She’d been working for barely an hour when he appeared, sliding onto a barstool with the fluid grace of a predator claiming territory.
“Bourbon,” he said simply, his eyes scanning the room with the attention of someone constantly assessing threats. “The good stuff.”
Nadi poured him a glass of the club’s finest bourbon, noting the way he held himself—relaxed but ready, like a coiled spring waiting for the right moment to release. This close, she could see the small scars on his hands, evidence of violence that his expensive clothes couldn’t quite hide.
“Busy night,” she offered, the kind of small talk that bartenders were expected to make.
Braen’s attention focused on her for the first time, and she felt the weight of his scrutiny like a physical thing. “New,” he observed. It wasn’t a question.
“Started this week,” she replied, keeping her voice steady. “Still learning everyone’s preferences.” It was an apology for the small talk, without bending over and eating shit for it.
He studied her for a moment longer, then nodded slightly. “You’ll do fine. The key to working here is understanding that what you see and hear doesn’t leave this building. Ever.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Good.” He took a sip of his whiskey, and his attention returned to the room. “Trust is a valuable commodity in this business. Those who prove they can be trusted find themselves well-rewarded. Those who can’t…” He left the threat unfinished. It didn’t need to be.
Throughout the evening, Nadi watched as a steady stream of visitors approached Braen’s position at the bar. Some came to pay respects, others to report on various business ventures. But it was near closing time that the most interesting visitor appeared.
A woman Nadi didn’t recognize—vampire, by the pale perfection of her skin, but young-looking even by their standards. She carried herself with the certainty of someonethree times her size. She had close-cropped hair and wore a man’s suit tailored into sharp angles. Her fierce gaze immediately snapped from Braen to Nadi as the bartender, then dismissed her as anything interesting—then went right back to Braen.
“Braen,” the woman said, her voice tight with nervousness. “We need to talk.”
“Nabrisi, sister dear,” Braen replied. Another Rosov sibling. “How lovely to see you. What brings you to my establishment? You rarelyslum ithere with me.”
The family resemblance was clear once Nadi knew what to look for—the same dark hair, the same calculating eyes. But where Braen radiated barely controlled violence and Zabriel maintained his unsettling calm, Nabrisi seemed to carry herself with the careful precision of someone who understood she was surrounded by predators. Namely, because she was one too.
Something about her reminded Nadi of the fae berserkers. Battle warriors who would fight to the death to defend their people.
“It’s about the Nostrom situation.” Nabrisi glanced around the room before continuing. “The family wants to know if you’re serious about this…movement of yours.”
Braen’s expression darkened, his hands clenching slightly. “The family knows exactly how serious I am. The question is whether they’re finally ready to stop treating us like children who can’t be trusted with real power.”
“They’re not treating us like children. They’re treating us like potential casualties.” Nabrisi’s voice dropped even lower. “Do you have any idea what Raziel Nostrom is capable of? What he’s done to families that crossed them? You of all people should know why we?—”
“I know exactly what the Serpent has done.” Braen cut off his sister, his tone like ice. “And I knowquitewell what he is capable of. But he is not immortal. None of his family is.”
The conversation continued in whispers too low even for Nadi’s enhanced hearing to catch, but the body language told its own story. Nabrisi was standoffish and wary—not of the Nostroms, but of whatever her brothers were planning. When she finally left, her movements held the careful control of someone trying not to look like they were ready to smash something expensive.
As the night wound down and the last patrons filtered out, Nadi found herself alone with Braen for a few minutes while the security team conducted their closing procedures. He remained at the bar, nursing his bourbon and staring into the deep amber liquid as if it held answers to questions he wasn’t ready to voice.
“Tell me,” he said suddenly, still not looking at her, “what do you know about loyalty?”
The question seemed to come from nowhere, but Nadi sensed it was important. “I know it’s earned, not given.”
“Wise answer.” He finally looked up, and she saw something almost vulnerable in his expression—gone so quickly she might have imagined it. “Loyalty is the only currency that matters in this business. Money can be stolen, power can be lost, but loyalty…” He paused. “Loyalty is what determines whether you live or die when everything else falls apart.”
Before she could respond, Zabriel appeared from one of the back rooms. “Brother. We’re ready.”
“Good.” Braen finished his whiskey and stood. “Close up for me,” he told Nadi. “And remember what I said about trust.”
As the brothers disappeared into the back of the club, Nadi began the process of shutting down the bar while her mind raced with everything she’d learned. The Rosovs were planning something that involved the Nostroms. Braen was positioninghimself for some kind of power play that his own sister feared. And there was definitely something hidden in the basement level that she hadn’t been able to access.
But perhaps most importantly, she’d observed the dynamics between the siblings—the way Braen commanded respect while Zabriel provided council, the way Nabrisi seemed to playthe muscleof the organization but was reticent to jump into a fight she deemed unwise. And yet the fourth sibling, the other sister, Asha, had not made an appearance yet.
When she finally left the club in the early hours of the morning, Nadi felt the satisfaction of a job well done. She had the intelligence Raziel needed, and more importantly, she had a sense of the Rosovs as people rather than just targets.
Now came the harder part—figuring out how to use what she’d learned to bring them down. She’d gathered valuable intelligence about the family dynamics and their plans for the Nostrom wedding, but there was still that basement level she hadn’t been able to access. Whatever Braen was hiding down there, it was important enough to warrant the club’s heaviest security.
