tired he looked, and his eyes tracked Jesper’s movements as he got closer and closer. 

“More often than I can count,” Jesper admitted, coming to a stop when he was just close enough to the other man that Wylan had to look up to meet his eye, which he seemed to be avoiding, at the moment.  “Level with me, though, little prince.  Please don’t tell me that you’re willing to go all the way down to a baron?”

“Does this all have to be a nobility metaphor?” Wylan asked, and Jesper nodded.  With a heaving sigh, Wylan continued, “I’d settle for the stable boy.  There, are you happy now?”

“Oh, ecstatic,” Jesper purred, and Wylan’s eyes skittered away from his again.  “Actually, a stable boy might be really good for you.”

“And why is that?”

“You could use someone to teach you a thing or two about the world.  You know, find your wild side and all that.”

Wylan gestured lazily around him. “I just joined a gang.  Is that not my wild side?”

“A step in the right direction, for sure,” Jesper relented. “But you still kiss like a prude.”

A tiny wrinkle appeared between Wylan’s brows, exposing his insult at Jesper’s accusation.  Jesper felt the most peculiar urge to smooth it away with his thumb, but managed to hold himself back as Wylan defended, “I-I was just surprised.”

“I could tell.”

Wylan huffed, refusing to hold Jesper’s gaze. “Well, it’s not like I was expecting you to kiss me while we were on a job!”

“Then when would you like me to kiss you?”

It was a jump, a leap, a play in Jesper’s favorite game of back and forth, and he knew it paid off when the wrinkled, irritated expression on Wylan’s face melted away.  When his eyes shot to Jesper’s, an emotion akin to guilt lingered in the pools of blue, like a boy who’d been caught reaching for the cookie jar.  Shock forced his lips to hang open, just for a moment, before he remembered to snap them closed.

“What’s the matter, little prince?” Jesper asked with a devilish grin.  He shuffled forward just a hair, and Wylan’s eyes clung to him as he did.  “Cat got your tongue?”

Wylan shook his head fervently.  “I never said I’d like to kiss you.”

“That’s okay,” Jesper assured. “You don’t have to say it.  I can see it written all over your face.”

“That isn’t true,” Wylan indignantly insisted, though even he didn’t sound like he truly believed it.

“Really?  Then why is it that your cheeks go all pink whenever I venture just a little too close?” Jesper asked, and color flushed over Wylan’s cheekbones as if on cue. “Why do you hold your breath whenever it looks like I might be leaning in?  Or, when I kissed you earlier, why could I feel your heart pounding against my own chest?”

His voice had dropped to a near whisper as he’d finished, and Wylan tore his eyes away before snapping, “This isn’t funny.”

“I never said it was,” Jesper acknowledged.  Then, his voice still low and quiet, he asked, “Did I ever tell you what I used to do before I moved to Ketterdam?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I was a farm hand,” Jesper explained, and a new grin appeared on his face, lacking the malice of mockery like the grin he’d worn before.  “Just a fancier term for stable boy, isn’t it?  So, if you ever need me to teach you a thing or two about ‘the wild side’, little prince, just say the word, and I’m yours.”

Wylan’s eyes flashed up to Jesper’s again, just for a second.  “That’s a bad idea, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” Jesper answered with a shrug. “But that’s my favorite kind of idea.”

“We shouldn’t-” Wylan cut himself off, swallowed, and tried again. “It wouldn’t be professional to get involved with one another when I’m trying to join The Dregs.”

“It’s a gang,” Jesper deadpanned. “Professionalism plays a very, very small role in our daily lives.”

Wylan hesitated, gnawing on his lower lip as he thought.  That single, mundane action drew Jesper’s attention within an instant and made his pulse pick up the pace. 

“What if it…doesn’t work?”  Wylan practically whispered the words, his eyes locked on the ground.  “Will that hurt my chances of joining The Dregs?”

His worry was a heavy thing, making his shoulders bend under the weight of it.  With a gentle sigh, Jesper reached forward and took Wylan’s chin in his hand.  With his thumb and forefinger, he tilted the boy’s head up until their eyes met.  Desire, worry, and guilt all swam in Wylan’s eyes, colliding into one another until they all became one massive, confusing emotion. 

“I was suggesting a kiss, Wylan, not a marriage proposal,” Jesper clarified, drinking in the sight of Wylan’s wide eyes that flickered toward Jesper’s lips seemingly without his permission.  “If you say no, then you say no, and we can both go to bed and pretend it never happened tomorrow.  That choice is yours.”

For a long moment, Wylan didn’t answer, but Jesper could see the cloud of emotions in his eyes clearing.  Finally, he swallowed loudly and asked, “Just one kiss?”

“Just one kiss,” Jesper agreed with a nod. “I promise.”

Wylan nodded to, a tiny motion barred by Jesper’s fingers still holding his chin in place.  “Do it, then.”

Jesper couldn’t help one last tease.  “Use your words, little prince.  You want me to do…what?”

Determination settled over Wylan’s features, but his voice was as quiet as a breeze when he answered, “Kiss me.”

And, so, Jesper did.  His hand at Wylan’s chin shifted, moving to cup his cheek as he leaned in.  He kept the press of his lips slow and gentle, savoring the softness of Wylan beneath them.  It wasn’t much of an improvement on their kiss from The Slat earlier in the night, but Jesper had promised only one kiss.  However, when he began to pull back, one of Wylan’s hands snapped forward to catch the front of Jesper’s shirt, halting his retreat. 

“One more?” Wylan asked, his voice hoarse with his restraint.  The desperate sound of it made it difficult for Jesper to find his words quickly, so, instead, he nodded.  Before he could lean back in, though, Wylan beat him to it.

Lips, hot and insistent and sure, crushed into Jesper’s, and shock momentarily swept over him. He came back to himself quickly, thank god, and shifted his hand at Wylan’s cheek once more so that his fingers got lost in the messy curls at the nape of Wylan’s neck.  A gentle tug there pulled Wylan’s head back further, which allowed Jesper a better angle and made Wylan’s breath hitch.

This kiss held none of the hesitation their earlier kisses had. It lacked the same worry, the same nerves, the same reluctance.  Where their kiss a moment before had been a spark, this was a raging fire.  Hands clutched at fistfuls of clothes while lips worked to elicit some type of reaction.  The warm slide of Wylan’s tongue past Jesper’s lips was enough to make him shiver, and, when he pressed Wylan between himself and the cool wall in response, a breathy sigh fell from the boy’s lips.

That sound alone was enough for Jesper to drown in, and by the time he finally did pull back for air – however reluctantly – his chest was heaving with the effort of his breaths as if he actually had.

Before him, Wylan was struggling to catch his breath as well.  His eyes had darkened, his parted lips were red, and his hands still held on to Jesper’s waist like his life depended on it. 

“Do I still kiss like a prude?” he managed to ask, still breathless. 

Jesper had the fight the urge to catch those delicate lips between his again before he replied, “No.  No, definitely not.”

“Maybe I don’t need the stable boy to teach me after all,” Wylan answered with a short, quiet laugh.  Slowly, their breath was evening out, their pulses were slowing back down, and, as they did, an air of awkwardness fell suddenly over them. 

“I, uh,” Wylan started, slowly uncurling his hands from Jesper’s waist and dropping them to his sides. “I should…go get ready for bed.”

Jesper nodded, because he knew Wylan was right, but as he began to untangle his fingers from the mess of ruddy curls, he felt the first and only pang of regret he’d felt that entire night. And, as he stepped away from Wylan, he grieved the warmth of being pressed so close to him. 

If Wylan missed it too, he didn’t show it.  In fact, he didn’t show much of anything considering that the moment Jesper had moved far enough to allow him space, he’d straightened his clothes, mumbled a goodnight, and disappeared from the room.  Several thundering heartbeats later, the bathroom door creaked closed and the shower cut on, breaking the silent, uncomfortable tension. 

Try as he might, Jesper couldn’t shake off the ghost of Wylan’s fingers digging into his skin.  As he made his way down the narrow hallway, past the bathroom door spilling small tendrils of steam from the crack at the bottom, he could still taste Wylan on his lips, hear his sighs like they were glorious melodies, feel the way he melted under Jesper’s fingers. 

The thoughts followed him as he closed his bedroom door, kicked off his shoes, tossed his clothes in a haphazardly placed pile near the closet, and fell face first onto his unmade bed. The thoughts stuck with him as he tossed and turned, and he was still awake when the shower turned off.  He heard the door open, heard the floorboards creak as Wylan stepped back out into the hallway, and then, his footsteps hesitated.  This lasted only a few seconds, though, before his footsteps retreated back towards the living room. 

In the dark, quiet safety of his room, Jesper found himself mulling over his assurance that they’d only share one kiss. And, as he finally began to feel sleep pulling him under, he wondered, how the hell am I going to keep a promise like that now?

Chapter Text

“Planning on disappearing again?” 

It irritated Inej that the cold, callous voice behind her was becoming increasingly familiar to her.  Less than a week ago, the sound of that gravelly tone had grated against her nerves.  Now, though she hated to admit it even to herself, it was a sound that had become a steady, constant presence in her life far too quickly for comfort. 

“I was considering it,” she answered coolly.  The whirlwind of chaos had left with the rest of Brekker crew minutes before, and now Inej sat on Kaz Brekker’s living room windowsill, her legs swinging softly in the night air.  Despite the fact that her back was to him, she could feel him keeping his distance, surveying her.  The soft click of a lighter and the sudden, cloying scent of tobacco told her he’d just lit yet another cigarette, and the wooden TV stand creaked quietly under his weight as he leaned on it. 

“I’d advise against it,” he muttered.  “That’s a long way down for someone with an injury like yours.” 

Inej rolled her eyes. “This isn’t the first injury I’ve earned in this city, and I’m certain it won’t be the last.” 

“I’m sure.  Still, I need you to stay put.” 

His words left Inej’s nerves on edge.  “Why?” 

“It’s like I told the others,” he explained, and Inej’s fingers curled around the windowsill so tightly that the metal dug into her skin.  “No one leaves this building until we can make a plan.” 

“So make a plan,” Inej snapped, gazing into the darkness beneath her swinging legs. He was right, of course.  She was too injured to be able to shake off a fall from this height, and the monstrous streets of Ketterdam waited for her below should she decide that walking was her only safe way out.  

Sitting here like this, Inej felt an unusual pang of nostalgia, and as her eyes slipped shut, her surroundings shifted.  The windowsill beneath her turned into a narrow platform, and instead of waiting out her doom, Inej was waiting for a trapeze swing to come her way.  

Jump! Her father’s voice encouraged inside her own head.  The darkness of the night was her safety net, though Inej had never really needed one of those anyway.  She could feel the breeze beneath her, lighting up the familiar excitement in her belly.  If only she could tip forward, if only she could throw her arms out and catch hold of the swing, if only-

“Tomorrow,” Brekker answered, shattering the illusion behind Inej’s eyes.  And, as she opened them, she watched the memory float away like dust in the wind.  Behind her, Kaz asked, “Couch or bedroom?” 

Jump , Inej’s mind screamed again, only this time it was not her father’s warm, encouraging tone, but her own instincts laced with icy fear. 

“I’m not staying,” she spat, leaning forward just a hair. If he moved behind her, she’d have time to leap.  

She expected him to argue or issue an order like he did with the rest of his crew whenever they failed to obey him.  She expected him to insist , to raise his voice, to feel a hand at her wrist that dragged her back into the apartment.  What she was not expecting, however, was the next question that filled the quiet apartment behind her. 

“Where will you go,” he asked, interrupting the downward spiral in her head, “when you are finally ready to be free of this city?” 

Inej’s brows wrinkled, but she kept her body perfectly still for a moment longer. “Does it matter?” 

Kaz tutted lightly, a mocking sound. “Did you forget our deal so quickly, Wraith?  A secret for a secret.” 

It wasn’t that she’d forgotten; it was that she’d assumed that Brekker had only suggested the deal to toy with her.  She’d assumed it was a game, a source of entertainment, a way for him to coax information out of her that she wouldn’t offer up otherwise.  However, when she finally twisted herself around to face Brekker, she found that there was not a single trace of amusement or mischief in his expression.  Instead, she found the quiet, expectant face of someone waiting to hear a sound in a forest.  There was no malice, no tease, no ulterior motive that she could pinpoint that would be of any value to Kaz Brekker.  

“For a while, I thought I was going to go home,” she answered quietly, feeling the honesty being pulled out of her almost against her will.  She wasn’t sure why she said it, but it continued to spill from her lips anyway. “I’m not sure if I’d be welcomed there, though.  Not after all I’ve done.” 

Brekker waited, watching her with those stormcloud eyes as if he were worried he’d miss something if he glanced away even for a moment.  When it became clear that Inej had nothing more to say, he simply nodded and took a drag from his cigarette, though his eyes never left hers.  As he exhaled, he said, “Go on, then.  Ask yours.” 

For a long moment, Inej considered him.  The dark, dangerous gleam in his eyes that had been present only a half hour before was gone, and now he just looked…tired.  And young.  His hair still fell in a mess around his face, leaving him uncharacteristically disheveled.  By all accounts, that word shouldn’t even be in the same sentence as Kaz Brekker’s name.  Kaz Brekker was neat, organized, calculated.  

The man in front of her now was none of those things.  This man bore aching wounds and looked almost as lost as Inej felt in this moment, though she could tell he was doing his damnedest to hide that fact from her.  She could ask about the venom in his voice that he’d spat at his crew only minutes before, or the sloppy stitches on his cheek that were now growing red and angry, or the poorly wrapped bandage on his forearm that she’d only caught a mere glimpse of before he’d tugged on a jacket.  She could ask about what had changed over the course of the night, or about why he looked at her now like she was a puzzle he was still lazily trying to solve.

Instead, though, Inej swung one of her legs back inside the apartment so that she could face him, and asked, “What will you do when you finally take down Per Haskell?” 

Brekker brought his cigarette to his lips again before tipping his head back in consideration.  The dim overhead light spilled across the contours of his face, bleeding over his cheekbones and disappearing into shadows beneath the sharp line of his jaw.  When his eyes slipped closed, it appeared as though he were dreaming, and it was the first time that Inej had seen anything near peace cross over the man’s dark features. 

“When I beat Haskell,” he began, his voice quiet as if it might not come true should the universe hear him wish for it.  “I will rule the streets of Ketterdam like a fucking king.” 

Inej wasn’t quite sure what she’d expected from him, but his response had her fighting the urge to scoff.  “Is there nothing else that matters to you beyond having power?” 

“Careful, Wraith,” he warned, lazily cracking one eye open to meet hers.  “If you want another truth, then I get one first.” 

Weighing the pros and cons was easy. There were far more negatives to letting Kaz Brekker dig further into her secrets than there were positives, and yet, Inej still found herself answering, “My family thinks I’m dead, and sometimes…sometimes I wonder if it’s better that way.” 

They were words that Inej hadn’t even admitted aloud to herself yet, and offering them to Brekker felt less like sharing a secret and more like handing a piece of herself over to him. As Inej lifted her gaze to meet Brekker’s eyes again, she felt as though the look she found there would eat right through her.  And, though Inej herself felt guilt clawing through her from simply saying the words out loud, he accepted her truth without question, without comment, without scorn. 

“It isn’t just power that I want,” he said next, speaking slowly as if he were still considering the words as they left his lips.  “It’s validation.  I want to prove to every single man and woman in this city that I am worth their attention, their fear…their respect.” 

“Your crew already gives you all of those things,” Inej stated, careful to avoid phrasing it as a question.  She’d given up two gutting truths tonight, and she wasn’t quite sure if she was ready to give him another one just yet.  

He clicked his tongue.  “My crew is different.” 

“Because it isn’t enough for them to give you what you need,” she supplied, one of her brows raising in question.  “You need an entire city to feed your delusions of grandeur?” 

“Something like that,” he answered mildly.  Then, he stubbed out the remainder of his cigarette, turned to the hallway, and muttered, “Follow me.” 

At first, Inej didn’t move. Instead, she listened to the sound of his footsteps and the click of his cane on the thin carpeted floor as he disappeared down the hall.  It didn’t take long for curiosity to win her over, though, and she slipped soundlessly into the apartment.  The window behind her remained open, just in case she needed to resort to a quick escape, and she kept one hand on the blade at her hip as she tiptoed down the narrow hallway to the open bedroom door.  

The same dull yellow light from a few nights ago was on again, and, as Inej stepped into the room, she felt the bone deep chill of the damp Ketterdam air seeping in from the wide open bedroom window.  Inej’s brows tipped towards one another.  She hadn’t come in that way tonight. 

Brekker stood at his desk a few feet away, though he didn’t bother looking up as Inej crept into the room.  Instead, he tugged a pistol from his waistband, checked the safety, and then carefully sat it on the dark surface of the desk.  Then, from a different holster at his waistband, he pulled a thin, sharp knife, and when his gaze finally rose, it landed on Inej without error.  

“I am keeping this with me,” he explained, flicking his attention to the knife in his hand for a moment before he tucked it away once more.  “I’m sure you can understand the need to remain armed at all times.” 

Despite the confusion Inej was feeling at the moment, Inej nodded.  

“My gun will stay here,” Brekker continued.  He nodded towards the window, “Should you feel the need to jump out of a window - which, again,  I would advise against - that one can stay open the entire night. The bedroom door only locks from the inside, and the only key is on this keychain.” 

With that, he dropped his keys onto the desk beside his gun.  Inej stared at them both with equal parts awe and suspicion. 

“It’ll be easier to move the dresser in front of the door if you take the drawers out first,” he pressed forward, oblivious to the confusion swirling in Inej’s mind.  “The sheets are clean, but there’s an extra blanket in the closet if you’d rather sleep on the floor or at the desk.” 

Inej tore her eyes away from said desk to find that Brekker had begun to move towards the exit.  He paused in the doorway, though, and turned to meet her perplexed look with a dark stare of his own.  

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, though her voice sounded so small in the silence.  

It felt like he was looking through to her soul as he replied, “I need you to stay, and if you need to feel safe in order to do that, then this is the best I can do.” 

For several breaths, Inej struggled to find the words.  To say she trusted him was gross overstatement, to say she felt comfortable spending the night in his bedroom was a lie, but…she couldn’t deny the fact that she did feel safer with all of his accommodations laid out in front of her.  She knew it was an offer made out of necessity, not kindness, and yet…it was offered anyway.  

She managed a small nod.  “Alright.  I’ll stay.” 

Inej thought she glimpsed a look of triumph on his face, but he turned away from her before she could inspect it further.  As he retreated, Inej went slowly to the door, but before she could close it completely, he paused mid-step, turned his head over his shoulder, and muttered, “Goodnight, Inej.” 

Her hands paused, the door still open enough that she could see him cast in shadows at the end of the hall, though she couldn’t make out his face from here.  God , it felt good to hear her name again, even if it came from the mouth of someone like him.  Some delusional part of her almost wished she could hear it again and again and again. 

“Goodnight, Kaz,” she replied, her voice so quiet it was almost silent.  She didn’t wait to see if he’d heard before she shut the door, and then she flipped the lock into place and got to work removing the drawers from his heavy dresser.  

Chapter Text

A year ago : 

The front door of the apartment swung open again just as Nina finished pouring herself another glass of wine. 

“That was quick,” she observed, grinning quietly to herself as she sat the bottle back down.  Her mood was positively soaring.  She was job-free for Kaz for the next few days, Matthias had been here since early this morning, and he’d just nearly told her that he loved her.  Cloud nine didn’t even begin to describe her escalated mood now. 

That is, until she turned and found Matthias standing just inside the doorway, his eyes empty and distant, and then Nina felt her mood begin to crack. 

“Matthias?” she asked, taking a step toward him.  At the sound of his name, those dead eyes shot up to her, then dropped away.  At his sides, his large hands curled into tight fists.  

Broken , Nina’s mind echoed .  He looks broken . 

“Hey,” she whispered lightly, moving across the room slowly.  She was worried she might startle him in this state, but he didn’t seem to notice her at all.  “What happened?  Are you hurt?  Did someone-” 

“Brum found me.” 

