“Not particularly,” Kane said, rocking back on his heels. “They’refairly tough, though.” He inclined his head at Adam, who directed an uppercut to Davies’s chin. There was a grunt, then a stream of curses that rivaled even Kane’s vocabulary. Cromwell cut a threatening figure with his wide shoulders and closely shaved blond hair, but he was rarely violent unless ordered to be. It was fortunate that he’d been quick to transfer his loyalty from Ward to Kane, because the paradoxically soft-spoken boy wasn’t the kind of person you wanted as an adversary.
“You can muck me up all you like,” Davies snarled once he had caught his breath, “but the crew will never accept you as Ward’s replacement.”
This time it was Elijah who threw the punch. Really, it was him Kane had to thank for Adam’s allegiance. Where Elijah went, Adam tended to follow.
Kane watched impassively as Davies spat out a broken tooth, then grinned. “Seems some of them already have. I know you’ve been trying to turn the others against me. Spinning tales about how I don’t have the guts, the smarts, to do what Ward did. Telling them I’ll run this crew into the ground. That I need to be taken care of.And who do you reckon would step up then, Russell? You? Do you fancy yourself a king?”
Crimson dripped down the other man’s chin, lost in the coarse hair of his beard. “You don’t have what it takes, Durante. Do you know what you do with an animal that can’t hack the job it’s meant for? You put it out of its damned misery.”
“So you admit I’m meant for the job.”
At that, Elijah cracked a smile. With his dark curls, tall frame, and discerning gaze, he was one of the cleverer crew members. Among the crew there were two frames of thought: First, that the boy Ward had favored and protected was his natural successor, and as the kingpin’s assumed confidante, was the best chance of ensuring a smooth transition. Not to mention that Kane had cultivated a reputation over the years. One of a smooth-talking, untouchable con man who wouldn’t hesitate to pull a trigger. And pull the trigger he had—more than once, Ward had used Kane to punish those who proved a disappointment.
Davies, though, thought differently. He was one of few people Ward had relied upon to punishKane. And so he’d cultivated a small group who believed something else entirely: That Kane was a sorry, unworthy excuse for a kingpin. An overconfident little shit who’d stepped into a role he didn’t deserve.
Though it had only been three days, that opinion seemed to be spreading. Kane knew it was only a matter of time before Davies and his supporters mustered up enough brainpower to organize an attack. He needed to do something, and fast.
“Tommy!” Kane barked suddenly, making the red-haired man start. “Get the door, would you?”
Indeed, the device Ward had once used to alert him of potential visitors had begun to crow, an infuriating, high-pitched soundemanating from what Kane could only assume were the pits of alchemological hell.
Tom obliged, yanking the door open to reveal Vernon Yardley escorted by Raphael Aubert, Edward O’Reilly escorted by Anton Becker, and Gilbert Dale escorted by Liu Cheng. Three men sympathetic to Davies’s cause, and three men loyal to Kane. A number of others followed behind them, grimacing around clay pipes and looking either wary or confused. Still more men filtered in from where they’d been playing cards in the drawing room, then leaned against the stairwell or in one of the adjacent doorways. Kane couldn’t be certain of their loyalties; after Ward’s death, they’d continued on with whatever tasks he’d given them—or, alternatively, continued faffing around—as if nothing had happened. It was too much to hope that wouldn’t change soon.
Kane yanked his hands from his pockets and brought them together in a clap that echoed through the cavernous foyer. It was enough to command the attention of those who hadn’t yet quieted, and as all eyes landed on him he was reminded, yet again, of another day entirely. A day in which he’d been among those standing at the edge of the room, face bruised, attention trained on Ward. A different room. A different time.
We know to reach out and take what we can, Ward had told him once.Because if we don’t, someone else is going to do it.
Well. That much was obvious. It was time for Kane to make his command clear.
He looked around at the gathered men, letting his gaze linger on those who dared meet it. The action reminded him, absurdly, of something he’d heard about wolves: That prolonged eye contact was considered a threat. That if you wanted to avoid a fight, the best thing to do was lower your gaze and back away. Kane, however, did not intend to do anything of the sort.
