Voices sounded from nearby, and Zaria jerked to attention, automatically lifting the hem of her dress. Kane didn’t trust her with a gun, and was adamant she wouldn’t need one with him and Fletcher on guard, but he’d allowed her to keep the small knife strapped to her leg. The blade wasn’t exactly easy to access, and she relaxed a moment later as two boys ambled by without affording her a single glance. Given the proximity to the Seven Dials slum, the area was full of activity, mainly from those without housing as they conversed in the alleyways or drank out front of their makeshift shelters.
She let her skirts drop with an exhale, scouring the dark street for Pritchard’s tall, narrow frame. It was absurd, but she struggled to focus, knowing Kane’s eyes were on her. That he watched her from somewhere unseen. It was the last thing Zaria ought to be thinking about, and yet she felt all too aware not only of her surroundings, but of her own body.
She took up pacing in a bid to calm herself, wishing vehemently for the fog to lift enough to yield a clearer view of passersby. The minutes slid past, and before long she was the only one in the area. Vaughan’s people werelate. That, or they weren’t going to show at all. Irritation surged in the back of her throat as she toed the ground.
That was when she heard it: a sound she would have known anywhere.
Theclickof an alchemological revolver indicating it was ready to fire.
A cold sweat broke out across Zaria’s body as the noise registered. She quieted her breathing, attempting to comfort herself with the knowledge that anyone in Seven Dials could have a gun; she had no proof that she was the target. And yet she scanned the street, wide-eyed, seeking out Kane and Fletcher without realizing she was doing so.
“Zaria,run!”
She couldn’t see Kane, but his voice split the night, carried over on the cold wind. She didn’t stop to think. She bolted in the direction of the nearest alley—focused on gettingout of sight—only to find someone already there waiting for her.
She made a noise between a gasp and a scream, stumbling back into the main road as the large man advanced on her. His face was partially concealed, just like those Ward had sent after her scarcely two weeks ago. Suddenly she was inhaling the dank scent of the crypt once more. Hearing the sound of a revolver fire and watching Cecile crumple to the stone floor at her feet.
The man lunged, grabbing her by the back of her dress with enough force that she felt the seams begin to rip. Desperately, Zaria made to reach for her knife, fingers trembling, but froze when she felt something cold and hard press against her temple. The man’s hand—the one not holding the revolver—was bandaged, she noticed distantly.
“Stand.Up,” growled a voice by her ear, and she did so with agonizing slowness.
The scene before her was a nightmare. Kane and Fletcher must have emerged from their hiding place during her struggle and now were engaged in combat with two other men. Each was dressed in the same manner as her captor, and Zaria stifled a gasp as she recognized the smaller one as Ferrington. He was struggling against Fletcher, who had somehow lost his own gun and now was trying to wrest Ferrington’s revolver from his grip. Zaria cringed away as a bullet discharged, light streaking through the air before it struck a nearby wall. Meanwhile, Kane was in a standoff with a stout man she’d never seen before, both of them with guns raised.
A third man lay on the ground nearby. Blood pooled around his supine body, slick and crimson-dark. He twitched as Zaria watched,and then she gasped as Kane twisted to fire a bullet into the man’s chest. He did not move again.
In that moment, Kane’s expression was far beyond angry. It was as though he’d disconnected from himself entirely, leaving a creature devoid of all feeling in his wake. He’d pulled the trigger without flinching, withoutblinking, and continued to watch his opponent with that same icy detachment. But he was also speaking to the man, Zaria noticed, his voice low and imploring. Almost like he was trying to reason with their attacker, who, for some reason, appeared to be… hesitating?
“Enough!” the man holding Zaria bellowed. She gasped in pain as he dragged her forward another step. “Drop your gun, Durante.”
Kane turned his head, the barrel of his gun never deviating from where he pointed it at his opponent. His eyes flashed to the man’s bandaged hand, understanding crossing his face. “Cleland. You idiot motherfucker. Let her go.”
Cleland.Of course it was him. Fury bubbled at Zaria’s core like a chemical unstoppered.
Fletcher had managed to knock Ferrington’s gun away, and the two of them now fought with fists and kicks, snarling curses in between labored breaths. Zaria watched them, horrified, until Cleland’s tightening grip yanked her attention back.
“Nah,” he said loudly in response to Kane. “I don’t think I will.”
Kane wiped sweat from his brow, sneering. “What was your plan? Join Vaughan’s crew so you could help him take over the dark market?” He coughed a scornful laugh. “Yeah. I know all about his plan. I also know he doesn’t give a shit about you. Has he even introduced himself yet?”
“Shut up,” Cleland growled, “anddrop the gun. You won’t like what happens if you don’t.”
Zaria’s breathing turned shallow. The implication was clear—if Kane didn’t yield, Cleland was going to shoot her.
The seconds ticked by. Kane’s face was impossible to read. The coldness in his gaze persisted, and not once did he glance toward Zaria. Panic began to climb her throat. If her survival came at the price of his own, whywouldn’tKane let her die? He might have cared for her once—might even have been starting to again, unless she was imagining things—but that wasn’t enough. At the end of the day, she was just a girl who’d stabbed him in the back and ruined his life.
Fletcher appeared to be thinking the same, because he tossed a look of abject horror in Zaria’s direction. He truly believed he was about to watch her die, she realized, and she felt the last dregs of hope drain away.
Still, Kane didn’t lower the gun. “Are you expecting me to believe that if I lay down my weapon right now, you’ll let her live?”
There was a smirk in Cleland’s voice as he said, “We’ll see. Between you and me, I’d rather keep her alive, but I’ll kill her if I have to.”
Zaria bit down hard on her tongue as Cleland jerked her closer, fear spiking. In this particular scenario, the idea ofnotbeing killed was nearly as nightmarish.
Kane’s eyes flicked to hers for a fraction of a second, something meaningful in their depths. At the same time, he flexed his left hand, wiggling the fingers in an odd little motion that reminded Zaria of the action she made when she was anxious. She searched his face wildly, trying to understand. Imploring him to meet her gaze again.
He didn’t.
“Last chance, Durante,” Cleland snarled. He pressed the barrel of his gun to Zaria’s temple hard enough to cause pain. “Three.”