Nina hesitated.  She was only a foot away from him now, and her brows drew together as she tried to make the connection.  “Brum?  Like…like your commander from Fjerda?” 

It was a name she’d heard often enough.  He was woven into Matthias’s stories more than anyone else.  His name always fell from Matthias’s lips with some sense of reverence, respect, or adoration.  Now, though, his name left Matthias as if it suddenly tasted of acid.  

When he didn’t answer, Nina pressed, “What do you mean he found you?” 

“He’s downstairs,” Matthias breathed out, followed by a long, shaky inhale. 

Nina hesitated again.  In all her days spent with Matthias, she’d never seen anything like this from him.  It frightened her.  

“Do…do you want to invite him upstairs?” she asked, though she felt sure that wasn’t what either of them wanted. 

“No,” Matthias insisted, giving a sudden, vicious shake of his head.  His voice was turbulent as he continued, “No, we can’t.  He-he…he’ll-” 

“Shh,” Nina cooed softly, trying to ease the rising panic she heard in his voice.  One of her arms stretched out to cup his cheek.

“He came to take me home.” 

His words were so quiet that Nina tried convincing herself that it was all in her own head.  Her hand, still halfway to his face, faltered, then fell limply to her side. 

“What?” 

“I’m going home,” Matthias repeated, his eyes locked on the carpet beneath his feet.  “I just…need to grab my things.” 

It was then that Nina’s elated mood shattered completely, sending shards sharp enough to cut in every direction.  “But we were supposed to have four more months! You aren’t even finished with your lessons with the professor!” 

“He says…” Matthias’s voice caught, so he paused, sucked in a deep breath, and tried again.  “He says that this city is poisoning me.” 

Nina nearly laughed.  “Matthias, if anything, you’ve been thriving in this city!  You’ve been doing volunteer work and learning about how the world runs and-” 

“It’s not just the city that’s corrupted me,” Matthias cut in.  “He says…he says it’s you, too.” 

Nina’s defense died in her chest along with something else.  “ He says that?” 

She’d asked the question as an opportunity for Matthias to change his wording, a challenge for him to correct himself.  Even as the silence stretched, she hoped.  Hoped that he’d catch himself and realize what he’d said, hoped that he’d apologize and clarify exactly what it was he meant to say to the girl he’d just danced across the living room with,  hoped he’d change his mind. 

But he wouldn’t at her.  He wouldn’t fucking look at her, and she could see it in the clench of his jaw:  that creeping edge of barely hidden disgust and disbelief.  It was a look she’d only known in their first few meetings, and it was a look she’d hoped to never see again.  But hope, it seemed, was a futile thing.  

“Matthias,” she said, a shaky warning in her voice.  “Tell me that you don’t agree with him.”  When he didn’t immediately respond, Nina slammed one of her hands against his chest.  “ Tell me .” 

Matthias turned his head to the side, still avoiding her face, but Nina saw the glisten of tears in the corner of his eyes.  Still, he said nothing. 

“Matthias, I have done nothing to you, and yet-” 

“You’ve done plenty,” he interrupted, finally finding his voice again. 

“Have I?” 

“The first day I met you, you stole from me.  You’ve…you’ve lied.” 

“We all lie, Matthias.  It’s just that some of us have enough courage to admit it.” 

He ignored her, and Nina felt her hope slipping away.  “You’ve cheated your way out of things.  You’ve tricked me.” 

Nina’s throat felt too tight to breathe, but she pushed past the emotion with the full force of her anger.  “I tricked you?  Please, Matthias, do tell me how I’ve tricked you.” 

“Brum says-” 

“I’m not asking what Commander fucking Brum said,” Nina yelled, and Matthias tensed at the sound.  “I’m asking you , Matthias.  You can do that, can’t you?  Have your own thoughts?  Or, in the past five minutes, have you forgotten entirely what it’s like to be in control of your own mind?” 

Finally his eyes snapped to hers, but all of the warmth that had settled into that stare only an hour before had frozen over, and all that Nina was left with now was the sharp cut of ice staring her in the eye. 

“You tricked me into believing that this city - that you - were good.” 

“And it must have been trickery then, hm?” 

“What else would it have been?” 

“Is it so hard for you to just admit that you liked me, Matthias?”  Nina snapped, her throat burning over the past tense that had slipped between her lips.  

“Yes.” 

“Why?” Nina demanded, tears burning her eyes. 

“Because you are wrong!” he shouted, his voice finally matching hers.  “You are…you’re wrong .  This place is wrong, and it is not my home.  I need…I need to go home.” 

Nina stumbled backward as he shoved past her, heading for the narrow hall leading to the bedroom.  Thoughts curled in a chaotic, confusing pattern in her mind.  Ten minutes ago, he’d nearly let it slip that he loved her.  Now, she was nothing more than the witch who’d put a spell on him.  An ache settled in her chest, and it gave no indication that it would be letting up any time soon.  

Unwilling to give up as easily as Matthias clearly had, Nina turned and stomped after him.  

“What home is that?” she snapped, her voice loud enough to carry through the small apartment.  “The one where you’re training every single day to become someone you’re not?” 

“I don’t want to argue,” he replied, voice tight as Nina caught up with him.  He dug a duffle bag - topped in a thin layer of dust - from beneath the bed, shook it clean, and then began to collect his belongings scattered around the apartment. 

“Your plan was to come upstairs, insult me, and then leave as if nothing happened?  And you thought I was just going to…what?  Stand by the door and wave goodbye?” 

Mathias refused to answer her again, too occupied with collecting the toiletries he’d left on her bathroom counter. He brushed past her on his way back into the room and wordlessly dropped the items into the opened duffle.  Nina fumed, stewing in the swirl of rage inside her gut as she watched him collect the couple changes of clothes tucked tidily away in a dresser drawer.  

It was strange how he’d come to take up so much space in her life, and yet he could disappear within minutes.  

As he reached for the zipper, cold desperation took hold of Nina’s body.  Almost against her will, she raced forward and, just as it was being closed, grabbed the bag by the corner before tossing it violently off the bed.  

Over Matthias’s exasperated sigh, Nina shouted. “You don’t get to do this!  You don’t get to decide that you’re suddenly done and then walk out of my life like I was nothing to you!  Fuck you!” 

Matthias scowled. “Don’t talk like that.” 

Nina’s startled chuckle held zero amusement.  “No, Matthias, I will.  Fuck you.  Fuck you for thinking that you could just leave without any warning.  Fuck you for letting your daddy issues get in the way of everything we’ve been building, and fuck you for looking at me like that.” 

“Like what?” 

Nina’s voice was watery as she spat, “Like you don’t want to go but you can’t stand the sight of me anymore.”  

The rage and distaste in Matthias’s eyes softened, then, but Nina found no relief.  Slowly, Matthias rounded the corner of the bed, coming to stop directly in front of her.  He was hesitant as he lifted one of his large, calloused hands to her cheek, and Nina shivered as she leaned into the touch.  

“I don’t want to go,” he whispered, his sudden, quiet calm a sharp contrast to the ragged breaths leaving Nina.  “I don’t want to leave…I don’t want to lose you…but-” 

“Don’t say but, Matthias, please,” Nina begged, hating herself as a sob slipped out.  “Don’t finish that sentence.  Just stay.  Let the rest go unsaid.” 

Matthias smoothed a thumb across her cheek, capturing a stray tear and spreading the moisture across her face.  His own expression was a violent war with no winner, and Nina knew she could do nothing to pull him out of it. 

“But I can’t stand the sight of you anymore,” he breathed, his own voice shaking, and Nina felt the world collapse beneath her feet.  And yet, inexplicably, she was stuck here, staring through tears at the man who, only minutes before, loved her.  “I can’t look at you because you’ll make me want to stay, and I can’t do that.  I have to go home.  The life that Brum built for me is there.  I have no choice.” 

“You have a choice,” Nina insisted, grabbing a fistful of his shirt.  “I’m giving you a choice.  Stay here, with me.  Leave Fjerda and Brum and all of their stupid expectations behind, okay?  Just…just stay.”  

“I have to go,” he repeated, and Nina cried.  He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, and Nina leaned into him, soaking in every second that she could as she felt the end crashing down all around her.  She tried to memorize his scent, the way his shirt felt twisted up between her fingers, the way he shook beneath her hands.  

“If we’re both lucky,” he whispered, his lips moving to graze her hair, “then maybe I’ll never have to step foot into this hell-hole again.” 

Hot tears streamed down Nina’s face as she found that she couldn’t help but agree.  Seeing Matthias again would do nothing but destroy her, and right now, it felt like her heart couldn’t take much more.  

And then he slipped away from her, just like that.  His hand fell away from her cheek, his t-shirt was wrenched out of her grip.  Matthias picked up his duffle bag from the floor and kept his back to Nina as he retreated down the hall.  And, as Nina heard the front door of her apartment click shut behind him, she finally crumpled underneath the weight of her sobs. 

A timid but persistent knocking threatened to pull Nina back to consciousness, and she suddenly found herself clawing to stay in the memory-turned-dream just a bit longer.  If she could just hold on to him tighter, maybe she could change the outcome.  If she could just talk to him a bit longer, maybe she could convince him to stay.  If she went all the way back to the beginning again, maybe she could stop him from ever leaving the apartment at all that day.  

Another knock, louder and more insistent this time, forced Nina’s eyes open, and she watched with something akin to grief as the memory slowly faded away into thin air. An ache at another lost opportunity to fix this began in her chest and started to creep through her limbs. 

“Nina?” 

The familiar voice made Nina squeeze her eyes shut.  Reality brought the events of last night’s betrayal back into focus, and Nina found herself cursing Kaz Brekker’s name inside her own head.  She’d long known of his cruelties, but she’d been foolish enough to hope that she’d never find herself on the losing side of them.  

Inviting Matthias to Ketterdam without warning her was one thing, expecting her to drive him around town was another, but forcing him into her apartment when the only thing she needed right now was space from him was enough to break her heart all over again.  

When Nina failed to respond, Matthias cleared his throat and called out hesitantly, “Brekker wants us at his place in five minutes.” 

A quick glance at the clock made Nina groan aloud.  “Go without me.  I’ll be late.” 

There were several moments of unsure silence before Nina heard the sound of Matthias’s boots retreating down the hall.  When the sound of the front door swinging open and clicking shut behind him found her, Nina felt as if she were being catapulted back into her memory.  In an effort to avoid being sucked down that rabbit hole again, Nina flung off her blankets and swung her legs out of bed.  Her body ached in the way that it always did when she needed more sleep than she’d managed to get, but she knew exactly what would fix that. 

In the bathroom, she cranked the shower as hot as it could go and took her time undressing as steam filled the air.  When she finally stepped under the almost scalding water, she relished the way the heat loosened her tense muscles.  She took her time lathering rose scented shampoo in her hair and washing away the evidence of the previous day, and then she took the liberty of standing beneath the hot water for far longer than necessary as she let her conditioner set. 

By the time she finally stepped out of the shower to dry off, she was feeling much better due to both the effects of her pampering and the knowledge that every second she spent was a second that would piss off Kaz Brekker.  Though, truthfully, Nina was just enjoying a few minutes away from Matthias and the memories that clung to him like fog.  For a moment, it felt like she could breathe a little easier.  

After Kaz had condemned the two of them to their own personal hell last night, Nina and Matthias had been perfectly civil.  Matthias had dropped onto the couch without comment or complaint.  Nina had placed an extra pillow and blanket on the coffee table while he was in the bathroom.  They’d only spoken once as Nina had been heading down the hall toward her bedroom. 

“I didn’t want this either,” Matthias had said, and Nina hadn’t been sure if it was a simple statement or a complaint. 

“As long as we’re both suffering,” she’d answered, and then she’d disappeared into her bedroom before a reply could follow her.  

The problem with all of this civility was this:  Nina did not want to be civil.  What she wanted was to scream, to throw things until they shattered, to force everyone within a five mile radius to feel even a fraction of the ache she was feeling in her own chest. 

But what would be the point?  She’d never be able to change Matthias’s mind - that much had been clear to her a year ago.  So, she held her pain as if it were a tiny, fragile thing between her hands as she dressed and combed her hair.  She was nearly ready to head across the hall, but for good measure, she stopped by the kitchen on her way.  She popped a bagel into the toaster and, while it browned, poured herself a glass of iced coffee.  When that was done, she spread a thick layer of cream cheese onto her bagel, licked the tip of her finger clean, and finally decided that she’d wasted enough time to leave Kaz Brekker sufficiently annoyed. 

With a plate in one hand and a glass in the other, Nina finally made her way across the hall, trying desperately to ignore the sense of dread that settled over her like a shroud.  She could hear Jesper’s far-too-cheery-for-the-hour voice spilling from Kaz’s cracked front door, and as she nudged the door open with her foot, his voice tapered off.  

In unison, five heads turned towards her.  Jesper’s envious stare was glued to the drink in her hand.  Beside him, Wylan looked exhausted - so much so that he didn’t even seem to mind the fact that Jesper’s arm was tossed across the back of the couch behind him.  At the window, The Wraith once more perched as still as a statue with a stony expression to match.  Kaz, leaning against the wall near the window, glared at Nina with a barely curbed fury (much to Nina’s delight).  That left Matthias, who met her gaze with a dark, shuttered expression, though he turned away before she could study it further.  

“By all means, don’t stop on my account,” Nina finally muttered.  With her foot, she kicked the front door shut and then swept her way into the room.  

“We hadn’t started yet,” Kaz sneered.  

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you to wait for me,” Nina answered, sinking down on the empty cushion at Wylan’s other side.  She’d barely gotten comfortable before Jesper’s hand shot out across Wylan’s body, and Nina reluctantly slipped her coffee into his waiting palm. 

“Didn’t have much of a choice,” Kaz grumbled, and Nina held his gaze as she took a bite of her breakfast.  With an exaggerated roll of his eyes - something she was fairly confident she’d taught him herself - Kaz pushed off from the wall and took a few slow steps toward the center of the room.  He left his cane balanced against the television stand and then turned to face the rest of them as if they were an audience.

“First things first,” he mumbled, his voice low and quiet.  His clever lockpick hands got to work rolling up the sleeve covering his left arm, and Nina’s brow furrowed as a shoddily wrapped bandage came into view.  Splotches of red, pink, and yellow stained the thin fabric, and Nina’s hand slowly lowered the food away from her mouth.  

“I thought you said you were fine after the shootout,” she accused, her brows drawing together.  

Kaz shook his head once as he began to unravel the bandage.  “Not from the shootout.” 

And, as the bandage finally fell away and floated to the floor, the entire room held its breath.  Where Kaz’s crow and cup tattoo had sat yesterday, there was now a mess of color and chaos.  Dark, nearly black, rings circled grotesque yellow blisters and spilling red wounds.  Every inch of ink was gone, burned away and covered over in wounds trying to learn how to heal.  

Jesper sat forward, his face a shade paler than normal. “I thought your removal was temporary .” 

Nina dropped her plate onto the table, suddenly finding her appetite gone.  “Your what ?” 

When Kaz met her eyes, Nina nearly shied away from the intensity of the emotion that lingered in his black gaze.  “My removal from The Dregs.”

Nina’s stomach churned uncomfortably, and in an effort to put her conflicted feelings into action somehow, she turned an accusatory glare at Jesper and asked, “You knew about this?” 

“Not this ,” Jesper defended, gesturing at Kaz.  “I mean, I heard he was kicked from the gang last night, but I thought Haskell was just being a grumpy old man! I didn’t think it was going to be permanent!” 

“And you didn’t say anything to me?” 

Jesper’s jaw hardened. “You know it wasn’t my place.” 

“Enough,” Kaz interrupted before Nina could respond, his voice sharp.  The command was enough to drag both Jesper and Nina’s attention back to him, and their eyes landed on the hideous stretch of marred skin without fail.  Kaz felt the weight of their stares and unrolled his sleeve once more, letting the fabric fall loosely over his arm.  Nina was certain they all saw the way his jaw tensed, but none of them dared speak on it.  Finally, Kaz broke the tense silence again when he asked, “Jesper, what else did you find last night?” 

Jesper’s eyes were still locked on Kaz’s arm despite the fact that the injury was out of sight, but he managed to answer, “Haskell has already found a replacement for you.” 

Kaz nodded. “Erik.” 

“Erik?” Matthias asked, his voice unsure as he spoke for the first time.  Nine tried not to look, but her eyes shot towards him anyway.  He looked ragged, like he hadn’t slept for a single second last night.  

“You know him?” Kaz asked. 

“Brum had a guy who worked closely with him at the academy - Erik Striesmund.  A few months ago, we were all told that he moved to a new military base, and none of us have heard anything from him since.” 

“There was a Fjerdan passport in Erik’s dresser,” Wylan offered helpfully. 

“And a letter with the same red flower seal that we saw on the letters in Haskell’s office,” Jesper added. 

Kaz nodded slowly, his gaze locked on the coffee table as he lost himself in his thoughts.  “How close was Erik to Brum?” 

Matthias shrugged. “Not any closer than any of the other soldiers, but…” 

Kaz’s eyes flashed up to Matthias. “But?” 

“Brum sent him on errands often.”  Matthias shifted uncomfortably in his seat, as if merely sharing this half-secret made him physically itch.  “Brum trusted him.” 

“Good,” Kaz said simply.  “I need to talk to him.” 

“At The Slat?” Wylan guessed, but Jesper quickly shook his head.  

“Too risky.  Everyone there knows Kaz’s face, and there’s no easy way to access Erik’s new room in the attic without having to pass through the rest of the building and risk being seen.” 

“Not to mention the fact that I’m prohibited from entering any Dregs establishment,” Kaz added, and Nina found this thought hard to wrap her mind around.  Kaz Brekker was nearly synonymous with The Dregs.  He’d built most of the Dregs' businesses from the ground up, and now he couldn’t step foot in a single one?  

“We could bring Erik to you,” Jesper offered, and then it was Kaz’s turn to shake his head.  

“Erik isn’t going to be easy to tear away from The Dregs.  I’d be willing to bet he’s constantly surrounded by at least two or three other members, and trying to take them on will encourage Haskell to retaliate.” 

“The fundraiser?” Nina offered as the thought popped into her mind. “It’ll be held at the convention center downtown tomorrow night.  It won’t be official Dregs territory, and it should provide enough of a distraction to be able to pull Erik away without garnering too much attention.” 

“Haskell is still going to be pissed if he sees me walk through the front door.”

For the first time, The Wraith spoke, startling Nina.  “The convention center has weak access points on the second and third floors.” 

Jesper turned an incredulous look at the ghost in the window.  “And you know this because…?” 

“Because I collect secrets,” she deadpanned, and the look she cut Jesper was nearly as deadly as one of Kaz’s glares.  “Sometimes that requires me to find a way into places where I’m not supposed to be.” 

Silence answered her for a moment until Nina finally nodded.  “So, The Wraith can sneak you inside.  How do we get Erik to you?” 

“Your presence at the fundraiser will be expected, as will Jesper’s.  The two of you wouldn’t cause any concern for The Dregs, so the two of you will have to find a way to convince Erik his presence is needed upstairs and make it believable.” 

“Sure,” Nina shrugged, “not vague at all.” 

Kaz ignored her.  “Wylan, how good are your acting skills?” 

Wylan’s gulp was audible.  “Um…passable, I guess?” 

“Find a little more confidence in that answer by tomorrow,” Kaz instructed. “You’re going to attend the fundraiser as a guest, and everyone in that room needs to believe that you’re nothing more than a rich kid ready to spend your father’s money.” 

Wylan blanched.  “W-why?” 

“Because I need someone to keep their eyes and ears open during the night, and Jesper and Nina will have their own task to worry about.  Can you manage that?” 

Wylan’s uncertainty was overwhelming, but he nodded anyway.  

“Good.  Matthias will accompany you as a bodyguard,” Kaz paused, flicking a look in Matthias’s direction.  The Fjerdan nodded as well, only seeming a bit more comfortable than Wylan.

Kaz turned his sights on Nina.  “They’ll need something appropriate to wear.” 

