This time, there was no outrage. Not from anyone save Davies, who let out a roar that was abruptly cut off as Kane shot him, too. The sound cracked through the foyer, the air ringing in the aftermath. Then there was silence.
Kane thought about the bullet he’d put in Ward’s chest. How he’d dreamed of the moment for so many years, and how it hadn’t felt anything like he’d imagined. There was no triumph. No satisfaction. Only a bone-deep sense of unreality. A sense that had persisted for the rest of that day and still lingered within him now as his mindrecoiled from the memory. Ward’s empty face became Fletcher’s, arranged in utter betrayal and contempt. Emotion speared through Kane in a way that threatened to snatch the air from his lungs. Furiously, he tried to shove the thoughts away, but then Fletcher’s face became Zaria’s, her features twisted in utter horror, the way they’d been as the pawnshop burned.
Kane’s insides turned molten. He wasgladto have horrified her. He hoped she’d lived in terror every day since. In one fell swoop, Zaria Mendoza had taken everything from him. His life had fallen apart in a matter of hours. It was only fair that he’d sent hers up in flames.
And now here he was, standing before the crew that had once followed Ward. Rebuilding himself the only way he knew how.
He stowed his gun back inside his jacket, scanning the room as he did so. The energy in the foyer had shifted. Most of the men were wide-eyed, even if they’d managed to control the rest of their expressions. Some looked resentful, though none dared say a word. Others were openly fearful. But all of them had their attention trained on Kane, waiting to see what he would do next.
“Did I not make myself clear,” Kane said softly, “when I indicated there were to be no interruptions? Was I notexplicitwhen I told you that whatever you once expected from Ward, you could now expect from me? Is this what it takes for me to make my point?” He gestured in a jerking arc at Davies’s and Yardley’s bodies. “Tell me, who’s in charge here?”
Still nobody spoke. Several of the men exchanged glances.
“I asked you a question.” Kane raised his voice. “Who’s in charge around these parts?”
“You are,” came the response from his most ardent supporters. A couple others echoed the sentiment, albeit grudgingly.
“All of you, answer thefucking question,” Kane bellowed, lips pulling back from his teeth in some echo of a smile.“Who is in charge?”
This time, the answer came in a resounding chorus.
“That’s right. Now get out.” Kane’s abrupt order had everyone hesitating once more, thrown. He let the smile slip from his lips.“OUT!”
The crew complied, some muttering, others practically tripping over themselves in their haste to leave. Kane didn’t move, waiting until only Tom, Adam, and Elijah remained. The trio watched him expectantly, and Kane released a breath as the door slammed shut a final time.
“Get rid of the bodies,” he said, surprised to find his voice detached and steady. “I don’t care what you do with them, but whatever it is, make sure you don’t cause a scene.”
Adam and Elijah made quick work of that, mainly because Tom made no attempt to assist. A moment later, Kane found himself alone with the doorman, staring unseeingly at the mess on the floor.
“I think that went fairly well,” Tom said, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. “Do you?”
Though Kane heard the question, it didn’t register.
“Durante?”
“Ah.” He blinked at the other man. “It went about as well as expected, I suppose.”
Tom peered more closely at him, brows drawing together. “You all right?”
“I’m fine,” Kane snapped. “Deal with the blood, would you, Tommy?”
When he’d made it back upstairs to his office, Kane shut the door and leaned heavily against it, facing Ward’s cabinet of curiosities on the other side of the room. A collection of tiny skulls and skeweredbugs stared back at him. He thought, absurdly, that he understood how they felt. Pinned in place, primed for observation, their wings useless. As the solitude washed over him, his lungs seemed suddenly ill-equipped to deal with air. Each breath came too fast. He was being crushed from the inside, his organs squeezing together, the cavity of his chest caving in.
Kane slammed his fist into the door again and again and again.
ZARIA
It was Monday, and if all went according to plan, Zaria would be far away from London by this time tomorrow.
It had been three days since the confrontation in the stagecoach, which meant she was supposed to make a report to Pritchard tonight. She would have preferred to already be gone by now, but Jules was worried about his father in the aftermath of the fire. George Zhao was suffering from complications of smoke inhalation, and Jules had been hesitant to leave before their time ran out. Zaria didn’t blame her friend, but Vaughan’s ultimatum still hovered over her like a guillotine ready to drop.
She hated that they’d ended up here. That her actions had put Jules in danger of Vaughan and, presumably, Kane. After all, it hadn’t been Jules’s idea to help Kane steal from the Crystal Palace. He’d only been involved because of his steadfast refusal to let Zaria takethe risk alone. And now, unless they got the hell out of the city, they both could very well end up in prison.
“Is that all you’re bringing?” Jules asked, watching Zaria toss her meager belongings into an old trunk.
“That’s all I have,” she reminded him. Given that the fire had started in her workshop, she hadn’t been able to salvage much. For the most part, she wasn’t particularly bothered, but losing her father’s notes had been a blow. Itzal Mendoza’s knowledge of alchemology had far outpaced her own, and although their relationship had been fraught, those scraps of faded parchment were all Zaria had left of him. She’d managed to dig out some of her supplies, thanks to their fireproof containers, but otherwise she had little in the way of possessions.
Jules, who hadn’t waited until the very last moment to pack, sighed. He lay on his stomach with his chin propped up on his fists, watching Zaria frantically attempt to organize herself. “I’m sorry.”