“I appreciate you all being here,” he began, “whether willingly or otherwise. Now, I know Ward wasn’t one for group meetings unless absolutely necessary. I tend to be the same. But I also know the last few days have left you with quite a few questions, so I thought it prudent to offer some answers.” A hand lifted in his periphery, and Kane waved it down with an impatient slide of his arm. “This isn’t an open forum, Solomon. I’m well aware of what the questions are.”
The young Harvey Solomon let his hand snap back to his side, chastened.
“Whatever you expected from Ward, you can now expect from me.” Kane commenced a slow walk from one side of the room to the other. “That means no interruptions. It’ll be a bit disorganized while we find our bearings, but that doesnotconstitute an opening for you to act out. If you wouldn’t say it to Ward, don’t say it to me. Do I make myself clear?”
“Don’t sell us a dog,” a wiry, red-nosed man guffawed, clutching a pewter cup as he leaned against the wall. “You might have some of ’em scared, but most of us have been around here longer than you. We’ve let you play at kingpin this weekend, but surely you can’t expect to replace Ward.”
Kane withdrew his dark market revolver in one swift motion, mind going blank as he pulled the trigger. Light streaked through the room, too fast to behold, as a guttural cry tore from the man’s throat.
“Thank you for your input, Cleland,” Kane said loudly, speaking over the commotion that erupted. Cleland’s cry became a bellow; the alchemological bullet had passed through both his hand and the pewter cup, sending a mixture of blood and alcohol dripping to the floor at his feet. It could not have been clearer that a brawl was dangerously close to breaking out as a few of Kane’s supporters moved tohold back the dissenters. He fired a second shot into the ceiling and snarled, “QUIET!”
It worked. Of the kingpin’s men, very few had been given alchemological firearms, and now Kane had access to Ward’s entire collection. The crew’s fear was warranted. Magic was the most lethal thing you could fire from a gun. It ripped through flesh and bone with ease, as evidenced by Cleland’s destroyed hand.
Kane dragged agitated fingers through his hair, cognizant that it was a bit of a mess. He hadn’t bothered with his usual slick appearance these past few days. “You all know exactly what kind of work I did for Ward,” he hissed. “Of everyone here, I know the most of his contacts. I’m familiar with his suppliers, and I’m aware of the plans he’d set into motion. If you want things to continue as they were—if you want to keep your jobs, that is—I’m the only option. Not your best option, youronlyone.” He shrugged. “Or you can throw your support behind someone like Davies and see if you make it to the end of the month. You should know full well there are always people rallying to take a kingpin’s place.”
It was only a partial bluff. Ward hadn’t told Kane much of anything where his strategies and contacts were concerned. That said, he’d left plenty of information behind. Ledgers, lists of names, notes that hinted at future assignments… It wasn’t everything, and some of the documents were barely comprehensible, but it was more than anyone else had. Kane had spent hours compiling his findings and mapping out a mental plan. News of Ward’s death would spread quickly—hell, it was probably common knowledge already—and any indication of weakness would indeed have the kingpin’s former rivals flocking to Devil’s Acre.
Kane’srivals now, he supposed. The realization should have beensobering. Instead, he was possessed by the overwhelming urge to laugh.
“Davies would still be a better option than you,” Yardley spat. “You were nothing more than Ward’s little bitch. You think everyone doesn’t know how he got us to rough you up whenever you disappointed him? Best part of my week, it was, watching you whimper for his affection like a—”
The man never got to finish his sentence. Something in Kane abruptly bottomed out: a deep well of rage that overflowed, demanding to be released. He felt disconnected from his body, and not in the dreamlike way he’d become accustomed to since the night he’d killed Ward. This time, there was a chaotic edge to the sensation. He raised the gun. Pulled the trigger.
And put a bullet in Yardley’s head.
There were approximately six other people Kane could have hit in the process, but his aim was impeccable. Raphael Aubert relinquished Yardley the moment he was struck, leaping back from the man’s body as it crumpled. Yardley was dead before he hit the floor. Kane knew as much without having to check. He was well apprised of how quickly these dark market guns could kill.