“I can work something out with the dry cleaner down the street again,” Nina answered with a shrug.  Kaz offered her a nod that was just barely approval.  

“Good.  Inej will scope out the best entrances and quick exits in the convention center, and-” 

“I’m sorry,” Jesper butted in, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.  “...Inej?” 

Kaz’s face betrayed no emotion, but something beneath the darkness in his eyes flickered. “I said The Wraith.” 

“No, no you didn’t,” Jesper responded with a grin.  He turned to the woman already half dangling out the window.  “Is your name Inej?” 

Instead of answering his question, The Wraith swung her other leg out into the Ketterdam air and muttered, “I’ll have a map of the convention center ready by tonight.” 

And then she dropped from sight.  Nina found herself cringing in anticipation, but she never heard the splat of The Wraith’s body hitting the ground below.  Jesper, however, was unbothered, and he turned his full attention back to Kaz. 

“On a first name basis with a Barrel legend, are you now?” 

If looks could kill, Nina would be planning a funeral right now.  Since they couldn’t, though, she had to settle for simply watching Kaz’s glare bounce uselessly off of Jesper’s grinning face.  

In an attempt to save face, Kaz continued as if Jesper had never spoken.  “Jesper, you’re going to coach Wylan on what to say at the fundraiser tomorrow night.  Take Matthias with you, too.  Someone needs to make sure they won’t make idiots of themselves.” 

“Sure thing, boss,” Jesper accepted cheerfully, but he still looked entirely too pleased with himself.  Nina herself was pleased too, though her eagerness stemmed from the fact that Jesper would be stuck with Matthias for a while, meaning she could have a few hours to breathe easily.  

“Good, now all of you get out,” Kaz snapped, turning to retrieve his cane from where he’d left it.  Matthias was the first one out of the door, and for that, Nina was grateful.  Wylan followed after him, seemingly as eager to leave Kaz’s presence as Nina was to leave Matthias’s.  While Nina gathered her plate and the nearly empty glass of coffee Jesper had left on the table, Jesper held the door open for her and waited.  

As she passed by him on her way out, Jesper bumped her shoulder with his, and purred conspiratorially, “ Oh, Inej .” 

Nina snickered as the two stepped out into the hall, and as the door swung shut behind them, she just barely caught the sound of Kaz’s exasperated sigh.  

Chapter Text

“Your name, sir?”

Wylan straightened the cuffs on his suit jacket nonchalantly.  “Harris Federline.”

It was the easiest lie he’d told recently, and it fell from his lips without falter.  Jesper had spent the better part of twenty-four hours preparing Wylan to take on the stolen identity and perfecting his ‘rich-boy’ persona.  Wylan had been an eager and willing student, especially after Matthias had left and Jesper rewarded every believable lie from Wylan’s lips with a smirk or suggestive compliment.

Neither of them had brought up the kiss they’d shared – which Wylan thought was probably for the best, even if he found his eyes dropping to Jesper’s lips every time they spoke.  Some small part of him kept hoping that Jesper had been lying when he’d said ‘just one kiss’, but Jesper had been uncharacteristically tame since then.  He kept his hands to himself, didn’t let his gaze linger on Wylan for more than a few seconds, limited his flirting to nothing more than he’d offer up in a conversation with Nina or Kaz. 

Wylan wanted desperately not to notice, not to care, but his mind kept snagging on the apathy.  Was just one kiss really enough to satiate Jesper’s curiosity?  Had the kiss been bad?  It hadn’t seemed bad to Wylan, but maybe his viewpoint on the matter was a bit biased. Though, the longer he considered that option, the surer he became that it wasn’t true.  He’d seen the glazed over look in Jesper’s eyes, heard his steady breath suddenly falter in surprise, felt the needy grip of his hands.

It had not been a bad kiss, but that knowledge only brought more questions.  Questions that were, thankfully, obscured by the urgency of his first official mission as a Dregs recruit.  He’d been nervous at first, of course, but whatever fears or concerns that Wylan might have had about tonight’s event had been blown off by Kaz’s proclamation of ‘I’ll take care of it.  You do your job, and I’ll do mine.’

So, standing out front of the convention center doors, Wylan fiddled with the borrowed keys in his pocket out of boredom as he waited for the woman by the door to consult her clipboard.  She ran her pen down the length of the paper, scribbled a checkmark in the margin about halfway down, and then lifted her face with a wide smile. 

“Welcome, Mr. Federline.  Enjoy your evening.”

Wylan tipped his head in her direction as a sign of his appreciation, and then the door to her left swung open.  A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed Matthias’s presence behind him, and Wylan headed inside the convention center with the brooding Fjerdan on his heels. 

For a moment, the instinct to stop and stare in awe at the sight before him gripped Wylan by the throat, but he shoved past it.  The people who belonged here wouldn’t feel the need to pause and take in the glittering chandeliers or the rich red carpeting or the dozens of exquisite gowns and suits worn by men and women who seemed to float rather than walk.  Wealth was everywhere, which made it easier to spot the Dregs members stationed around the oversized room.  Even washed up and dressed to the nines, their forms were too rigid, too worrisome, to be confused with the rich individuals mingling mindlessly around them.

Across the expansive convention center floor, Wylan caught sight of a Dregs member leaning lazily against a busy bar counter, eyes scouring the crowd and ignoring the still full drink in his hand.

Look for the Dregs near the bar, Jesper had coached last night, his hand tauntingly close to Wylan’s on the back of the couch.  They wait for the rich guys to get tipsy, strike up a conversation, and then encourage said rich guys to invest a hefty stack of cash on a Dreg establishment of their choosing.

Wylan steered himself and Matthias in that direction, but he kept his pace at a calm stroll, tucking one of his hands in his pockets. 

“You lie too easily.”

It was the first thing that Matthias had said since they’d left the apartment, and it nearly startled Wylan.  The words themselves were true, but Wylan shrugged and put on a face of indifference.

“That’s the job tonight, isn’t it?” he asked, though his voice came out a hair harsher than he’d intended.  He swallowed heavily before adding, “Everyone in this room needs to believe that I am nothing more than a rich kid with more money than he has sense.  How hard can it be to play that role?”

Matthias surveyed him slowly, as if seeing Wylan for the first time.  “You play it like you were born for it.”

For a moment, Wylan’s footsteps faltered, but he found his rhythm again quickly as he continued to push through the growing crowd.  “Maybe I should have pursued a career in acting then.”

A hand at his wrist stopped him, and Wylan ground his teeth together as Matthias moved in front of him. 

“Why are you here?” Matthias asked, narrowed eyes searching for Wylan’s secrets like they floated in the air around him. 

Wylan was suddenly extremely thankful for his ability to hide under a mask of his own making as he steeled his expression and stated, “To work a job for Kaz.”

Matthias was unimpressed. “I mean why are you working a job from Kaz?  It is clear to everyone that you don’t belong with them.”

“Why is that?” Wylan questioned, a brow ticking upwards, a mimic of the challenging expression he’d seen on Kaz’s face a few times before.

“The Dregs are…” Matthias paused, looking for the right words.  He must have found them, but he looked pained as he continued, “bad.  You are not.”

You lie too easily. 

“We have a job to do,” Wylan stated, ignoring Matthias’s comment and moving around him.  “We can discuss my poor decisions later.”

The man that Wylan had spotted previously was still at the bar, but he’d moved down a few feet and was in the middle of a conversation with a gentleman who looked like he was already halfway to his grave.  Wylan kept his gaze casual as he strolled across the remaining stretch of the room and leaned into the narrow space on the Dreg's other side.

The bar was busy, and it took a few minutes before Wylan was able to order himself a drink.  He would have asked if Matthias wanted anything, but he could feel the Fjerdan’s disapproval radiating off of his statuesque form already. 

Beside him, the Dreg was pressing his angle with the elderly gentleman, though from what Wylan could hear, it wasn’t a promising conversation. The second that the drink was dropped off in front of Wylan’s face, he gulped it down.  It took some effort to hide the grimace of distaste on his face as the liquid burned the inside of his mouth and all the way down into his chest.  The scent of expensive whiskey brought back flashes of his childhood, visions of his father’s hand, and Wylan let the glass fall back to the counter with force. 

The glass connected with a sharp clatter, and the Dreg to his right twisted his head over his shoulder as the sudden sound.

That was easy enough, Wylan said to himself.  Out loud, he said, “Ah, sorry about that.”

“Rough night already?” The Dreg asked, eyeing the now empty glass.  Wylan considered it as well as he thought of his response.

“You could say that,” he finally answered with a shrug. He gestured behind himself. “It’s my first time at one of…these events. It’s only been a few months since I inherited my father’s accounts, and now I’m wishing I’d accepted some of his offers to attend parties with him.”

“They aren’t that bad,” the Dreg spoke lazily, turning to Wylan in favor of the drunken old man on his other side.  Wylan nearly sighed in relief. “All you need to do is smile, make small talk, and donate a truly obscene amount of money before you decide to call it quits for the night.”

“Eerily similar advice to what my father left me,” Wylan nodded.  “Though, he was more of the philanthropist than I am.  He liked to play it safe, you know?  I, on the other hand, am more interested in something a bit more…profitable.”

The Dreg considered Wylan for a long moment, and as his eyes scanned over Wylan’s styled hair and expensive suit, Wylan felt his pulse thudding beneath his chest like his heart was ready to make its escape. 

“I’m Donovan,” the Dreg finally replied, offering a hand in Wylan’s direction.  “You are?”

“Harris,” Wylan lied, returning the handshake firmly. “Federline.”

“Harris,” the man repeated as he lowered his hand.  “I think I might know some people who can help you with finding some more…profitable investments.”

Wylan raised an incredulous brow, though on the inside he was relieved that his ploy had worked.  “Really?  Like…tonight?”

“I don’t see why not.  We’re all already here, and when an opportunity like this arises, you don’t want to miss it.”  Donovan paused to finish his drink, and then he shoved away from the counter.  “Follow me.  I’ll introduce you to my friends.”

Wylan met Matthias’s eyes as he moved to follow the Dreg, and he ground his teeth against the lingering judgement he found in the Fjerdan’s gaze. Together, the two wound their way through the path Donovan created for them in the crowd, and Wylan found himself scanning the room for a familiar tall, lanky form.  Jesper and Nina had left the apartments earlier than he and Matthias, and while Wylan had promised he’d maintain his low profile and ignore Jesper if they crossed paths, a small part of him just wished to see the Zemeni man for a bit of comfort. It was truly ridiculous how much comfort a near stranger could bring, but that was a fact that Wylan didn’t have the time to unpack until later.

A wide, carpeted staircase led them to the next level, and just as they’d reached the top, a woman came sprinting past in a blur of blue and green. Her haste nearly took Wylan off his feet, but Matthias was close enough to steady him with one hand.  Both their heads turned in unison, almost instinctively, to trail after the blonde woman draped in multi-colored silks and peacock feathers as she descended the stairs in a hurry. 

“Are you alright?” Donovan asked, and Wylan nodded, shifted his mask back into place, and continued after Donovan.  However, Wylan didn’t make it far before he noticed the lack of a brooding presence behind him. A quick glance over his should confirmed that he was right, Matthias was not with him.  Instead, he lingered near the top of the stairs, his hands in a vice grip on the wooden railing as he glared down into the ballroom floor below. 

Wylan turned back to Donovan and offered an apologetic smile.  “One moment, please.”

“Of course,” Donovan replied, though he looked over Wylan’s shoulder with a look of vague irritation.  Wylan dipped his head in appreciation and turned back to Matthias.

As he approached the Fjerdan, he hissed, “What are you doing?”

“He’s here,” Matthias breathed, his voice quieter than Wylan had ever heard it.  Wylan’s brows tugged together. 

“Who?  Who’s here?”

When Matthias failed to answer, Wylan turned his questioning gaze to the ballroom floor below them.  His blood ran cold in an instant as he locked eyes on the same man he’d seen in the photo The Wraith had taken in Haskell’s home.  Long, straight blonde locks fell down his back over his impeccable black suit, and the growing crowd around him was a testament to his popularity amongst the people in the room.

“Is that-”

“Commander Brum,” Matthias spat the name out like it would choke him if he’d held onto it a moment longer. 

Wylan’s throat went dry as uncertain panic set in.  “Should…should we find Jesper and tell him?”

Matthias gave a vicious shake of his head, and before Wylan could say anything else, Matthias turned and bolted down the stairs.  For a moment, Wylan faltered, watching as Matthias grew farther and farther away from him. A quiet curse slipped between his lips as he glanced back over his shoulder and found Donovan still waiting for him, though his previous irritation had turned into curiosity.

“I have to go,” Wylan explained, already heading for the stairs. “Another time!”

Before Donovan could come up with a response, Wylan was off.  He kept his eyes on the top of Matthias’s head, trailing the Fjerdan as he rushed onto the ballroom floor.  A shoulder bumped into Wylan as he hurried after his newfound friend, and then an elbow clipped him, and then body knocked him forcibly to the side.  Wylan’s hand caught the railing just in time to steady himself as the small group of men – clearly in as big a rush as Wylan – sped past him. With his feet back underneath himself, Wylan turned his attention to the ballroom floor once more, though his heart sank in his chest as he searched for a familiar blonde head that was nowhere to be found.

Concern seeped through Wylan’s veins along with a particular sense of dread, and suddenly, he felt very alone.  The ballroom stretched and swelled in front of him, growing bigger each second that Wylan went without being able to spot Matthias in the crowd.

Jesper will know what to do, Wylan thought, setting off through the crowd in search of the Zemeni man.  His neck craned this way and that as his eyes scanned every face on every side of him until, finally, a gentle hand found his elbow.

Relived, Wylan spun around. “Jes-”

“Harris,” Nina cooed, her eyes blazing with a warning that was at war with the softness of her other features. “I was hoping I’d be able to catch up with you tonight!”

“Right,” Wylan muttered, his gaze flashing away from her nervously.  In response, Nina pulled in him for a warm hug.

There, with her lips nearly pressed against the shell of his ear, she hissed, “Why did I just see Matthias storming out of the front doors all by his lonesome?”

“He saw-” Wylan paused and cast his gaze around them, searching for the tall, militaristic form he’d noted before.  When he found nothing, Wylan whispered, “Commander Brum is here.”

Nina’s hand tightened on Wylan’s coat.  “What? Where?”

“I don’t know,” Wylan answered honestly.  Nina leaned back from the hug, but she kept her hands on the tops of Wylan’s arms as he continued to speak lowly. “He was here just a minute ago, but I lost him in the crowd.”

“Lovely,” Nina sighed. 

Wylan couldn’t help but glance around once more. “Should we tell Jesper?”

“Jesper was on his way upstairs with Erik a few minutes ago,” Nina said, shaking her head.  “Right now, we just keep playing our parts and wait. He’ll find us when Kaz is finished.”

“Okay,” Wylan nodded, and only a little of his disappointment managed to seep into his voice. Nina slid her hands down his arms, squeezed his hands, and just as she was about to let go, a quiet, distant rumble sounded.  It was so quiet one might just imagine they’d heard it, but a second later the floor beneath their feet vibrated as well.  Nina’s hands tightened in Wylan’s once more as she, like many of the other guests, began to look around in wonder and confusion. 

“What was that?” she asked as the vibrations slowly ceased.

“A distraction,” Wylan answered around a lump of guilt that was forming in his throat. “Cover your head.”

Nina’s brows drew together. “Why would I-”

And then the wall at her back exploded inward.

Chapter Text

They were late.  It had taken longer than either Inej or Kaz had anticipated to find and incapacitate the real Harris Federline so he wouldn’t interfere with their plans, and without Nina’s car, the walk back to the convention center had been a lengthy one. 

Once they’d made it back, though, Inej had made quick work of her task.  She scaled the wall to the third story window they’d picked as their access point.  Inside, she’d found the rope she’d stashed there last night.  She secured one end to a heavy metal shelf, and sent the rest of the rope tumbling from the window.  

And then she’d waited as patiently as she could manage, perched on the window sill with the thick black rope rubbing periodically against her leg as Kaz climbed after her, his cane abandoned on the ground below as he moved strangely in fits and starts. From her vantage point, she could see the tightness in the way he held his jaw, and she wondered for a moment if he was in pain.  He wouldn’t admit it if he was, though, and she wasn’t one to ask.  Her own leg still throbbed here and there with the ghost of her own injury, and she did all that she could to tuck that hurt away where no one could see.  

When Kaz finally neared the top of the rope, Inej abandoned her perch at the window and crossed the room, finding a particularly tall stack of boxes to lean against while she gave him the necessary space to drag himself through the narrow window.  It was a tight fit for his shoulders, but he made it nonetheless.  Finally inside, he sat back against the windowsill much like Inej had done, dragging in long, measured breaths. 

He’d been pacing himself, Inej realized, bracing against whatever pain must have been plaguing him.  She couldn’t stop her eyes from raking over him, searching for signs of what hurt, where pressure should be applied, how to ease whatever ache there was.  

She shook her head roughly before those thoughts could follow her any further.  As a distraction, mostly to herself, she stated, “This location is ideal for stealth, but if we need a quick getaway tonight, a rope isn’t going to make it easy.” 

“We’ll be fine,” Kaz promised like he meant it.  “Wylan’s distractions will work if we need them.” 

Inej sure hoped they would.  She’d spent a good two hours alone in the dark last night, squeezing herself into tiny air conditioning vents to drop Wylan’s delicate creations in all of the locations Kaz had marked on her makeshift map. She’d never worked with explosives before, and she’d felt relieved when she’d finally rid herself of the last one and scrambled free from the vents.  

A nearly comfortable silence stretched between them as they sat and waited.  The plan, as far as Inej had heard it from Kaz, was for the two of them to wait here in the third floor storage closet until either Jesper or Nina found Erik and managed to coerce him upstairs.  Kaz had hand-picked this location for the sole fact that it had a rear facing window and it was far enough away from the party that no one would hear if Erik chose to be difficult.  

Across from Inej, Kaz remained seated on the windowsill, though he’d taken to using the heel of his palm to rub absentmindedly at his leg, and a moment of curiosity struck Inej.  For some reason, it was hard for her to remember that he was no longer a total stranger to her, and that she’d never once asked about the cane or the reason behind it.  Truthfully, she’d imagined that it was some sort of ploy, a trick, a way to encourage others to let their guard down.  

Now, though, with her curiosity clawing at the back of her mind incessantly, she found herself asking.  “What happened?” 

Kaz stilled, lifting his eyes to find hers.  They were dark and full of dangerous things, and yet he still indulged her. “With what, Wraith?” 

“Your leg,” she specified, though she swallowed around a tiny lump of embarrassment.  She knew it was none of her business, and that this might be pushing the boundary of their little game, but she found herself needing to ask anyway. 

“I was a bit of a daredevil when I was younger,” he explained, finally drawing himself onto his feet.  He rolled his shoulders, and Inej heard a quiet crack as he did.  “Took a nasty spill off a roof, and I thought I knew more than the doctors and it would eventually heal on its own.” 

“You were wrong?” Inej guessed.  

“I was wrong,” he admitted. 

A tiny part of Inej rejoiced at the fact that Kaz Brekker had just admitted a mistake, but that joy was short lived when she felt the weight of his gaze on her, waiting for his turn in their little game.  

Inej took a deep breath, steadying herself for whatever was to come, and said, “Go on.” 

“Did you sleep on the floor or in the bed?” 

Inej wasn’t sure exactly what she’d been expecting him to ask, but it surely wasn’t this.  She’d been stuck in his apartment the past two nights, though it wasn’t entirely at her own will.  However, Inej had quickly learned that Kaz was an immovable force when he set his mind to something, and he stood firm that no one was to leave the apartment building or his sight until he found where the information leak was coming from.  At least Inej was not the only one who seemed to be suffering.  Nina and Matthias had both shared their displeasure with Kaz’s decision loudly and aggressively, but Kaz did not back down.  

