Until now.
The larger man’s tight smile was more threatening than pleasant. “Ward was a good kingpin, you know. Harsh, perhaps, but sensible. He knew things were done a certain way for a reason. Durante, though? The boy’s a loose cannon. He’ll run this operation into the fucking ground.” The man flexed his bandaged hand with a grimace. “Not to mention nobody’ll take us seriously if they know he’s hiringwomen.”
Zaria straightened, abruptly more infuriated than afraid. “And yet a woman can fire a gun as surely as any man. Seems to me you should be concerned I might prove more useful than you.” She indicated his injury. “You fuck up a job, or did Durante do that to you himself??”
“Cleland.”His younger companion spoke for the first time as the man reached into his jacket.
Zaria took a step back as Cleland hesitated, her heart thunderingin her chest. Would he dare draw a gun in here, right outside Kane’s office? Would hefireit? She knew it wasn’t unusual for crew members to get into fights, or even to try and kill one another. She shouldn’t have goaded him. Once again, however, frustration had driven her to speak without thinking.
“You’re right,” Cleland said, too softly. “Wouldn’t want to wake anyone up, would we?” He withdrew his hand and reached instead for his waistband, pulling out a knife. It was small, easily concealable, but sharp. The blade glinted in the thin stream of moonlight from the nearby window.
Zaria froze. In her haste to leave before Elijah returned, she hadn’t brought a weapon, though she doubted it would’ve mattered. She didn’t have much of a chance against one large knife-wielding man, let alone two. Not without some kind of alchemological help. She took another futile step back. Her path to the stairwell was blocked. The window behind her was far too high to be an option, if she could even have gotten it open.
“Really?” she said, trying to keep her voice steady as she glanced between the two men. “What’s the plan, then? Stab me to death and leave my body for the kingpin to find?”
Cleland gave a throaty chuckle. “I don’t want you dead, girl. I simply thought you might require a little coercion.”
“You won’t be coercing me into anything,” Zaria snapped. “I’d die before I’d let you touch me.”
“We’ll see about that.” He stepped closer, narrowing the space between them, and Zaria braced herself to fight. She ignored the voice in her head that reminded her it wouldn’t matter—this fight was already lost.
But Cleland never came any closer. A gunshot exploded in the near distance, making all three of them start. Both men’s eyes flickedto the window. That brief moment of distraction was enough. Zaria kicked Cleland hard in the groin before darting past him, nearly tripping over herself as she made for the stairwell. He let out a wheezing grunt, doubling over in pain, but the younger man was quick to react. He whirled to grab Zaria’s arm as she reached the top step, attempting to yank her back.
She scrabbled for the railing with her free hand, holding tight. A brief tug-of-war ensued. In a panicked, last-ditch effort, Zaria leaned forward and dug her teeth into the man’s arm as hard as she could. He yelped, grip slackening. It was enough. She pulled herself free and barreled down the stairs, her steps too loud as she hurried for the front door.
The house was dauntingly unfamiliar in the dark, the entryway cavernous, a frozen beam of moonlight breaching the window to illuminate a strip of wooden floor. Zaria followed it, heart pounding in the back of her throat, desperately hoping she didn’t encounter anyone else. She knew the crew members tended to retreat to the barracks to sleep—assuming they didn’t have a home of their own—but it was always possible Cleland and his companion weren’t the only ones here.
Her plan was murky beyond the need toget the hell outof here. The lumbering footsteps behind her made it clear she was being pursued, and she nearly collided with the front door when she reached it, fumbling with the latch. A moment later, she was inhaling the smog-laced scent of the early morning as the wind caressed her sweaty brow. Although she’d slammed the door behind her, she heard it wrenched open again almost immediately. Someone—Cleland, no doubt—shouted something indecipherable, and Zaria took off across the lawn without daring to glance behind her. She’d taken only a handful of steps, however, when another series of muted gunshots rent the air.
They were closer this time. Louder. And—she realized now—obviously coming from an alchemological gun. She whirled toward the rear of the manor, a chill climbing her spine. If she squinted, she could make out a slim figure standing in the middle of the lawn, collar turned up, stance rigid. They raised the firearm again, aiming at something she couldn’t see, and the subsequent flash of light illuminated the figure just long enough that she could make out their features. A breath rushed out of her.
It wasKane. Zaria would have known that sharp jaw and straight nose anywhere, and the recognition filled her with an absurd sense of relief. The men at her back no longer seemed so threatening.
She made a beeline for him, and somehow, impossibly, Kane seemed to sense her presence. His head whipped around, his eyes wild as they skipped right over her to where Cleland and his companion were in close pursuit.
“Cleland!” Kane barked. “Ferrington!”
By now, Zaria had skidded to a stop at his side, her breaths coming in gasps. She could feel heat rising to her cheeks, and not because of the exertion—she hated this. The fact that she’d run to him like a fearful child seeking protection.
Across the yard, her two would-be assaulters had frozen in place, the moonlight at their backs causing their features to be obscured in shadow.
“Come off it, Durante,” Cleland said loudly. “What’d you think was gonna happen once you started bringing girls into the fold? Let her learn this ain’t no place for her.”
Zaria might have flung a retort, but Kane’s expression urged caution. His wry bravado had been replaced by something darker, and she swore she saw the planes of his face harden as he said, “I’m going to give you five seconds to get the hell off this property.”
“And then what?” Cleland took a few steps closer.
Kane shrugged. “As long as I never see your faces again, then nothing.”
Ferrington’s voice held a note of apprehension. “Are you kicking us out of the crew?”
“No. I’m kicking you out of Devil’s Acre.” Kane tilted his head. The column of his neck was a single pale slash beneath the moon. One of his hands was still wrapped around the gun, and although it hung limply at his side, a finger twitched against the trigger. “Now get the fuck out of my sight.”
There was a beat of silence. Trepidation formed a vise around Zaria’s throat; if Kane decided to shoot, they didn’t have a chance. And no matter how much they might have deserved it, she didn’t particularly want to watch them die.
“You’re joking,” Cleland said, the words heavy with disdain.
Kane’s reply was whip-quick. “Try me.”