Both nights, though, Kaz had left her in his bedroom with the window open, his gun and keychain on the desk, and a quiet goodnight on his lips.  And, both nights, Inej had taken his advice and moved the dresser in front of the already locked door, stretched herself out atop the dark sheets, and fallen asleep with the keychain gripped so tightly in her hand that she woke up with the teeth imprinted on her skin. 

“The bed,” she answered honestly. Some small part of her worried he might be upset by that answer, that he’d think she’d taken something of his.  Instead, his face held neutral as she continued, “I don’t have one of those in my own apartment, so I figured I’d enjoy the luxury while I can.” 

The skin around his eyes grew pinched, like he had more to say or ask but he knew that doing so meant opening himself up to her again as well.  He must have decided against it because when he spoke next, he did so while glancing at his watch. 

“It’s taking too long.” 

Inej pushed off from the boxes, taking the hint as easily as he’d given it.  “I’ll go see what I can find out.” 

Despite the fact that they were far from the party, Inej still moved carefully.  She peeled the door open just a crack, only far enough for her to peek down the length of the hallway.  Finding it clear, she slipped out into the hall, pulling the door shut behind her silently. 

No amount of caution could have saved Inej, though, because she’d only made it three steps down the hall, her shoulder pressed to the wall, when a horrifyingly familiar form turned the corner at the other end in a flourish of blues and greens. 

Fear turned to ice in Inej’s veins, locking her body in place.  The visage of Heleen van Houden, the source of Inej’s greatest nightmares and darkest memories, strode down the carpeted hallway, her head down with a cell-phone pressed firmly against her ear. 

Run , Inej’s brain screamed.  Heleen hadn’t seen her yet.  She had time. Run back to the window.  Jump, jump, jump. 

And yet her body refused, her limbs still frozen in place as she stared straight ahead, her eyes wide and her fingertips trembling at her sides. She fought within herself, screamed at her limbs to move, pushed and pulled with all her might, but it was to no avail.  She was still standing there dumbly when Heleen finally lifted her head. 

The moment her eyes found Inej, her expression darkened thunderously.  She didn’t bother concluding her phone call before a thin, pointed fingernail snapped against the screen to end the call and she stuffed the phone into a sparkling bag hanging off her shoulder. 

She was exactly as Inej remembered her.  Her blonde hair was secured in diamond studded pins away from her face while long, expertly coiled curls fell down her back in waves. The wrinkles around her eyes were covered in layers of makeup, and that dark hazel stare was cold enough to freeze even Inej’s bones.  It was a gaze that she remembered well, too well, and she wished she could move so that she could cower away from it. 

“You!” Heleen shouted, her mouth forming a hideous pursed O . “Where the hell have you been?” 

Inej found that not only were her limbs frozen in place, but her mouth was full of rocks and her lips sewn shut around them.  No matter the words that perched at the tip of her tongue, she couldn’t force them out. They were trapped inside Inej in the same way she was trapped inside her own traitorous body.  

“Did you forget how to speak?” Heleen snapped, her volume growing as she stomped toward Inej.  Run, run, run .  “Do you have any idea the amount of problems you’ve caused for me?  For the girls?  They’ve been working nearly double their usual clients just to make up for what I lost when you ran away!” 

Inej felt sick at the thought, and yet still she was stuck. She felt like a child again, unable to react to all of the violence and rage that she found herself suddenly dropped in.  She felt the same shock now, though she supposed she shouldn’t.  Tonight was the grand fundraiser thrown by one of Ketterdam’s powerhouses.  Of course Heleen would stick herself to that potential for recognition like glue.  The fact that Inej hadn’t predicted her presence was a failure on her own part.

Inej wondered if the other girls were downstairs, if they were working, if they hated Inej for what she’d done to them in order to save herself.  She wondered if they’d ever forgive her, or if she’d ever forgive herself. 

“You have a lot of lost time to make up for,” Heleen insisted, growing closer still.  “You won’t get a break for weeks once we’re back at The Menagerie, do you understand?” 

Heleen had reached her then, and a cold, claw-like hand shot out to grasp Inej’s wrist.  Apparently, that icy touch was all that it took to shatter the spell holding Inej’s body and tongue in place.  That heavy, frozen horror had turned to the feral fear of a cornered animal in a mere second. 

“Let me go!” Inej shouted, fighting to free her wrist from Heleen’s hold.  Heleen, however, only tightened her grip, squeezing and twisting in the opposite direction until Inej grit her teeth and cried out against the pain.  Above it, though, she managed, “I will not go back there.” 

“Need I remind you that you belong to me ,” Heleen sneered, tugging sharply so that Inej stumbled forward and almost fell into her.  Heleen’s free hand found purchase in a fistful of Inej’s hair, and she pulled hard enough that Inej’s eyes watered as Heleen forced her head back so their eyes could meet. “Your debt to me is nowhere near paid, little lynx. I will have my money.” 

Scalp throbbing and wrist screaming in protest, Inej fought.  Her free arm shot out, catching Heleen just below her ribs.  Heleen answered by twisting both hands so viciously that Inej’s sight whited out.  In a voice so weak that it barely sounded like her, Inej begged, “Stop, please .” 

The last word was a plea, though it was not for Heleen.  It was for whoever - whatever - was listening that could take her away from this place.  

“I haven’t even started ,” Heleen answered, a vicious smile cutting across her skin.  “If you think-” 

Her threat was cut off by the sound of a door swinging open behind Inej, and both women froze with the realization that they had an unexpected audience. Inej’s free hand, which had been in the process of freeing a blade from one of her many leather holsters, had gone still in midair.  

“Brekker,” Heleen acknowledged, like they were some old acquaintances happy to be reunited. She straightened herself to look more presentable, but her hands remained steel grips on Inej.  

Kaz didn’t speak as he stepped up beside Inej.  He didn’t look at her, but he didn’t have to.  Inej could feel the creeping heat of shame stewing inside of her, seeping into each limb.  How much had he heard? How many of her secrets had been spilled out to him against her own will, their game of truths violated through no faults of their own?  

“I’m sorry if we disturbed you,” Heleen pressed forward, her voice suddenly soft and sincere.  “I came upstairs to take a phone call and…unexpectedly found some old business lurking around. I figured I should take care of it before it got away from me again.  You understand.” 

Inej was sure he did.  She wondered how pathetic she looked in Heleen’s grasp, her fingers shaking involuntarily. He knew now that her fierceness was a farce, an act, a play put on by a girl who just needed people to stay away long enough for her to claw her way out of this city. 

“Let her go.” 

Kaz spoke in his low, gravelly tone that rolled lazily off his tongue.  Both Heleen and Inej shot their eyes toward him, but he kept his bored gaze locked solely on Heleen’s affronted expression.  

“What?” Heleen asked, letting out a quiet scoff.  

“Do I need to word it differently for you to understand?” Kaz asked, lifting a dark brow inquisitively.  “Take your hands off of her.” 

“This is none of your business,” Heleen snapped, her hands tightening.  In her effort to keep from crying out, Inej bit her lip so hard she tasted the hot spill of iron, a fact that Heleen was oblivious to as she continued. “However I choose to deal with one of my girls has nothing to do with-” 

Kaz moved languidly as he produced a pistol from beneath his jacket.  The sound of the metal clanking softly as he cocked the weapon cut off the remainder of Heleen’s tirade, and her voice fell off weakly as Kaz lifted the barrel to her forehead.  

“I asked you nicely. Twice .  Either you let her go, or I make you.” 

Inej’s breath halted in her lungs, choking her, and as she stared at the gun in Kaz’s hands all she could hear was the thudding of her heartbeat in her ears.  

It could all be over right now, she thought the longer that Heleen held firm, her glare violent.  A few more seconds and he’ll pull the trigger, and then all of this will be over. 

Though, even as she thought it, a wave of distaste flooded through her.  It didn’t make any sense. This is what Inej wanted .  It was the entire reason she’d bound herself to Kaz Brekker in the first place. She needed someone with the guts to do this, someone to look Heleen in the eyes and make her choke on every horrific word that had ever left her mouth, someone to bring about her karmic reckoning.  She hadn’t picked Brekker because he was a knight in shining armor that would come save her.  She’d picked him because he was a devil with blood on his hands and a thirst for more.  

So why did it feel wrong to watch his finger stretch toward the trigger? 

Heleen released her hold on Inej all at once, and the sudden lack of pressure left Inej stumbling backward.  

Run , her brain screamed again. Jump .  

But she didn’t.  She stayed where she was, staring at Kaz and the weapon that was an extension of his own arm, and she wished for two entirely different things at the same time.  

“If you bother my crew again, I’ll kill you,” he warned, his voice even and strong.  

My crew .  As temporary as it might be, the words sent a chill down Inej’s spine.

Heleen’s lips curled in a snarl. “She is not yours to claim, Brekker.” 

“She can claim herself.”  Kaz lowered his gun as leisurely as he’d lifted it.  “Now get the hell out of my face.” 

The disgust on Heleen’s face was clear when she turned her cold stare to Inej again.  Instead of wishing she could cower at that look, Inej pulled her shoulders back this time, countering Heleen’s violent glare with a stony expression of her own.  Inej expected insults to be hurled, threats to be tossed at her feet, but instead, Heleen turned without another word, stomping down the length of the carpeted hallway in silence. 

And, as she turned the corner, Inej found relief flooding her system while at the same time a new sense of dread began to seep into her bones.  Kaz would have questions, surely.  They would be questions that Inej had the answers to but not the strength to give them.  On top of that, some small part of her worried that if he spoke now she might fall apart, and neither of them had the time or the energy for that right now.  They had a job to do, after all.  

Her shoulders tensed as he inhaled deeply, bracing herself for the questions she knew were coming.  However, she was saved when a new form, now familiar and a gracious sight after Heleen’s presence, rounded the corner onto the hall as well.  Jesper strode forward, eyeing the gun in Kaz’s hand warily, and a few steps behind him came Erik.  

“Just the man I needed to see today,” Kaz called, and Erik’s feet faltered beneath him.  

He didn’t sound very surprised to see Kaz when he answered, “You shouldn’t be here.” 

“I won’t be long.  I just have a couple of questions.” 

“Haskell isn’t going to stand for this,” Erik accused, glancing back the way he’d come.  Jesper, however, was waiting for him, hands on the revolvers at his hips and a challenging grin on his face. 

“I care very little about what the old man wants,” Kaz said, striding forward.  Jesper moved at the same time, like a practiced dance, and Erik tensed as he felt himself being boxed in.  

“You’ve made that plenty clear already,” Erik accused.  “Was removing you from The Dregs not enough?” 

Kaz ignored him.  “You’re working for Commander Jarl Brum.” 

Erik rolled his eyes. “Just because I’m Fjerdan doesn’t mean-” 

“Shut up,” Kaz interrupted, and Erik raised his eyebrows as if insulted.  “That wasn’t a question.  The question is what does Brum want ?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Erik spoke quickly, glancing over his shoulder again to confirm that Jesper remained armed behind him. 

“I don’t have time to play games today, Erik,” Kaz said around a sigh.  “What does Brum want?  Is it money?  Power?  A cut of Dregs business?” 

Erik shook his head.  “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Then enlighten me,” Kaz snapped, his hand tightening around the weapon still in his grip.  “Is he the one who set me up outside of Haskell’s house the other day?  He owes me a new car for that, if so.” 

“Brekker, there are things in motion that you cannot possibly understand,” Erik answered, his tone a warning.  “Take your friends, get out of this building, and drop it, alright?” 

“I’ve never really been the type to give up that easily.” 

Behind Erik, Jesper’s brows furrowed.  He stepped back toward the corner, glancing down the adjoining hall, and his shoulders slumped in an instant. 

“Kaz, we have company,” he warned, rushing past Erik to meet Kaz.  Erik, concern written on his face, turned back just in time to find four men in half-decent suits and guns in their hands rounding the corner.  

Both Kaz and Jesper lifted their own weapons as they took tentative steps backwards.  And, by the time they reached Inej, she had two small throwing blades ready in each hand, her feet braced against the carpeted floor.  Gone was the stricken fear she’d felt before, and in its place was the roaring pump of adrenaline. 

“Looks like you’re outnumbered, Brekker,” Erik spoke with a grin.  He and the group of reinforcements began to move in, their weapons at the ready.  

“Looks that way,” Kaz muttered, slipping a gloved hand into his pocket. 

One of the Dregs that had joined Erik shouted a warning for them to drop their weapons.  Inej answered by strengthening her stance, Jesper answered by pulling the hammers back on both his revolvers, and Kaz’s only reply was a wicked smirk.  

They were growing closer, their footsteps stomping almost as loudly as the pulse in Inej’s ears.  

“Kaz!” Jesper hissed.  “A plan would be nice!” 

“Just wait,” Kaz said, watching the group advance.  And so they did.  They held their ground and waited until the collection of Dregs was nearly halfway down the hall.  They were just stepping underneath the wide mouth of an air vent when Kaz’s hand in his pocket shifted.  

There was no warning.  One moment, the men were there, and the next, the air vent above them exploded outward, covering them in bits of metal and debris.  The floor beneath their feet rocked with the force of the explosion, and the hallway was a cloud of smoke and dust.  Faint shouts could be heard over the ringing in Inej’s ears, but she couldn’t make out the words. 

“Window,” Kaz instructed, tucking his gun away finally.  As one, the group of three turned to bolt for the storage closet door.  The ground continued to rumble as a chain of small explosives that Inej had placed last night went off one by one, rocking the building on its foundation.  

Jesper was the first out of the window, and Inej and Kaz stood on either side with their hands braced against the wall as they waited for him to get halfway down.  

“You go next,” Inej ordered, grabbing onto a nearby metal shelf as the force of the second larger explosion shook the entire building.  They didn’t have long if they wanted to make a clean getaway, and yet Kaz hesitated, his dark eyes searching her for an answer to a question he hadn’t yet asked, until finally Inej shouted, “Go!”

He listened, then, and he’d just started to climb down when Inej heard a yell from the hall, then another, and then a third.  They were moving toward her, and there was nowhere to hide. 

Hurriedly, she cast a glance out of the window.  Jesper had already hit the ground, and he held Kaz’s previously abandoned cane in one hand while he wiped sweat from his forehead with the other.  Kaz was barely halfway down, but the voices were closing in.  Inej had no choice.  She swung her legs over the windowsill and began to climb down, lowering hand over hand as fast as she could. 

A flash of light caught her attention, and a glance upward revealed Erik’s disheveled form in the window.  The knife in his hand flashed in the bits of remaining light as he sliced at the rope, a cold determination on his face.  

Inej had just parted her lips to shout a warning when the thick rope snapped, and then suddenly she was falling. 

Chapter Text

“Nina!” 

Wylan’s voice was tinny in Nina’s ears, barely audible over the sharp ringing and chorus of shouts coming at her from every angle. A quick survey of herself revealed that she wasn’t injured, but the force of the unexpected blast had left her on the ground. 

When the bodies around them began to press in, each one yelling or screaming as they fought their way to an exit, Wylan’s hands found Nina’s arm, tugging with all his might in an effort to get her onto her feet before she was trampled.  She’d nearly made it upright when someone stepped on her dress, causing her to stumble again.  Wylan caught her before she fell, and by the time she finally got her feet up under her again, they were practically squished within the crowd of fundraiser guests shoving their way toward the main entrance. 

“What the hell was that?” Nina demanded, keeping her voice low as she scanned her eyes around the room.  Debris had left the room hazy and smoky, but Nina could see well enough to know that the main entrance was useless at this point with bodies packed into a tight funnel in an effort to escape.  

“I told you,” Wylan whispered back, knocking into Nina’s shoulder as someone shoved past him.  “A distraction.” 

Nina did her best to keep the accusation out of her voice as she said, “A distraction that no one warned me about.” 

“Sorry,” Wylan winced, his apology clear on his face.  “I was busy building them. I figured someone else would have told you.” 

Nina sucked her teeth.  She supposed she couldn’t entirely blame Wylan.  He was still new, after all.  Besides, she was the one who’d left their debrief meeting early last night, but in her defense, she couldn’t sit there any longer, feeling Matthias’s stare on the side of her face, his distaste for her crawling under her skin.  

She opened her mouth to tell Wylan it was alright, when the ground shook again, another low rumble that seemed to continue for minutes.  Guests gasped, some screamed, and the steady stream of bodies pressed against them grew more insistent.  

Nina braced her feet, trying to hold her ground as she wracked her brain for the memory of the makeshift map that The Wraith and Kaz had gone over with them last night.  There was the main entrance, which was nothing but a mess of shouting, shoving, and tugging at this point.  Nina was not about to subject either herself or Wylan to that experience, but their path to the rear entrance was blocked off by the wall that had crumbled behind her.  

“The kitchen,” she said suddenly, remembering the tiny x marking a staff entrance to the main floor along the side of the convention center.  She turned, searching for the doorway that would lead them into the kitchen. Beyond the crowd they’d have to push through to get there, the path was unobscured. 

Wylan turned in time with her, and Nina grabbed his hand in her own before she set off towards the kitchen.  They were pushing against the flow of the crowd, which meant that shoulders knocked roughly into their own, shoes stamped on their feet, and at one point, they were jostled so harshly that their hands fell apart.  Nina had just turned back to look for Wylan when he sprang up behind her again, returning his hand to hers with a sudden death grip as he stared at her with wide, anxious eyes. With a reassuring squeeze to his hand, Nina kept pushing against the crowd, shoving bodies out of her way as needed while tugging Wylan along behind her.  

By the time they made it to the kitchen and had slipped out into the street beside the convention center, they were both breathless.  Wylan finally dropped his vice grip on Nina’s hand in order to bend forward, bracing both hands on his knees as he gulped in lungfuls of fresh air untainted by the smoke and debris inside.  

Nina tilted her head back toward the Ketterdam night sky and sucked in a deep breath as well.  She was in the process of relishing the feeling of semi-clean air in her lungs when a thought caught up with her. 

“Wylan.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Matthias got out before the bombs went off, right?” 

There was a moment of hesitation that made Nina’s heart constrict in her chest, but then Wylan answered, “Yeah.  Yeah, he was already out before you found me.” 

A sigh of relief rushed from Nina’s lungs, and despite the fact that it meant Matthias was likely wandering the streets of Ketterdam on his own, at least he wasn’t stuck inside in a swarm of bodies all crushing towards the entrance. 

“What about Jesper?” Wylan asked, pulling himself upright.  Worry tugged his brows together.  “He was upstairs with Kaz and The Wraith.  Did they…would they have been able to get out?” 

“They can handle themselves,” Nina assured, though she found her eyes skating up the side of the building anyway, searching for them in the windows.  Finding nothing, she continued, “If Kaz planned the distraction, he planned an escape route.” 

Wylan nodded, but he didn’t look convinced.  His voice was quiet when he asked, “What do we do now, then?” 

“We go to the meeting point,” Nina said, keeping her tone even.  Last night, they’d picked a street several blocks away from the convention center as their place to meet if shit went south, and, if Nina were to be the judge, she’d say they’d reached that point.  “That’s where they went once they got out.” 

Wylan’s expression was uncertain, but he nodded along with Nina’s plan anyway.  While Nina took a moment to turn her head left and right to orient herself, Wylan used the time to straighten his suit back out and smooth his hair away from his face.  He still looked a bit shell shocked from their escape, which Nina thought was a bit ironic for the person who made the bombs , but she was polite enough not to comment on it.  Instead, she moved past him, heading in the direction where she’d parked her car. 

The scream of sirens had begun to fill the air by the time they made it two streets over to Nina’s parked car.  Wylan seemed to have shaken off most of the anxiety that had clung to him minutes before as he slid into the passenger seat beside Nina. 

“Call Kaz and Jesper,” Nina instructed calmly, cranking the engine.  “Keep trying them both until one of them picks up.” 

Wylan already had his phone pressed against his ear when Nina peeled out of her parking spot.  After thirty seconds, he brought the phone away with a sigh, typed away on his screen, and then brought the phone up to his ear again.  He repeated the process nearly ten times while Nina fought against the stop-and-go traffic surrounding the convention center. 

Finally, he dropped his phone into his lap with a frustrated sigh.  

“Call them again,” Nina insisted, though she could feel her pulse picking up at the implication.  It wasn’t like either of them to ignore multiple calls in a row like this, but she couldn’t let her mind wander far with that idea.  “Just one more time. We’re almost at the meeting point. They’ll be there.” 

Wylan did as he was told, calling both men once more.  When his hand slowly lowered away from his ear for the second time, Nina’s stomach dropped.  

“They’re okay,” she muttered under her breath, moreso to herself at this point than for Wylan’s benefit.  Nina signaled left, turning onto the street they were set to meet, and the moment she did, she felt relief flood through her. 

Rounding the opposite corner of the street were three forms - one limping slightly and leaning against a heavy cane, one with her arms crossed over her chest, and one waving wildly the moment his eyes landed on Nina’s car. 

Nina slowed to a crawl as they reached the trio, and she heard Wylan’s slow exhale of relief beside her.  Kaz rounded the car to Wylan’s side and slid wordlessly into the backseat.  Behind Nina, Jesper opened the door, motioning for The Wraith to get in.  For a moment, she hesitated, glancing around the street as if searching for another viable option for escape, before she finally gave in and slipped into the middle of the backseat, her shoulders hunched.

“Thank god you showed up,” Jesper groaned, falling into the seat behind Nina.  “I was worried we’d have to walk home.” 

Nina cast him an unimpressed look in the rearview.  “What happened to hi, Nina, glad to see that you and Wylan are alright ?” 

Jesper grinned at her in response.  “Hi, Nina.  Glad to see that you and Wylan are alright.” 

Jesper, too, seemed to be uninjured and riled up from their escape, as he always was whenever faced with a close call.  Kaz seemed alright as well, though he was holding himself more tensely than Nina was used to - which was saying something considering how tense Kaz Brekker tended to be.  In the middle, though, The Wraith sat silently, a bright splash of red leaking from her hairline down her temple.  

Nina turned in her seat to face the other woman.  “How bad is that cut?” 

The Wraith stared back at her, expressionless and quiet as she answered, “It’s fine.” 

“How’d that happen?” 

The Wraith opened her mouth to speak, but Jesper cut in. 

“Erik cut the ropes while she was climbing down, and she smacked her head pretty good when she landed,” he explained, ignoring the cutting glare from the woman beside him.  “Probably would have been a lot worse if Kaz hadn’t broken her fall.” 

Nina raised a brow at Kaz, who stared back at her in challenging silence.  The Wraith also kept silent, though her hands were shaking lightly in her lap as she looked past Nina, staring through the windshield.  

Worried, Nina asked, “Are you sure that you’re-”

“Drive, Nina,” Kaz instructed harshly.  Irritated, Nina slid her eyes in his direction again. 

“Are you not even going to ask about what happened to Matthias?” 

Kaz met her glare with a bored look. “Did he die?” 

“ No .” 

“Then I don’t care.  Drive.” 

“Kaz.” 

“Drive.” 

Nina grunted in frustration. “Would you just let me-” 

“ Nina!” Kaz shouted, the volume making The Wraith jump slightly beside him and everyone else fall silent in an instant.  Kaz Brekker rarely raised his voice, rarely needed to, so when he did, Nina knew well enough to keep her head down and listen.  His voice was quieter but no less stern as he instructed, “Drive us to the apartments.  Now.   I’ll deal with Helvar later.” 

Biting her lip to hold back the sling of words she wished to say, Nina turned around in her seat to take the wheel again.  Nothing but silence filled the car as she drove off, though it didn’t last long with Jesper present. 

“Speaking of, what happened to the not-so-gentle giant?” 

Nina cast a knowing look at Wylan. “Brum was there tonight.” 

“Oh, shit,” Jesper muttered, leaning forward to put himself between Nina and Wylan.  It put him practically leaning across The Wraith’s lap, and she leaned back out of his way with her eyes tightly closed.  “Did Matthias confront him?” 

“No, he just bolted for the entrance. He was gone before the first bomb even went off.”  Wylan paused in his explanation.  He twisted in his seat then, drawing his brows together as he craned his neck past Jesper’s shoulder to find The Wraith.  “Are you sure you’re alright?” 

The Wraith opened her eyes into slits, glaring harshly at Wylan as she repeated, “I’m fine .” 

Despite her words, she was pulling in short, hurried breaths, and her hands were still trembling slightly where they rested in her lap.  Unconvinced, Wylan turned back to Jesper and Nina, who shared their own worried look before continuing their conversation.  

“Did you get much out of Erik?” Nina asked. 

“Unfortunately not,” Jesper answered, leaning back in his own seat again. “We didn’t have long with him before reinforcements came looking for Kaz.” 

Nina sent Kaz a curious look.  “How did they even know you were there?  Who blew your cover?” 

“Heleen van Houden," Kaz answered.  Nina’s face screwed up in confusion. 

“Heleen?  How’d she even find you? Was she just perusing through the storage closets?” 

In the rearview, Nina saw Kaz’s eyes slide to The Wraith, just for a fraction of a second.  She didn’t return the look, and Kaz quickly shifted his gaze to the window.  “It doesn’t matter now.” 

Beside him, The Wraith leaned forward, dropping her head into her hands as if it weighed a ton.  A sheen of sweat had begun to bead along her forehead, mixing with the remnants of blood along her hairline.  Everyone other than Kaz shared a concerned look with one another. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Jesper asked again, reaching out to place a gentle hand on her shoulder.  The touch, as soft as it may have been, seemed to send an electric shock through the small girl.  She leapt backwards violently, knocking Jesper’s hand away from her with a resounding slap . 

“ Don’t ,” she snapped, a sudden darkness crossing over her expression.  Jesper’s eyes had gone wide, but he nodded at the instruction, holding his hands up in surrender as he turned away from her.  From her other side, Kaz was watching her closely out of the corner of his eye, though he said nothing. 

The Wraith, feeling multiple sets of eyes on her, insisted again, “I told you I was fine . Can we drop it?” 

None of them in the car believed it, but the glare that The Wraith settled onto each of them was enough to keep them from asking the question again.  

In an effort to change the topic, Nina asked, “So what did you manage to get out of Erik?” 

“Not much,” Jesper answered when it seemed that Kaz was too busy shuffling his gaze between the window and The Wraith to respond.  “He kept saying that there were things we couldn’t understand, and then the reinforcements showed up so we had to go with Plan B.” 

“Uh huh,” Nina replied, clicking her tongue. “You know, the next time you guys decide to lace and entire fucking building with bombs, I’d like to be made aware.” 

Kaz’s voice was cool and uninterested as he said, “You left the room before our meeting was over.” 

“I couldn’t stay in that room with Matthias anymore,” Nina argued, and it was as though she could feel the weight of his gaze on her all over again.  “It was making me sick.” 

“What you do or do not have the stomach for is none of my business,” Kaz snapped back.  “I’m not repeating myself because you can’t pull yourself together for an hour.” 

From the backseat, The Wraith let out a quiet, shuddering breath, wringing her hands together in her lap.  It was a sound completely obscured by Nina’s scoff of irritation. 

“I’ve put up with a lot of shit in the past week because of you, Kaz.  Do not pin this on me.” 

In an effort to ease the tension, Jesper offered, “Next time, text me to see what you missed!” 

“Or just don’t miss part of the meeting,” Kaz intervened. “You’re letting your pride get the best of you, and it’s starting to have consequences.” 

Nina’s glare was vicious in the rearview.  “ My pride?  So we’re just going to ignore the fact that we wouldn’t be in any of this goddamn mess if you’d just keep your mouth shut and wait for your turn at the table instead of going after Haskell.” 

“I’m not waiting to take what I’ve earned,” Kaz snapped, and Nina knew she’d gotten under his skin.  “And I’d highly suggest you choose your next words carefully, Zenik.” 

“Why?  Because-” 

“Can we…” The Wraith interrupted, tugging at the collar of her coat.  During their argument, her face had slowly drained of all color, and the ragged breaths she was dragging in caused her voice to give out quickly.  She swallowed roughly and tried again.  “Could we-” 

Before she could finish the rest of her question, her eyes rolled back and she slumped forward, nearly pitching herself into Jesper’s lap before Kaz caught her by the shoulder. 

“Shit,” Nina cursed, her irritation with Kaz fizzling out as she began to search for a place to pull over.  

“Keep driving,” Kaz ordered when he felt the car begin to tug to the right.  Slowly, he pulled The Wraith backwards by her shoulder until her back connected with the seat once more.  

Nina flicked her eyes toward the rearview again, nervously cataloging the girl’s ashen face lolled back against the headrest. “If she hit her head, she might need-” 

“It isn’t that,” Kaz interrupted with a shake of his head. “Just get us back to the apartments.” 

Nina couldn’t argue with the sureness in Kaz’s tone, so she set herself back on course, pressing the accelerator a bit harder as they neared their block. 

In the backseat, Kaz shuffled as far away from The Wraith as was possible in the narrow space, and a quick wave of his hand convinced Jesper to do the same.  Soon, both men were pressed awkwardly against their car doors, allowing several inches between themselves and the girl between them.  

Tentatively, Jesper held a hand out in front of her face.  He dropped it quickly, announcing, “She’s breathing, but it’s shallow.” 

“Nina.  AC,” Kaz instructed coolly, and Nina reached for the dashboard instantly.  Beside her, Wylan collected a stack of mail that Nina had left in her car, using the envelopes to fan The Wraith, and Jesper slowly and carefully lifted her legs onto the center console.  During all of this, Kaz’s eyes were glued to The Wraith’s face, his brow stern and his gaze focused.  

The car had just turned onto their street when The Wraith’s eyes slowly fluttered open, and the rest of the car released a relieved exhale in unison.  Color was returning to her skin as she blinked up at the roof of the car once, twice, and on the third blink, realization smacked into her and she sat up in a rush.  

“You’re okay,” Jesper comforted, somehow managing to scoot back an extra centimeter. The Wraith’s eyes were wild as they slid around the car and the blur of buildings rushing past them in the windows.  “You just fainted. How’s your head?” 

“It’s fine,” she said again, though the words sounded hollow and distant.  Her head turned to Kaz, and when their eyes met, they seemed trapped there for a moment, reading each other’s expressions in a way that no one else in that car could.  She snapped out of their trancelike stare when the car pitched to the right. “Where are we?” 

“Home,” Jesper answered as Nina slid into a parking spot.  

The moment the car was stopped, Kaz was already out, shaking off his jacket as if invisible dirt clung to it.  He had a cigarette between his lips and lit before Wylan, Nina, and Jesper had climbed out of the car to join him outside the worn brick apartment building. 

The Wraith was the last out of the car, moving shakily.  When her feet finally met asphalt and she stood, she wobbled for a moment, her teeth digging into her lower lip as she tried to focus on steadying herself.  Jesper was nearest, and his arms shot out on instinct to offer support. 

“Don’t touch her,” Kaz’s instruction cut through the air.  Jesper hesitated for a moment, then let his arms fall to his sides.  The Wraith didn’t speak, but she offered Jesper a small nod as she rounded the car door.  

Wylan and Jesper slowly began to head for the apartment entrance, but Nina held back, watching as The Wraith began to follow. She kept her hand on the car for support, taking small, weak steps forward.  

Nina let it go on for a few moments longer before she couldn’t stand it anymore. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she muttered, moving forward to help.  Her fingertips had just barely grazed The Wraith’s elbow when Nina felt a sharp tug on her shoulder that forced her stumbling back.  

“I said don’t, Zenik,” Kaz’s voice was low, close to her ear.  The Wraith didn’t bother to look back as she continued after Wylan and Jesper, who had both paused to watch Nina and Kaz carefully.  

“When you joined The Dregs, I told you that you’d have to learn to take orders,” Kaz continued, letting go of Nina’s shoulder and taking a step back.  “Did you forget?” 

Nina scoffed, turning to gesture at The Wraith, who was still pitifully working her way across the parking lot to the entrance.  “I’m not letting her struggle her way up three flights of stairs alone, Kaz.”  

“She’s fine,” Kaz answered coolly, not taking his eyes off of Nina. 

“Yeah, that’s what she said, too, right before she passed out.”  Nina paused, then added, “She doesn’t have to suffer to prove herself to you, Kaz.  Let me help her.” 

Without hesitation, Kaz answered, “No.” 

“If you’re going to be this protective over your little girlfriend, then you help her, but I’m not going to watch her struggle just because you won’t let anyone else touch her.” 

Slowly, Kaz broke his gaze and slid it toward the other three.  Even The Wraith had paused now, though she’d caught up with Jesper and Wylan at least.  

“Go,” Kaz told them, his voice revealing nothing even though a muscle in his jaw twitched with his annoyance.  

Kaz brought his cigarette to his lips again as the other three headed inside, and when the door swung shut behind them, he released the smoke directly into Nina’s face.  She batted at the air with one hand, wishing she could bat at Kaz with the other. 

“Three things, Zenik,” he started, dropping the cigarette to the ground between them and crushing the still glowing end with the heel of his shoe.  “First, she is not my anything, and I’d recommend that you keep your assumptions to yourself.  Second, I’m not forcing her to suffer for fun.  The simple fact is that she doesn’t need my help, or yours, or anyone’s.  If you try to force it onto her, she’ll give up on helping us and return to doing her business all on her own.  Third, you’re not coming upstairs yet.” 

Nina’s scowl, which had set into place when Kaz had started speaking, deepened.  “Why the hell not?” 

“Someone needs to check on Matthias,” he stated simply.  “I’d start with the hotel he was staying at before.  He still has a room booked under his name.” 

“Send Wylan,” Nina insisted sharply.  “He’s still a recruit, and he needs to put in his hours.  I’m done being Matthias’s babysitter for you.” 

Kaz shook his head slowly in response.  “I’m sending you.” 

“ Kaz -” 

“You were the one who was so worried about whether or not he was alright a few minutes ago,” Kaz snapped.  “Don’t you wonder why that is?” 

Nina clenched her jaw. “He’s a loose end.  It would be bad for us if he ended up talking to the wrong person.” 

A smirk fell on Kaz’s lips.  “Sure, Nina. That’s why you care so much.” 

“I hate you,” Nina spat, but the words merely bounced off of Kaz as he stepped around her.  

“Come on, Zenik, you were so concerned about where he ended up,” he accused, heading toward the apartment entrance and leaving Nina behind.  “Why don’t you go find out?” 

Her glare clung to his back as he continued across the lot.  When the door closed behind him, Nina turned and kicked her tire roughly, muttering a string of curses under her breath - most of which included Kaz’s name.  

She hated him, but above that, she hated that he was right. If she went upstairs, her thoughts would have spun with all the imagined scenarios Matthias could have gotten himself into, and she’d be utterly useless to the rest of them until she knew he was alright.  And for that, she hated herself a little bit too.  

With one last kick and a frustrated yell, Nina finally gave in and climbed back into her car, tires screeching as she pulled away from the apartment.  

Chapter Text

Jesper had been so busy monitoring The Wraith’s unstable progress up the stairs that he didn’t notice anything was awry until they reached the third floor and began down the hall.  Nina and Kaz’s apartments caused no concern, but as Jesper approached his own door, he realized that it sat slightly ajar, the wood surrounding the lock splintered and cracked. 

Jesper stopped, both of his arms shooting out to keep Wylan and The Wraith from proceeding any further down the hall. 

“We closed that, didn’t we?” Jesper whispered, knowing the answer but needing to hear it confirmed aloud.  Over his shoulder, Wylan’s head popped up to survey the situation.  The damage to the door was so subtle that it took Wylan a moment to understand Jesper’s concern.

“You locked it when we left,” Wylan answered with a nod, taking a step back from both Jesper and the door.  Instinctively, Jesper’s hands moved to the guns on his hips, and Wylan’s worried voice asked, “Should I go get Kaz?”

“For what?” Kaz demanded, sounding no less irritated than he had when speaking with Nina.  Jesper risked no more than a glance out of the corner of his eye, and he found Kaz nearing the landing onto the third floor.

None of them needed to offer an explanation, though.  It took Kaz only a second to read the situation, take in Jesper’s rigid form and the gun he was slowly removing from the holster, and then he was hurrying up the last few steps and removing his own weapon. 

Kaz pushed past Wylan in order to stand by Jesper, and behind them, there was the tell-tale schlink of blades being unsheathed as The Wraith found her own weapon.  Neither she nor Wylan seemed ready for a fight in their current state, but a second knife was removed and pressed into Wylan’s palm anyway. 

Calmly, Kaz gave Jesper a small, approving nod, and then the two of them pressed forward at once, their weapons raised and hearts pounding with anticipation. At the door, Jesper took a deep breath to settle his nerves, and then he roughly kicked his apartment door open, his gun at the ready.

While Jesper had never boasted about keeping a neat house, walking into his living room now felt like bearing witness to the aftermath of some natural disaster.  The television, along with the tall stand it had once stood on, had found its way to the floor, the screen cracked across the center.  The curtain that typically hung over the nearby window had been torn from the rod, barely hanging on by a few stubborn threads. Each of the couch cushions had been removed and haphazardly tossed about the room, along with the few thin pillows that now had thick slashes carved across the back.  The coffee table, like everything else, had been dismantled and turned onto its side, the hidden junk stuffed into the drawers now dumped onto the carpet.

Jesper shared a look with Kaz that was at once confused and concerned, and then they continued deeper into the apartment, their guns still ready for any intruders that might jump out at them.

When he turned into the kitchen, an uneasiness settled deep in Jesper’s chest.  Each of the cabinets had been opened, as had the drawers, and the contents of both now spilled across the linoleum.  Several busted beer bottles laid in front of the open refrigerator, filling the kitchen with the acrid odor of cheap beer. 

Jesper only managed to look away from the chaos when Kaz nudged him, gesturing down the short hallway.  Right, Jesper reminded himself as he turned, steadying his weapon, we’re not safe enough to gawk at the damage yet.

The bathroom was much the same as the living room and kitchen.  The cabinet doors beneath the sink had been torn open, one hanging on by only a single hinge now, and the contents had been pulled out to litter the floor.  A plastic shower curtain covered the tile as well, having been torn down along with the thick metal rod that had kept it upright. 

All that was left was the bedroom, and as Jesper opened the door, he realized that this room had taken the brunt of the damage.  It was hard to even identify the objects scattering over the carpet, much less take stock.  His dresser drawers had been removed and upturned, leaving piles of clothes sprinkled periodically around the room.  They mixed with the clothes and hangers that had been dragged out of his closet, along with the trinkets and the shelves that had been ripped from the walls, broken into pieces, and scattered atop the piles of garments.  The mattress itself had been stripped, tugged off the frame, and left in the center of the floor.  Thick white stuffing poked out of the mess here and there, and Jesper thought it might have come from a pillow.  A quick count revealed that one was indeed missing, and was likely the culprit of the wispy fibers scattered all around. 

“It’s clear,” he announced, though he didn’t sound quite like himself.  Slowly, he lowered his weapon.  Whoever had done this was long gone, and they’d left one hell of a mess for Jesper to clean. 

Kaz entered the bedroom behind him, putting his weapon away.  “Clearly not a robbery.”

Jesper followed Kaz’s gaze to where his laptop rested in the corner, the top dented in.  Nearby sat the collection of expensive watches that Jesper had collected during his years of gambling, the faces shattered.  The TV in the living room had also been destroyed and left behind, meaning that Kaz was right.  Whatever this was, it was only meant to cause damage and chaos. 

“The fuck did they want?” Jesper muttered, more to himself than to Kaz. 

He could feel Kaz’s gaze on him, but before Jesper could turn to meet it, Kaz announced, “I’m going to check on mine and Nina’s.”

He disappeared back down the hallway quickly.  Jesper followed, a bit slower.  He felt like a daze had settled over him, leaving everything in his view a little disoriented.  In the living room, he found Wylan and The Wraith, the former of which was returning his borrowed weapon, and the latter was tucking it away with trembling but unerring fingers. 

Before Jesper could speak to either of them, Kaz returned in the doorway.

“Neither of our apartments have been touched.”

With a shocked laugh, Jesper answered, “I mean, I’m sure they were exhausted after handling mine.” 

“Pissed anyone off recently?” Kaz questioned, leaning his shoulder against the door frame. 

“No more than usual.”

Kaz nodded slowly, folding his arms over his chest as his dark eyes skimmed over the living room again.  When he met Jesper’s gaze again, his expression was stern. 

“Who do you owe this time, Jes?”

Jesper’s restless limbs had been settling on his hips, brushing over his hair, smoothing across his face, but all at once they went still.  “What?”

“Who do you owe?” Kaz repeated, and the resignation in his voice said more than his actual words ever could.  Shame settled heavily in Jesper’s gut as Kaz continued. “Your place is wrecked, Jesper.  Someone was looking for something, something from you and you alone.  Seeing as how nothing appears to be missing, I can only assume they were searching for cash. So, who do you owe, and how much is it going to cost me to get you out of it this time?”

Jesper swallowed thickly. “I told you I stopped gambling a few months ago.  You just assume that I’ve been lying to you?”

“Would it be the first time?” Kaz challenged, and Jesper’s gaze fell to the floor. 

Burning eyes locked on the mess beneath his feet, Jesper insisted, “I meant it when I told you I would stop last time.  My debts are all paid up – I made sure of it.”

“With your own money for once?”

“Fuck you,” Jesper snapped, his eyes shooting towards Kaz.  Where Jesper was a bundle of nerves and tightened fists, though, Kaz was the picture of nonchalance.  His expression was dark but blank, unreadable.  Nearby, Wylan and The Wraith were shooting glances between the two of them, unsure if they needed to intervene.  “I never asked for anyone’s money.”

“No, but you sure took enough of it over the years.”

Jesper knew, he knew that the past few days had been hell for Kaz.  He knew Kaz was exhausted, running on fumes and nicotine, and that left him primed to lash out.  But none of that eased the sting of his words in the slightest.

“You don’t get throw that back in my face,” Jesper argued. “The Dregs offered to pay my debts every single time.”

“It was never the fucking Dregs, Jesper.”

This made Jesper pause. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The Dregs offered to pay off your debt once.  After that, you became a liability.  Someone else had to pick up the slack when you fell in head first time after time.”

Realization hollowed Jesper out.  His voice was soft when he confirmed, “It was you.”

Kaz shrugged, quiet and indifference. “You pick up the stray, you clean up after it. Though, I’d have expected it to grow up a bit by now and stop leaving messes for me to deal with.”

Jesper’s eyes were hot again as he shook his head. “I didn’t do this.”

“No, but whoever did is extremely pissed, so you might want to settle things with them pretty quickly.”

“You’re not listening,” Jesper accused, his voice rising with every word.  It wasn’t anger, but the simple desire to be heard.  “Whatever this is, whoever did it, it is not my fault. Maybe…maybe it has something to do with all this shit with Haskell.”

“No one else knows about this shit with Haskell.  This-” Kaz’s eyes shot to the mess on the ground – “is personal.  I have contacts in all the major casinos around Ketterdam, and none of them have mentioned seeing you recently.  So, where is your new stomping ground, and how much do you owe them?”

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me?” Jesper demanded, embarrassment heavy in his belly.  Kaz didn’t answer, just continued to stare Jesper down and wait. Desperately, Jesper continued, “I don’t owe anyone.  Fuck, Kaz, I haven’t even touched a card table in months! I don’t know what this is about!”

Silence answered him.  The look on Kaz’s face was one that Jesper knew well.  It was the look that meant you had one final chance to change your answer, and it was a look that made Jesper feel like his heart was on the verge of shattering. 

In a clipped, even tone, Kaz replied, “I don’t believe you.”

Jesper wasn’t entirely surprised.  It was written all over Kaz’s face.  The unfortunate truth, though, was that Jesper couldn’t entirely blame him.  Kaz was the one who’d been there to witness every misstep, every relapse, every downward spiral that ended with cards in his hands and tears in his eyes. 

Yet, still, Jesper felt like breaking when he heard the words spoken aloud. 

“Fine,” Jesper replied, his own voice nowhere near as even as Kaz’s.  “Get out.”

Kaz tipped his head to the side, new disappointment clear. “Jesper, don’t-”

“I have a shit ton of cleaning to do, in case you didn’t notice,” Jesper interrupted.  He felt like he was trembling at the seams, and he needed to be alone.  “So, go.  Please.”

He didn’t stick around to see if Kaz listened.  Instead, Jesper turned his back to the small group in the living room and headed for his bedroom, where he had his work cut out for him.  If his irritation hadn’t been clear before, though, it certainly was when he slammed the bedroom door with enough force to rattle the frame.

For a long moment, Jesper simply stood amidst the mess in his room, his fingers curling and uncurling into fists over and over.  He’d been working so fucking hard for the past several months, pouring his all into improving himself, into changing.  Even when the cards called to him, even when the desire was so strong he could choke on it. He’d wanted to prove himself to Kaz, to Nina, to anyone else who had allowed themselves to trust him when he wasn’t worthy of their trust to begin with. 

But the damage had been done years ago.  He’d never be more than his mistakes, and that fact had never been clearer to him than it was right now. 

The quiet of the apartment was beginning to get to him, nagging at his bones.  That fact combined with his mounting frustration had him desiring to storm out of this building, find the first game of cards he came across, and play hand after hand until the urge was sated. 

But doing that meant Kaz was right.  So, instead, Jesper fished his phone from his pocket and selected the angriest, loudest playlist he had.  With the volume maxed out, he sat his phone down on the somehow still upright nightstand, and forced his mind to focus on the task at hand.

As he set to work cleaning up the mess scattering his floor, his mind went blank.  Jesper didn’t stop moving until all of his drawers were refilled and pushed back into place, his shirts were returned to their hangers and placed into the closet, and his broken figurines and posters were deposited into the tiny trashcan he kept in the corner. 

His gun safe, at least, seemed untouched. Though, there were a few jagged scratches along the metal near the lock that told Jesper an attempt had been made to open it.  However, when he unlocked the safe, he found that all of the items were accounted for, and he nodded a quiet approval before locking it once more and shutting the closet door. 

The mattress was finally moved back onto the bed frame, the sheets were replaced, and the remaining pillows were thrown back into their correct spot on the bed.  By then, the room was beginning to look somewhat normal again, and Jesper’s temper was slowly cooling.  The urge to creep out of the apartment and get his hands on a stack of cards was still there, but it had turned to a dull nag. 

With the now overflowing trash can in his hand, Jesper left his bedroom.  His plan had been to stop by the bathroom and get that in order before making his way to the mess in the kitchen and living room, but when he flicked on the bathroom lights, he found that the disaster had already been dealt with.  The shower curtain had been shoddily repaired and returned to the rod, the cabinets had been refilled and closed as best they could, and the spilled mess on the floor had been wiped clean. 

Confused, Jesper turned the lights off and proceeded to the kitchen, his music growing softer the farther he went from his phone.  He found the reason for the now-cleaned bathroom at the kitchen sink, quickly but carefully rinsing the silverware that had been on the floor an hour ago. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Jesper said, setting down his small bedroom trash can beside the larger on in the kitchen.  His voice startled Wylan, who jumped and dropped the fork in his hand.  His blue eyes were wide when he turned, but his gaze softened when it landed on Jesper.

“I know,” Wylan answered, drying his hands on the borrowed pair of blue jeans hanging off his hips.  “I just wanted to help.  I’m sorry, by the way.  About your apartment…and Kaz.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jesper answered, waving a dismissive hand.  He glanced around the still scattered floor and asked, “Do you want help in here?”

“Nah,” Wylan shrugged.  His eyes brightened as an idea came to him, though, and he eagerly offered, “If you take the living room, we’ll be done faster.”

Jesper shook off the desire to stride across the kitchen and kiss him.  “Good idea, little prince.”

They split ways, and within the next hour, the apartment was somewhat back to normal.  Jesper and Wylan found themselves seated on the damaged-but-salvageable couch when they were finished, but neither of them spoke for a long while.  Instead, they simply stared at the wall or the ceiling or the shattered screen of the TV.  Loud music still spilled from Jesper’s bedroom, though by the time it found them in the living room, it was soft and mostly muted.

It was Wylan who finally broke the silence that lingered uncomfortably between them.

“For the record, I believe you.”

With a sigh, Jesper closed his eyes tight.  They were words that Jesper was desperate to hear, but for some reason, he didn’t feel much better.

“That makes one person,” Jesper managed.

Quietly, Wylan offered, “Maybe Kaz will come around soon?” 

“I doubt it,” Jesper answered honestly.  “He’s known me for too long.  This falls right into my usual pattern, and until we can find whoever actually did this, Kaz is going to think whatever he’d like.”

Wylan shifted then, turning sideways to face Jesper.  Though, Jesper stayed completely still, his eyes closed and his head tilted against the back of the couch.  He didn’t know if he was ready to face Wylan’s innocent stare just yet. 

“Kaz didn’t see you the other night,” Wylan accused.  “You walked away from a table and $1,500.  That’s not nothing.”

Jesper scoffed softly.  “Yeah, because of you, little prince.”

“No, all I did was offer you an out,” Wylan argued, and Jesper didn’t even need to open his eyes to see the frustrated expression on Wylan’s face.  “You could have easily told me no, but you didn’t.  You chose to walk away from that.”

“You paint me in some really pretty colors.”

“Someone has to.” Wylan’s voice was softer now, his irritation sloughing off of him as quickly as it had piled on.  “If Kaz doesn’t want to believe in you, then that’s fine.  But I do.”

Slowly, Jesper’s eyes opened, and he twisted his head just far enough to take in Wylan’s face.  Though, he regretted it almost instantly when he found Wylan’s face bent close to his own, his blue eyes stern and wide, his pink lips turned downward into a pouted frown. 

“I wish I’d never made you that promise,” Jesper admitted.

“What promise?” Wylan asked, his head tipping to the side curiously.

“Just one kiss,” Jesper repeated the words that had been bouncing around in his mind since he’d first said them.  He nearly laughed at the absurdity of the words now.  He’d promised Wylan that he’d drop it after one, after they’d gotten the tension out and could move on.  Moments like these, though, where Wylan was too genuine, too soft, too close, made Jesper question why the hell he’d ever made such a stupid promise to begin with. 

Beside him, Wylan shifted hesitantly in his seat.  “Why?  Do you regret it?”

“The kiss or the promise?” Jesper asked, following the movement of Wylan’s lip slipping between his own teeth nervously.

“Either.”

“The kiss – no,” Jesper answered, dragging his eyes away from Wylan’s lips with no small amount of grief.  “For Saint’s sake, my apartment was just trashed, the only person in Ketterdam that I’m actively trying not to disappoint thinks I’m lying to him, and yet all I can think about is kissing you until that frown disappears.”

Wylan’s eyes grew impossibly wider.  Jesper knew that he was being uncharacteristically forward.  Usually, his flirtations were veiled under taunts and teases, but he was far too tired for that today.  Honesty poured out of him, even as Wylan seemed to fidget under the truth. 

“The promise, though…that I regret,” Jesper continued, watching Wylan’s eyebrows disappear beneath his hair.  “I should have known that just one kiss would have been enough from you.  I was an idiot to think otherwise.”

“Oh…” Wylan answered quietly, his eyes desperately searching for somewhere to land that wasn’t Jesper’s face. Jesper, in turn, turned his face toward the ceiling again.

On any other day, Jesper would have worried that he’d overstepped.  After all, neither of them had so much as spoken about the kiss since it had happened.  Jesper had even been careful to keep his usual flirting tampered down a bit – though, it was impossible to hold it back completely.  In fact, during their hours spent prepping Wylan to attend the fundraiser under a false name, Jesper had thought the tension between them was building, reaching a tipping point, but then the chaos of the fundraiser happened and, now, Wylan’s uncertainty over Jesper’s words was painting a very different picture than the one Jesper had been hoping for.

He wouldn’t push.  This entire night had left him feeling raw in a way he wasn’t used to, and he’d put enough of himself on the line already.  So, he stayed still, letting Wylan sort through his own feelings on the other side of the couch while he stared up at the white ceiling above him.

However, a few moments later, his view was blocked by the sight of Wylan’s face above him.  His cheeks were blazing warm and pink as he settled himself slowly, cautiously into Jesper’s lap.  Unsure, his fingers fluttered over him for a moment before finally landing on Jesper’s chest to steady himself.

Jesper didn’t dare breathe, worried that making even the smallest of sounds might break the spell that was settling over them.  His own hands were, for once, uncertain as they came to rest lightly on Wylan’s thighs.  However, his grip tightened when Wylan released a shaky, relieved breath as his eyes dipped to Jesper’s lips. 

“Break your promise,” Wylan whispered, as if he, too, worried that words would ruin this.  His full weight came to rest on the tops of Jesper’s thighs.  He leaned forward, not far enough for their lips to touch just yet, but far enough that every breath that left him brushed against Jesper’s skin and had him fighting off a shiver.  “Break it tonight, tomorrow, the next day.  Just…break it.”

Wylan had barely finished speaking before Jesper surged forward, the last syllable of his request swallowed down by eager lips and hungry tongues.  Jesper’s hands weren’t satisfied where they sat, so he shifted them around to Wylan’s back, tugging him closer.  The movement dragged their hips together, pulling breathy exhales out of both of them.  Those sounds alone were all the encouragement either of them needed, and in the next instant, hunger turned to greed. 

Fingers tugged on fabric, slid beneath it, and squeezed when met with warm expanses of skin.  Tongues explored dexterously, teeth bit, lips apologized.  Too quickly, Jesper felt what little was left of his composure slipping.  His heart was hammering so loudly in his chest that it nearly drowned out the quiet noises leaving Wylan’s lips, and every inch of Jesper’s mind and body was begging for more, more, more.

“Wy-” Jesper managed when he pulled away for air, but Wylan’s lips instantly fell to his throat and whited out the remainder of his sentence.  With a quiet groan and all of the control that Jesper could muster, he caught Wylan by the chin and forced him to tip back far enough to meet Jesper’s gaze. 

Jesper knew it was a mistake the moment he was met with Wylan’s blown pupils and red, glistening lips. He was breathing just as hard as Jesper, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, and his fingers were balled into fists in the front of Jesper’s t-shirt in an act of self-restraint.

A worried divot appeared between his eyebrows as Wylan asked, “What’s wrong?”

The question was so absurd that Jesper’s exhale was nearly a laugh of disbelief.  “Absolutely nothing is wrong.”

A new, frustrated pout appeared on Wylan’s face. “Then why did we stop?”

“Because the problem, little prince, is that if we go any further, I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Wylan blinked slowly. “Do you want to stop?”

“No, but-”

“So…” Wylan began, flattening his hands and trailing them down Jesper’s torso.  “If you don’t want to stop and I don’t want to stop, then why did we?”

Fighting for control of his wandering mind, Jesper replied weakly, “You seemed hesitant about just a kiss the other night, I don’t know if this-”

“Jes,” Wylan interrupted, bringing his hands up to cup Jesper’s face between them.  His eyes dipped to Jesper’s lips almost instinctively.  “I want this.”  Slowly, his heated gaze slid back up to Jesper’s eyes.  “I want you.”

For a moment, Jesper saw that same desperation in Wylan’s eyes that he’d noticed the first day they’d met.  And, once again, Jesper was helpless to do anything but give in.  In that moment, he knew that he’d be willing to do whatever it took to erase that look from Wylan’s eyes, to give him whatever he needed, to let him take, and take, and take. 

Jesper didn’t bother with words.  Instead, with his gaze still locked with Wylan’s, he nodded.  When they leaned toward one another again, it was like all of the urgency had been squeezed out of them and replaced with the slow building burn of desire.  Their hands no longer scrambled for purchase, but moved purposefully, touching where they so desperately wanted. Their bodies moved together easily, effortlessly, with a patience that said they knew they’d get whatever they needed soon. 

Their position on the couch, though, was slowly becoming a hindrance.  Carefully, Jesper shifted his weight, managed to slip his arms underneath Wylan, and stood in one fluid motion.  The movement made Wylan gasp, but his legs latched around Jesper’s waist without a hint of complaint.  However, they’d only made it a couple of steps toward the hallway when Wylan suddenly pulled his lips away, wiggling slightly.

Misunderstanding his motive, Jesper moved to sit Wylan down, but Wylan only squeezed his legs tighter, demanding to stay exactly where he was.  Urgently, one of his hands wiggled between them to tug his phone free from his pocket.  He tossed it unceremoniously onto the couch, where it then bounced to the floor, but he didn’t seem the least bit bothered as he turned his full attention back to Jesper, carding careful fingers through his hair. 

With a soft gesture toward the open bedroom door, Wylan breathed, “Take me.”

Jesper, as usual, didn’t need to be told twice, and as he carefully moved them both down the hallway, he drank down every soft, tender kiss that Wylan had to offer until he was utterly intoxicated on them. 

Chapter Text

“I won’t ask if you’re okay.”

Kaz hadn’t intended for his words to come across as harshly as they sounded in the echo of his tiny bathroom, but he was tense from the day’s events and his argument with Jesper.  So, when his voice came out all gravel and frustration, Inej paused what she was doing. 

She stood before his mirror in his bathroom holding one of his washcloths in her hand as she dabbed at the dried blood along her hairline.  Then, she met his gaze in the mirror, studied his form behind her leaning against the doorframe, and offered him a quiet nod.

“Good,” she answered simply, turning her attention back to the task at hand.

Kaz let the conversation die there, though it wasn’t truly much of a conversation at all.  None of their conversations ever really were.  At best, they handed control back and forth like a baton, a question here, an answer there, an avoidance stuck somewhere in the middle that they both side stepped with ease.

In the mirror, Inej seemed to be holding her composure well enough now.  She didn’t seem at risk of falling over again, but she leaned heavily against the counter as if she didn’t trust her legs alone to keep upright. Thin, gentle fingers poked at the sliced skin across her temple, but she didn’t dare wince. 

Judging from the look at it that Kaz had gotten in the car, it wouldn’t need stitches.  Seeing as how head wounds tended to be a bit dramatic about blood, though, she’d likely need to keep it bandaged for the next few hours. He didn’t bother saying this aloud, though, for she was already reaching for the borrowed box filled with bandages without his assistance.

If she felt any pain at all, it only presented itself in the tight press of her lips.  More shocking than her lack of discomfort, though, was the fact that she had yet to tell Kaz to leave.  She’d only been taking up space in his apartment for two days, and she’d never told him to go away in as many words, but Kaz had learned to pick up on the clues telling him that it was time to retreat. 

He was seeing none of them now.  So, as she began to unravel the spool of bandaging, Kaz cleared his throat and risked speaking once more. 

“Heleen van Houden,” he started, not able to miss the way her fingers fumbled at the mere sound of her name.  “She’s the person you want dead as part of our deal.”

“Yes,” Inej answered, carefully cutting off squares of the bandage into a short stack.  She avoided looking up at the mirror as she asked, “Will that be a problem?”

“She’s a big name in Ketterdam,” Kaz answered honestly.  If he knew anything about her at all, it was that she’d never appreciate the mincing of words for the sake of her contentment. “It’ll be a challenge to make her disappear without anyone asking questions.”

“She’s a big name because she sells little girls to the other big names in this city,” Inej spat, dropping the scissors onto the counter.  Carefully, she braced both hands on the edge of the counter and looked forward, her caramel eyes swimming with scorn and disdain as she met his stare in the reflection.  “Can you do it or not?”

Kaz took a moment to study her, pretending that he needed to think.  Inej was all sharp lines and cutting edges, but that wasn’t all.  Beneath the sharp lines were threads pulled so taut they threatened to snap.  Beneath the cutting edges were dulled blades that she spend day in and day out sharpening, readying.

It had been intriguing to him at first, trying to figure out the puzzle of what had turned a girl like her into one of Ketterdam’s most feared residents.  He knew, now, not with any sort of detail, but enough to understand that she would do whatever it took to rid this city of the woman that had turned her into a monster.

“Would you rather take her life yourself?”

It was a genuine question, one that Kaz would have eagerly answered yes to.  Inej, though, gave her head a stern shake.  “I’ve tried. My conscience gets in the way.  That doesn’t change the fact that she needs to die, and someone who doesn’t care quite as much about silly things like morals has to be the one to do it.”

Kaz lifted a brow at the mirror. “You think I’m without morals?”

“No,” she answered quickly, expecting the challenge. “I said that you don’t care about those morals.  There’s a difference.”

“Do you think so?”

Her eyes narrowed at her reflection. “Do you?”

Thoughtfully, Kaz ran his tongue along his teeth, considering her question.  For some reason, pondering this thought made him itch for a cigarette, but he’d left his pack in the kitchen.  Leaving to get them meant leaving Inej alone in the bathroom, so he stayed put. 

In lieu of answering her question, though, he made her an offer.  “You can ask me for a truth.”

“A truth?” she asked, finally dropping her gaze and returning to her work. 

“I learned the truth about Heleen,” he explained, crossing his arms over his chest.  “In an effort to keep our little game fair, it’s only right that you get to learn something about me in return.”

For a while, Inej was quiet, thinking.  By the time she’d found her question, she was finished bandaging her wound and had begun to return the supplies to the box they’d borrowed from Nina several days prior. 

When she spoke again, her voice was soft, quiet, not nearly the blade that Kaz was used to hearing come from her lips. “Why did you tell Hellen to stop?”

Kaz nearly scoffed. “That’s what you’re using your free secret for?”

She shrugged. “I want to know.”

“Fine,” Kaz answered with a heavy sigh. He hesitated, just long enough to choose his words carefully, and answered, “You work for me, now, and I protect what’s mine.”

“But I’m not yours,” she argued, slamming the box closed a bit harder than necessary.  “Our entire deal is temporary, always has been.”

“If Heleen had taken you away, I wouldn’t have had your help taking down Haskell.”

“She’s right, though,” Inej said, tapping her fingers along the counter.  “I’m still under contract with her.  I ran out on it, and I left the other girls to pick up my slack.  If you’re such a businessman, shouldn’t you support me going back to her and finishing out my contract?”

“Please never confuse me with a businessman again,” Kaz answered.  “I am, for all intents and purposes, selfish by nature.  I sent Heleen away because I need your help with this job.  Don’t confuse what happened today with kindness or pity, because it’s neither.”

“Fair enough,” she muttered, sounding more resigned than angry with his response.  Then, she turned, leaning her back against the counter as she crossed her own arms over her chest, mimicking Kaz’s stance.  “There’s something else I want to ask you, but this isn’t part of our deal.  You’re free to ignore the question and walk away if you don’t want to answer.”

Kaz met her stare, but could read nothing from her eyes.  This was against the rules of their game, they both knew it, but Kaz’s curiosity got the best of him.  So, he instructed, “Go on.”

“Who is Jordie?”

Ice spilled into Kaz’s veins, turning his entire body to stone.  For a moment, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.  Then, finally, though ground teeth he asked, “Where did you hear that name?”

“Whenever I get a job, I always look into my client just a bit.  Collateral in case they don’t pay up,” Inej began explaining, and Kaz’s fingernails began to dig crescents into his biceps.  “Your record is pretty on par for a Barrel rat, but there was something strange.  When you arrived in Ketterdam twelve years ago on a cargo ship, there is also a record showing that a boy named Jordie was traveling with you.  However, while there are loads of records for you from that point forward, there is nothing about this other boy.  I thought that maybe once I met your crew, he’d be among them, but…”

It was strange to hear Jordie’s name spoken so calmly without the constant turmoil that tended to accompany that name inside Kaz’s head.  Inej seemed only curious, not nefarious, but be that as it may, Kaz still found himself shrinking at the mention. 

“I think that’s a story for another night,” Kaz lied, his voice dark and tense.  To her credit, Inej didn’t seem the least bit offended by his answer.  In fact, she merely nodded, though her eyes lingered on his for a moment too long.  Eager for the conversation to end, Kaz pushed away from the doorframe and cleared his throat. “Are you done in here? I need to shower.”

“Um, yeah,” Inej mumbled, turning once to confirm that she’d cleaned up her mess. Seeing that she had, she headed to the door.

As she approached, Kaz turned, allowing enough space for her to slip past.  However, when she had one foot across the threshold, she paused.  Then, ever so slowly, she turned to face Kaz, her face displaying every bit of her discomfort. 

“Thank you,” she muttered so quietly he could barely hear her.  Her eyes didn’t dare trail up to his, instead locked on a point on the wall just above Kaz’s shoulder.  “For today.  For Heleen.”

Kaz shifted his weight, uncomfortable in his own right. “I told you, it was-”

“A selfish act, I know,” she cut in.  She risked letting her eyes slide the few inches up and over to meet his gaze.  “Thank you anyway.”

Unsure what he was supposed to say to that, Kaz nodded.  Before the conversation could take itself anywhere else, Inej turned once more and disappeared down the hallway.  Several soundless seconds later, the door to his bedroom clicked shut, and there came a soft thud as the lock was clicked into place.  Kaz waited a few moments for the tell-tale sound of his dresser being shoved in front of the bedroom door, as he’d heard the two nights before.  However, it never came, and instead Kaz was left with nothing but silence as he shut the bathroom door.  He wished, however futilely, that a scalding shower would wash away the night, but even as he cranked the shower on high, he knew that wouldn’t be the case, especially now with the memory of Jordie crawling across his skin. 

Chapter Text

Ketterdam was, for once, quiet.  Though, Nina couldn’t tell if that statement was reality or if she simply couldn’t make out any noise above the hammering of her heart in her chest. 

Following several unanswered knocks, Nina had managed to convince the bristly elderly woman at the front desk of Matthias’s motel that she needed a key to get inside his room.  It hadn’t been an easy persuasion, after all this was Ketterdam and the risk of Nina’s request being the precursor to any number of crimes was no small thing, but Nina’s reputation around the city and her association with Brekker managed to lean the odds in her favor.  

Now, though, with the door to his motel room cracked, Nina found herself faltering.  This moment could really only go one of two ways.  Option 1, Matthias was inside the apartment and was purposefully ignoring her, and her intrusion would only make the rift between them grow ten feet wider and make her headache remarkably worse.  Option 2, which was somehow the least appealing, Matthias would be gone.  In a city with as many nooks and crannies as this one, it would be easy for a man like Matthias to get lost, swindled, or worse.  Especially knowing how he’d left the fundraiser, how his nerves were likely shot, how he’d let his rage get the better of him and crack off a comment to the wrong Ketterdam criminal. 

A shaky sigh fell from Nina’s lips in anticipation.  Slowly, she pushed open the door to his motel room, which began to reveal … nothing.  The queen sized bed sat along the left wall was neatly made, his suitcase closed and tucked tidily beneath the sorry excuse for a desk, the lights off spare a small table lamp that left more shadows than light. The only sound was the low but constant whirring of the air conditioner in the window, pumping in too-cool air that left goosebumps rising on Nina’s arms. 

With cautious steps, Nina made her way inside the room.  Perhaps Matthias had left some remnant of a clue as to where he’d run off to in a situation like this.  Or, perhaps, Nina wished to feel his presence for a moment without the stinging slash of his words or the scrape of his icy eyes over her face. 

The silence in the room was, however, temporary.  Because as the door shut behind her, Nina heard a voice, low and slurred, murmur, “Nina?”

Her name was less a question and more a prayer – quiet, hopeful, hesitant.

A few more steps into the room revealed the tousled tuft of blonde hair just barely poking over the edge of the bed.  He’d been too heavily cloaked in shadows before, and her eyes were too ill adjusted to notice him.  However, as Nina’s vision came back to her in full and she stepped around to the opposite side of the bed, she found herself face to face with Matthias Helvar. 

Correction – she found herself face to face with a very drunk Matthias Helvar. Which, if Nina were being honest with herself, was a third, equally unsettling, option to find within this motel room. 

“Matthias,” she answered, less a prayer and more a lamentation. 

His head, leaned back against the bed, turned lazily to her, and he blinked slowly, as if registering that she was real.  While he studied her, Nina studied the bottle resting beneath his right hand.  It was new, that much was evident by the brown paper bag tossed haphazardly onto the floor a few inches away from him.  However, when his hand shifted slightly, the brown liquid sloshed within the now half empty glass container. Though, she supposed, that explained the inability to come and answer the door.

Finally, after a long stretch of silence, Matthias announced, “Brum’s in Ketterdam.”

The words were strung together unceremoniously, the space between them blurred by the alcohol, but the ache in his eyes was so sobering that Nina found herself looking away. 

“I know,” she admitted, sitting her bag and recently procured motel keycard on the edge of the bed.  “Wylan told me you ran out during the fundraiser.  I’m afraid that means you missed all the fun.”

One of his brows ticked up.  “What fun?”

“Oh, you know.  A bomb here, a bomb there, questionable building stability, and a mass evacuation.  A typical night out for us, I’d say.”

Nina said the words in an attempt to lighten the mood, but Matthias’s expression remained somber.  “Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah, everybody is fine.  Wylan and I got stuck in the crowd for a bit, but we made our way out.  Jes and Kaz are right as rain, but The Wraith knocked herself in the head pretty good.  She’s at the apartments recovering, I suppose.”

“And Brum?”

Any lightness Nina had attempted to bring to the room died away in an instant, leaving nothing but cold air and an ironically sobering silence between them.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, and Matthias swallowed hard. “I was distracted.  Wylan was with me, and I needed to get us both out of there and meet up with the others. I didn’t think to look for him.”

The liquid in his bottle sloshed softly as he shifted his wrist.  “So he might be injured?  Dead?”

“We aren’t nearly lucky enough to get rid of him that easily,” Nina remarked, almost instinctively. 

Before she could correct herself, the low, soft, rumbling sound of Matthias’s laughter began to fill the room.  It was a sound that stopped Nina in her tracks, filled her veins with ice, and left her shoving away unwanted memories. 

“It’s ridiculous,” Matthias spoke, his distaste thick over his words.  “After all the lies, I still hope he’s alright.”

“That isn’t ridiculous,” Nina assured, finding her feet leading her a few cautious steps toward him.  “He raised you-”

“No, he didn’t,” he snapped.  “I was raised by…by harsh rules, by maids and cooks with hearts softened by pity, by a landscape that didn’t allow for faltering.  Brum just happened to be a fixture in all of that, a hand that reached out, and yet…”

Matthias’s voice faded.  Carefully, Nina cleared her throat. “Surely it wasn’t all bad.”

With a disgusted scoff, Matthias replied, “Since I’ve arrived here, I’ve had the time to tally up some of the lies.  Brum vowed to never step foot in Ketterdam again, and yet there he was tonight, in his element, confident and calm.  He swore he had nothing to do with this godforsaken city, but at every turn his name pops up again and again and again.”

Matthias paused yet again and took a long draught from the bottle in his hand.  As it fell to the ground with a thud, he continued to speak, though his attention was locked on the wall across from him. 

“Brum promises, and Brum lies, and I fall for it every time.”  His voice was a delicate thing, tattered at the edges and in desperate need of a careful hand.  “His worst sin of all though was taking me away from here… from you.”

Nina ground her teeth.  “It was your choice to leave, Matthias.  I gave you an out, and you didn’t take it.”

“You have to understand, Nina,” Matthias insisted, his gaze still focused away from her.  “That when your entire life is ice, warmth feels like a burning flame.”

“So that’s what all of this is about?” she asked, her arms crossing over her chest. “I was too warm for you?”

“It felt like it at first,” he mumbled, tipping his head back against the edge of the bed and letting his icy eyes slip closed. “Too warm, too hot, threatening to melt away all of the edges I’d carved into myself to fit into my place in Brum’s puzzle.  But once I’d thawed…once the edges were smoothed and the chill subsided…you were a warm summer sun, Nina, and all I wanted was to bask in you.”

Against her wishes, hot tears prickled in the corners of Nina’s eyes. “You still left.”

“I did,” he answered somberly.  “Brum returned to the city.  He built up those icy walls once more, solidified them, beat against them over and over until he was sure they’d hold this time.  So, when you offered me a place in the city, I…couldn’t.  Not because I didn’t want to, but because with the chill of Brum beside me, I couldn’t…”

“Couldn’t what?”

His eyes slid open again, landing on Nina with a weight nearly impossible to bear. “I couldn’t feel the sun anymore.”

“That isn’t an excuse,” Nina argued, taking an involuntary step back from him.  She knew it was the alcohol talking to her now, but his words were sending her headfirst into an argument they’d never truly had. “You were cruel.  It hurt for months.  It still hurts, and you can’t erase all of that with pretty words and forced pity.”

“I know,” he nodded, his gaze unshifting. Then, “I tried to call you. After all of it. After I was home.”

Nina shook her head, a sudden, violent movement.  “I blocked your number after the first ring.”

Genuine pain flashed across his features. “Why?”

“Because talking to you would hurt too much,” Nina admitted, her voice stretched thin.  “And…if I didn’t remove you from my life completely, then some idiotic part of me would think that maybe, someday, you’d change your mind.  And that, Matthias…that would be unbearable.”

Slowly, Matthias nodded.  He took another drink, let the bottle connect with the thin carpeted floors yet again, and asked, “Do you still believe in fate?”

The snort Nina let out was nearly a laugh.  “What? That we’re not quite finished with each other yet?”

Matthias nodded, the epitome of solemnity.

“What’s left of us, Matthias?” Nina asked, the anger in her voice giving away to something much darker.  “We’ve already torn one another apart.”

Her words stuck, that much was clear.  Matthias’s light brows tugged together, turning his young face into something ancient and perplexed. 

“Maybe there’s something we have yet to see,” he replied, though his voice was uncertain.  Then, with a deep breath, he smoothed out his features and offered, “I’m sorry.”

Nina’s jaw clenched in an instant.  “Don’t.”

“I am,” he insisted.  “I’m sorry for what I-”

“I don’t want your apology,” she spat. He was drunk, she reminded herself.  These words were meaningless, hollow things, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t crawl inside her head and twist up all of her thoughts.

“But you deserve one.”

“Oh, now we’re so bothered by what I deserve?”

Matthias tipped his chin in disapproval.  “Nina.”

“Your apologies are worthless, Matthias,” she cut off his warning.  “Your words are all temporary. You mean them until you don’t anymore.”

“I mean these.”

“Just like you meant it when you said you loved me?”

And there it was: the pendulum.  It swung left, then right, inches from either of their faces, threatening to slice whatever parts of them remained intact until they were nothing but bits and pieces of themselves.

And, just like that, the words Nina had ached to say since he’d walked out of her life were spewed out in front of her.  As her chest heaved with the effort of saying them aloud, Matthias watched her with that icy stare.

Then, with movements far more sure and precise than she’d imagine possible for someone as deep in the bottle as he was, Matthias sat his drink down firmly, rose to his feet, and took several confident steps in Nina’s direction.  Pride forced her to stand her ground, strong and tall, but shame for having spoken the words out loud left her aching to cower away from his towering form.

“Yes,” Matthias breathed, and Nina could smell the whiskey on his breath now.  “I mean it the same way I meant those words.  Because whatever happened with us, no matter how bruised and beaten we both are by all of the pain that we – I – put us through, I did love you, Nina.  I still do.”

Nina’s face twisted as the tears in the corners of her eyes threatened to overflow.  Through ground teeth, she managed, “Stop it.”

“Nina, I-”

“No, Matthias, stop,” she insisted, voice watery.  “This isn’t fair.”

“What’s not fair about how I feel?”

“Because you left!” she shouted, her rage bubbling over in time with her tears.  Roughly, she shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge a single inch.  Still, Nina raged on. “You don’t get to walk away only to claim that you’ve loved me this whole time.  It’s mean, Matthias.  It’s really fucking mean.”

He shook his head. “I’m not trying to be-”

Nina laughed, a cruel and bitter sound. It was this sound that finally made him take a step back from her. “No, Matthias, I know, and that’s the worst part of it all.  You never mean to be cruel and you never mean to hurt me, but you do.  Over, and over, and over again.”

Her words broke at the end, cutting off in a rough sob that she just barely smothered underneath her hand.  Matthias looked away, his own shame rising in a flush from the collar of his shirt and up onto his cheeks. 

“You know,” Nina began again once she’d collected herself and her voice just barely trembled under the weight of her emotions.  “When you were gone, I hated you.  I hated you so much that I ached with it, that I could taste it.”

Matthias kept quiet for a few more moments, his gaze still carefully kept away from Nina’s face. 

“Do you hate me now?” he asked, his voice quiet, as if he wished she’d fail to hear him. 

She didn’t, though, and in an equally quiet tone, she answered, “I want to.”

“Why?”

“Because it would be easier if I could.”

Nina heard Matthias swallow heavily.  Then, in a whisper, he uttered, “Okay.”

The finality in that word was the final pendulum swing.  It landed directly in Nina’s chest, a slice that slid past skin and muscle and lanced through bone.  Nina tried to swallow past the tightness in her throat, and when she failed, she turned toward the door. 

She’d collected her purse and made it halfway to the door in a flurry of shaky movements before Matthias’s voice called out once more.

“Hate me.”

Nina’s feet faltered.  “What?”

“Hate me,” he repeated, and the ground creaked as he approached her. He moved slowly, giving her a chance to run away, but Nina found – unfortunately – that her legs were refusing to obey in this moment. 

“Matthias…” she warned, feeling him come to a stop a hairsbreadth behind her. 

“If that’s what you need,” he muttered, his voice rumbling through his chest – so near to Nina’s back that she could practically feel the vibrations of them.  “Then hate me.  Fight with me.  Scream at me. Hurt me how I hurt you. Whatever you need to feel tonight, Nina, feel it, but just feel it here…with me…please.”

“And what about tomorrow?” she whispered, fighting off a gasp as she felt his fingertips ghost across the skin of her upper arm.  “What about when the alcohol wears off and you remember that you despise me and all that I stand for?”

All it took was a gentle tug for Nina to turn, to face him, to meet his icy eyes with an unwavering stare of her own.  Saints, she’d missed that face and the softness that had once existed there only for her.

“Then tomorrow I will beg for your forgiveness again,” Matthias breathed, his voice low and reverent.  “Tomorrow, I will tell you that I’ve loved you every second since I’ve left, and I’ll tell you all of this again and again until my words are deemed trustworthy again.”

Nina’s eyes flickered across his face, searching for some sign of dishonesty.  Finding none, she muttered, “Staying is a bad idea.”

“We are both known for our bad ideas, Nina,” Matthias answered, the icy in his eyes melting the longer he watched her.  “Just…please don’t leave me alone tonight.  Please.”

And, despite the past, despite the lessons that history had taught her, Nina felt her purse slip from her shoulder and land on the floor with a dull thud.  It was easy after that to let herself fall headfirst into the comfort of the man she thought would forever be a memory.  It was easier still, as she melted into his arms and let the warmth encompass her, to forget why he’d ever been reduced to as much in the first place.

Chapter Text

Dim morning light - marred by the drizzling rain outside but still bright enough to shine directly into the corner of Wylan’s eye - stubbornly broke through the window of Jesper’s bedroom, forcing Wylan awake far earlier than both his mind and body were prepared for.  Squinting, Wylan sleepily maneuvered himself onto his other side, where he found himself suddenly face to face with the now oh-so-familiar sharp shooter. 

Jesper was thankfully undisturbed by Wylan’s movements, which allowed Wylan a precious moment to take in the Zemeni man beside him.  The previous night was a blur that ended in cool air and warm hands, hard kisses and soft touches, bitten lips and quiet sighs.  If he were telling the truth, which was a rare thing, Wylan couldn’t quite pinpoint what had come over him last night.  He’d wanted to keep his distance as much as he could, wanted to remind himself that all of this was temporary, that Jesper was not his to keep, and yet…

So much of Jesper was a surprise, a shock to Wylan’s system that had been numbed for so long he’d nearly forgotten that it could feel anything at all.  All his life he’d heard whispers of the Dregs, how brutal and cruel they were, how aggressive and violent, how uncivilized . 

Jesper was different.  Jesper was more than just a member of the Dregs.  In fact, all of Wylan’s new friends were.  

Kaz, known for his temper and his creative methods for getting his way, was simply cautious.  His trust was earned and well kept.  He protected what was his, and he sacrificed what wasn’t for the sake of keeping his people safe.  He never told a lie for the sake of pleasantries, and he didn’t mind whatever negative thoughts a stranger may have of him because of this honesty.  

The Wraith was a fright, that much was sure, but her eyes - half hidden by darkness and hoods pulled low - told stories. They were stories that Wylan didn’t wish to hear repeated, much less live himself, and they were stories that The Wraith kept close to her chest while she dropped everything in her own life to help Kaz and the others reach their goal.  She kept to herself, and she never sought out to harm another unless it was proven necessary to keep herself safe. 

Nina was … well, she was Nina.  Wylan wasn’t so much as frightened by her as he felt a healthy dose of respect.  What she lacked in a violent edge she made up for with a clever tongue and a fiery spirit.  That same respect could be dished out to Matthias, though he was even less of a Dreg than Wylan was.  

Then there was Jesper, the man who had dropped everything to drag Wylan’s limp body up several flights of stairs in the middle of the night despite being strangers.  On paper, he was dreadful.  Wylan didn’t know the full extent, but he was sure Jesper’s rap sheet must have been miles long, starting with gambling and ending with murder.  And yet, despite those things, he was gentle.  His laugh was wild and free, his voice a low, comforting rumble in the middle of a quiet night, his touch a gentle caress over soft skin.  

It was then, morning light spilling over Jesper’s darkened, freckled skin, that Wylan realized with a squeeze to his heart that he had never felt more at home than he did here.  With Jesper, with The Dregs.  For the first time, Wylan felt protected, appreciated, wanted .  

And all he’d done was lie to them.  

Wylan’s teeth ground together with a quiet determination.  This has to be over , he told himself resolutely.  By the time that Jesper woke, Wylan would be ready to tell him the truth.  All of it - even if it meant that Wylan may very well find himself back on the street at the end of the day. 

As carefully as he could manage, Wylan unfolded himself from the bed.  The sheets had been kicked off of them both at some point during the night, which made it easier for Wylan to free himself and allowed him an unobstructed view at the smooth plains of Jesper’s back.  He allowed himself only a few moments to stare before he shook his head clear of distractions and tip toed out of the room.  

His cell phone still lay in the living room floor where it had been haphazardly discarded the night before.  The sight of it made his chest heavy with an odd mixture of fear and guilt, but he forced his feet to keep moving forward.  A quiet, settling exhale left his lips as he bent down to grab it.  

He’d only just unlocked the device and began searching for his father’s contact when he heard the quiet shuffling of boots from the hallway.  Immediately, Wylan assumed that it was Nina or Kaz returning from some late night venture, but then more footsteps joined, then more, then somehow even more.  

Dread settled into Wylan’s stomach.  Had Haskell’s men discovered who’d created the bombs? Who’d planned where to place them during the fundraiser?  Would they go for Kaz first, or straight to the source? 

With a gulp so loud that it was audible in the silence of Jesper’s apartment, Wylan stepped carefully up to the door.  As he leaned forward toward the peep hole, though, a deep voice shouted from the other side, “ Now!”  

The door flew open faster than Wylan could move, smacking into his face with enough momentum to send him stumbling backwards and crashing to the ground.  The warm spray of blood down his chin was all the evidence he needed to know that his nose had taken the brunt of the damage, though the pain had yet to catch up with him.  

A blur of black uniforms, heavy combat boots, and rifles stormed into Jepser’s apartment, each heading straight past Wylan down the narrow hall towards Jesper’s bedroom.  

Fear, it’s cold, death-like grip growing firm around Wylan’s throat, settled into place.  Disoriented from the fall, it took Wylan a few moments to get to his feet, and in the end the best he could manage was a clumsy half-crawl in the direction of Jesper’s bedroom as he shouted, “ Jesper!” 

Whatever progress he’d made towards the bedroom was halted when a heavy boot slammed into his back, forcing him back to the ground as the air in his lungs rushed out of him with a sudden whoosh .  The warning on his lips was choked out of him, turning into a garbled sound.  It was futile anyway.  The line of armored bodies crashed into the bedroom, and from this vantage point Wylan could only make out the silhouette of Jesper’s lanky limbs putting up a surprised fight as he was jerked, half-asleep, from his bed.  

“Name!” the man attached to the boot on Wylan’s back shouted, but his demand was drowned out by the flurry of shouts and grunts from the bedroom.  Some, too many, were easily identifiable as Jesper’s familiar tone.  

“Wy!” Jesper’s voice screamed wildly from the bedroom, followed immediately by the tell-tale sound of a fist meeting flesh.  

“Jes,” Wylan wheezed desperately.  His limbs scrambled, urgently trying to free himself from the boot pressed against his back. He needed to get up.  He needed to go to Jesper. He needed to go find Kaz.  He needed- 

The cool press of a barrel against the back of his skull made Wylan’s desperate movements halt immediately.  The boot on his back shifted, making a pathetic, breathy sound slip out of Wylan’s lip as the man demanded in a near growl, “ Name!”  

“Wylan,” he choked out, his heart pounding in his ears.  “Wylan Van Eck.” 

All at once, the pressure against Wylan’s back disappeared, as did the weapon, and all at once, Wylan Van Eck squeezed his eyes shut as realization setted over him.  

No , he begged silently, hearing the shuffle of feet in the distance.  Tears beaded across his lashes as he repeated, no, no, no.  

“Wylan!” Jesper’s voice shouted, closer now.  The relief in his voice hammered a crack in Wylan’s heart.  

Wylan’s eyes opened again, and he found Jesper being dragged toward his apartment door by two black-clad officers - Wylan knew now that’s what these men were.  He still wore only his boxers, but the skin along his eyebrow and lower lip were now split, spilling red down the side of his face and onto his bare chest.  The shiner on one of the officer’s eyes and the pronounced limp on another said that Jesper had put up a valiant fight, but had lost in the end.  

Without a foot on his back, Wylan carefully shoved himself to his feet as Jesper was past him.  The Zemeni man’s eyes darkened at the sight of the blood sprayed down Wylan’s chin, and he tugged at his captors as he demanded, “They hurt you?” 

Wylan tried to speak, but his voice croaked in his throat.  Again, Jesper fought against his captors, violently attempting to free himself and come to Wylan.  The action made Wylan’s throat tighten.  

The officers had him at the door now, and Wylan watched as Jesper twisted his head over his shoulder, desperate to keep his eyes on Wylan.  “Whatever this is about, he’s not a part of it.  If you touch him again, I’ll-” 

“Now is not the best time for threats,” a new voice, deep and frustratingly calm in the wake of this chaos, spoke.  In the hall, a heavyset man in a suit had arrived, standing shoulder to shoulder with several of the armored officers.  

Jesper was brought closer to him, and Wylan found his feet following against his will.  In the hall, Wylan found that Kaz, too, had left his apartment, standing in the shadowed hallway looking surprisingly sleep ruffled and angry.  

“Jesper Fahey,” the man in a suit announced, and something about the joy in his voice made Wylan feel sick. Metal clinked in the quiet hallway as an officer placed thin cuffs around Jesper’s wrists.  “You are under arrest for the murder of Tim Heron.” 

“What?” Jesper demanded, his voice breathy.  

“Don’t speak,” Kaz spat instantly.  Jesper’s head snapped towards his friend, who offered him only a single, solemn nod.  “Not a word.  My lawyer will be at the station within an hour.” 

Suddenly, there was another side of Jesper standing before Wylan.  For the first time, he looked scared.  Not worried, like he’d looked after their first mission together, but frightened, like a little boy lost in a sea of strangers. His eyes slid away from Kaz and landed on Wylan, and he didn’t need to speak for Wylan to understand what that look meant.  

I didn’t do it, it screamed. Believe me, please . 

New tears, so hot they burned the skin around Wylan’s eyes, welled over and spilled down Wylan’s cheeks.  The officers spoke quietly to one another for a few moments, and then they turned and headed down the stairs.  They took Jesper down last, his hands curled into fists behind his back, and as he disappeared from view, Wylan bent forward and finally lost the contents of his stomach.  The claws of guilt gripped at his gut, twisting and squeezing until Wylan could do nothing but gasp and choke on air. 

When he’d finally pulled himself together enough to stand and shakily wipe his mouth with the hem of his t-shirt, he turned.  Kaz still stood in the doorway to his apartment, his expression unimpressed and unbothered.  

“We need to make a plan,” he said simply, his gravelly voice scraping against the pounding headache that had formed quickly in Wylan’s skull.  Kaz’s eyes strayed to the floor for a moment before he turned into his own apartment. “Come over after you clean up.” 

And then he was gone, his apartment door shutting behind him, and Wylan found himself suddenly alone all over again. 

Chapter Text

A heavy paper bag was dropped onto the metal table across from Jesper, the scent of salt and grease filling the small interrogation room.  Jesper’s mouth began to involuntarily water, and the officer who’d brought the offering raised an expectant eyebrow. 

“It’s yours,” he nodded towards the bag.  “All you have to do is just answer a few questions.” 

Jesper’s unerring stare and silence were met with a disappointed sigh, though Jesper wondered what he’d expected.  It had been the same trick on repeat since he’d been dragged into the building.  They could bring him a change of clothes if  he agreed to give them answers.   He could have the cup of coffee if  he’d just have a conversation with them.  They’d bring him pain meds for the pounding headache they assumed he had - they were correct - if he told them what happened last night.  

Through it all, Jesper had not uttered a single word, though his body had begun to ache with the desire to scream out his defenses.  That didn’t change the fact that Kaz had given him a final order, and Jesper refused to fail him again. 

With an irritated expression, the officer snatched the bag of food from the table and left, forcing a draft into the room as the door closed behind him.  It made Jesper shiver, which was unsurprising seeing as how he was still donning only his boxers and a pair of metal cuffs.  Which, under different circumstances might have been considered a very good start to his day, but seeing the situation as it was, he was beginning to grow quite miserable. Thankfully, Jesper was pretty confident in his body and found no issue with being paraded around the police station in only his underwear, but now, with the cold metal of the chair pressed against his bare skin, he was beginning to wish he’d taken the officers up on their initial offer for warm clothes. 

His leg bounced beneath the table with his nervous energy, his mind racing a mile a minute as he waited for an officer to return again.  None of this made sense. Sure, he and Tim had never had much love for one another, but he’d never kill the guy.  Hell, Jesper hadn’t even known he was dead until he’d been pulled half asleep from his bed only a few hours ago.  

That thought made him think of Wylan.  The sight of him this morning had been enough to make Jesper’s heart seize in his chest. He’d never seen the blue of Wylan’s eyes marred by such fear.  The vision of him, messy curls still tangled while tears spilled down his cheeks and blood stained his borrowed t-shirt, hadn’t left Jesper for more than a few moments at a time before returning with force. He needed the lawyer to get here, not to help his case, but just to get him a phone long enough to call and tell Wylan that he was alright, that he’d be home soon. 

The door to the interrogation room swung open again, but Jesper was disappointed to see yet another man walk into the room instead of his lawyer.  He looked different than the other officers who’d come in.  His suit was immaculately tailored, the threads far more expensive looking than any of the uniforms the other officers had worn.  His features were sharp and severe, and he met Jesper’s eyes with an icy blue stare. 

“I hear you’re not speaking,” the man stated, his voice the same monotone that politicians used.  As he took the chair opposite Jesper, a pin glimmered on his lapel.  A red flower, something that made recognition prickle in the back of Jesper’s mind, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint where he knew it from.  

When Jesper remained silent, the man let out a bitter chuckle.  “You’re rather obedient to your boss, aren’t you?  Though, I foolishly always assumed that Haskell was the leader of The Dregs, but he’s not the one telling you how high to jump, is he?” 

Something in those words made Jesper shift uncomfortably.  There was a familiarity to them, like this man knew Jesper, knew Kaz, knew the layers of the relationship that existed between the two of them.  Still, though, Jesper kept his lips sealed, not daring to risk a snarky remark.  

“I’m assuming you know why you’re here,” the man said, placing a manila folder on the table between them.  When it opened, an array of photographs spilled out.  “Tim Heron, the owner of the Mini Mart on Corks Street - I’m sure you’re familiar, was found deceased behind his shop early this morning.  Wouldn’t you know it, the weapon found at the scene was registered to one Jesper Fahey.” 

Jesper’s brow furrowed deeply at this.  However, the man’s attention was not on Jesper, but the pile of photographs.  His bony fingers sifted through the stack until he found what he was searching for, and he slid the small rectangular photo across the table.  It nearly slid off the edge, and Jesper’s handcuffs clinked together as his hands shot up to catch it.  

He recognized the worn pearl handled pistol easily enough.  Somehow, between the fundraiser and the crashed apartment and his fight with Kaz, Jesper had failed to realize that his mother’s gun had disappeared from beneath his mattress.  He’d been too distracted, too focused on defending himself against Kaz’s accusations, and now the weapon stared back at him from the photograph with a small yellow placard labeled 6 beside it on the ground.  

“It was your mother’s, right?” 

Jesper’s eyes shot up from the photo, narrowed in his suspicion.  He supposed someone could look up the serial number and see that the gun had once belonged to a different owner, and from there the dots might have been fairly easy to connect, but it still left Jesper feeling a bit shaken.  

“If you were speaking to me, I wager you’d tell me that this gun was stolen last night,” the man said, his tone far too calm.  He shifted through the photos again, pushing another rectangle Jesper’s way. This time, it was a grainy photo of Jesper outside of the fundraiser last night, his suit clean and tidy as he chatted with one of the investors waiting to enter. “I’m sure you’d also say that you have an airtight alibi for last night, and that when you got home, your apartment was trashed, and that must have been when the gun was taken, am I right?” 

Uneasiness was beginning to weave itself beneath Jesper’s skin.  Something was wrong.  Very wrong.  Jesper slid his eyes to the door, willing it to open and his lawyer walk in to rescue him from whatever the hell this was. 

“Then I’d have to say that all of that would be wonderful news if you and Tim didn’t have an extensive track record of animosity.”  A new photograph was laid out on top of the others, and Jesper’s heart sank.  It must have been taken from the surveillance cameras in Tim’s shop the night that he’d taken Wylan on his first test run for The Dregs.  He’d stood shoulder to shoulder with Wy on one side of the counter, and the gun in Jesper’s hands pointed directly at Tim’s chest was clear as day in the photo.  Luckily for Tim, the angle of the camera had blocked the sight of the gun in his own hands.  

Shit , Jesper thought. This looks bad .  

The man leaned back in his seat then, reaching for something inside his suit jacket.  “Finally, you’d do what all criminals do when their usual excuses run out.  You’d try an appeal of morals, swearing you would never, ever do something like this.  And then I’d have no choice left but to show you this.” 

From the inside pocket of his suit jacket, the man produced a slim gray cell phone.  He pressed a series of buttons, then placed the device in the center of the table as a smug grin began to tug at the corner of his lips. 

“Kaz was nearby at the time and heard the gunshots .” 

Jesper’s entire body went rigid at the sound of his own voice - distant and slightly muffled - spilled into the room.  

“By the time he found the source, I was the last one standing with a smoking gun in my hand and four bodies on the ground.” 

It was as if someone had poured ice water over his head as he heard Wylan reply, “ You killed people?” 

“I’m in a gang, Wylan,” Jesper’s own voice answered tersely, and then the man leaned forward to turn the recording off.  

All at once, Jesper recalled where he’d seen that red flower pin before - stamped on the letters The Wraith had pulled from Haskell’s desk.  None of this was making sense, and Jesper’s mind was a swarm of thoughts, each knocking into one another before he had time to fully process any of them.  

Was Brum working with the police?  And, if so, had he really gone to such lengths to bug the abandoned building across from the Slat the day that Jesper and Wylan had been assigned to a stake-out there? No, that couldn’t be right either, because how would this man know about Jesper’s mother’s gun? Matthias hadn’t stepped foot into Jesper’s apartment, there was no way that that information could have been conveyed purposefully or accidentally to Brum.  Besides, Matthias’s phone - the likely source of their intelligence breach - had been destroyed before the fundraiser, which begged the question of how did this man know about Jesper’s apartment being wrecked? 

His mind was still at war with himself when the man spoke again. 

“You know, when all of this started, I never actually expected it to be a success,” he explained, placing the phone back into his pocket.  “Wylan has never been a particularly bright boy, so I’d rather expected to find his body in a ditch long before now.  Who knew that the secret to infiltrating a Barrel gang was flirting with the first vagrant that crossed your path?” 

The world stilled, and Jesper’s mind fell into a sudden and total silence.  For several seconds, he couldn’t so much as breathe as he stared across the table in horror.  

For the first time since he’d arrived at the police station, Jesper spoke.  His voice was quiet in his devastation, barely more than an exhale, as he asked, “Wylan?” 

“Yes, I’m surprised he had it in him, too,” the man spoke with a laugh, and Jesper felt like he might break in half.  The man stood, beginning to collect the photographs and return them to the folder.  “Though, I must say, I could have done without listening to you ceaselessly flirt with my son for the last couple of weeks, but I suppose that, too, was a necessary evil.” 

All of the words that Jesper wanted to say were stuck in his throat, becoming so crowded that he nearly choked on them.  He was busy trying to remind himself how to breathe when the door to the interrogation room swung open, and Kaz’s lawyer barged into the room, her attitude already on full display. 

However, when she noticed the man standing at the table beside Jesper, she faltered.  

“Mr. Van Eck?” she asked, stepping carefully out of his way.  “What are you doing here?” 

He turned to her so casually, like he hadn’t just shaken up Jesper’s entire world, and answered, “We were just chatting.” 

The lawyer scoffed. “I’m sorry, I’m failing to see what reason the district attorney would have for chatting with my client without his lawyer present.” 

Jesper’s eyes widened at that, but the man simply held up his hand and said, “Don’t worry. He barely said a word.” 

“Good, because my client is done here.” 

The man nodded once, resolutely.  “Sure.  He’s free to go while we examine other suspects.  Just don’t leave the city.” 

The moment the door closed behind him, the lawyer turned to Jesper with a stern expression.  

“Did you say anything to him?” 

Jesper hadn’t realized how tightly his jaw was clenched until he had to force it open to speak.  “No.” 

“That’s a relief,” she said, setting a paper bag onto the table. Jesper had been so lost in his own mind that he hadn’t noticed it in her hand.  “Your friends sent you clothes.  Get dressed and we can go to my office to discuss our next steps.” 

Robotically, Jesper stood, unrolled the top of the bag, and began to tug on the sweats that waited for him inside.  

“I need to go home,” he said, his voice stretched tight even to his own ears.  

The lawyer gave him a sharp look.  “It’s really better to handle these types of things sooner  rather than later.” 

“There are more important things that I need to handle first,” Jesper said, swallowing down the anger that was beginning to rise in his throat.  

The lawyer picked up on the unusual mood that Jesper was in, and by the time he’d finished dressing, she gave in.  “Fine.  We will meet later this week.  I’ll text Kaz my availabilities.” 

“Fine,” Jesper agreed.  Together, they exited the police station, the lawyer turning right towards the parking lot and Jesper veering left down the sidewalk.  

Behind him, the lawyer called, “Need a ride?” 

“I’ll walk,” Jesper answered instantly, pulling his hood up over his head.  

“You don’t think Kaz would kill Matthias, do you?” 

The memory of Wylan’s voice, soft and almost trembling around the edges, played in Jesper’s head against his will. At the time, Jesper had assumed Wylan was merely overwhelmed by the intensity of The Dregs.  He’d thought Wylan was worried about Matthias’s well-being.  He’d never once thought that Wylan was concerned about himself. He’d never considered…

“What about you? .. Would you have killed Matthias?” 

The thought simmered in Jesper’s head, growing with each breath he took.  And, as he continued across the city with his head down and his hood pulled low, his devastation slowly morphed into a rage that dripped through his veins until his entire body was burning with it.  Then, finally, the apartment building came into view.