“She tried to leave the city,” Maisie said bluntly before Pritchard could continue. “Vaughan was right.”
His gaze slid to Zaria. “Is that so? Well. I daresay Miss Mendoza is a predictable young woman.”
Zaria squared her shoulders, maintaining eye contact despite her discomfort. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re daring.” Pritchard’s short exhale might have been a laugh. “Defiant. Vaughan knew you wouldn’t listen when I instructed you not to skip town. He seems to think you have a penchant for refusing to do as you’re told.”
“So I’m still being spied on.”
“I thinkmonitoredwould be more apt.”
Perhaps she should have been afraid, but it was anger that tightened in Zaria’s chest. She didn’t like it—the idea that Vaughan not only had people watching her but had also been able to predict her actions. “And whereisyour boss? For someone who wants toestablish a reputation, Vaughan certainly doesn’t like to show his face.”
“That’s a reputation within itself, is it not? The unknown, you see, presents a singular type of threat. It keeps one guessing.” Despite Zaria’s earlier refusal, Pritchard set a glass of wine before her. The deep crimson liquid couldn’t have looked less appetizing. “More to the point, Vaughan’s whereabouts are none of your concern. Now, if you’ve quite finished, I’d like to address the reason for this meeting. The playing field has shifted since we spoke last.”
The words were affable, but his tone was not. Zaria took a steadying breath. “Because of the new kingpin.”
“I told her,” Maisie cut in, tapping a silent pattern on the table with her fingers. “She didn’t seem to know yet.”
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Zaria said icily. “You wanted information, right? People connected to Ward’s crew? I can give you names.”
Pritchard’s cool blue eyes held a threat as he surveyed her over the rim of his glass. “Vaughan is no longer interested in anything as menial asnames. Did you know, Miss Mendoza, that rumor has it Ward died in a fire as long ago as Thursday? That was the day we first spoke to you, if you’ll recall.”
Panic tugged at her. “I do.”
“And yet you said nothing about his death.”
“I wasn’t yet aware.”
“Is that so?”
Zaria braced her elbows on the table. “I was rather busy that day, as you well know. Besides, I rarely interacted with the kingpin himself.”
“Indeed. As I recall, you were more closely aligned with his replacement. Kane Hunt. Or,” Pritchard corrected himself, “Kane Durante, as I hear he now prefers to be called.”
Emotions warred within her at the confirmation of what she already knew. As if Kane hadn’t presented enough of a danger, now he was the most powerful man in Devil’s Acre. How had he made it happen? What had hedone?
“We’re no longer in contact,” she said shortly. “Our partnership was only temporary. I didn’t even know he had replaced Ward until tonight.”
“You didn’t know.” Maisie repeated the claim slowly and with disdain. “You didn’t know Ward had been killed. You didn’t know Durante was his replacement. You’re either a liar, or you’re useless.” She turned to Pritchard. “I told you she wasn’t important to him.”
For some reason, the assertion sent a pang through Zaria. Pritchard sighed, motioning for Maisie to be silent. “Your partnership with Kane Durante may have been temporary, but hopefully you still retain his trust. You see, these recent changes have inspired Vaughan to give you a different assignment.” He leaned forward as if to impart a secret. “When it comes to kingpins, useless is equivalent to disposable. But I’m sure you could have guessed that much.”
“What does Vaughan want now?” Zaria felt disconnected from her body. She wanted to insist she no longer had anything to do with Kane, and that whatever they were about to ask of her was a mistake, but she also understood Pritchard’s warning. If she wasn’t useful to Vaughan, he would get rid of her. Best-case scenario, he told the coppers about her role in the theft from the Crystal Palace. Worst-case scenario, he had her killed. Zaria wouldn’t delude herself into thinking there was an outcome where she walked away unscathed.
Pritchard’s lips thinned, the furrows around his mouth deepening. “Whenever there’s a change of leadership, things become… unstable. I suspect that’s doubly true with someone like Durante incharge, seeing as he’s quite young and presumably inexperienced. There will be infighting. Poor management. General discord.”
Zaria said nothing; he still hadn’t answered her question.
“That being said,” Pritchard went on, “even if some refuse to pledge loyalty to Durante, the Devil’s Acre crew still has numbers that Vaughan doesn’t. Brute force and violence is not an option. We will have to wear them down, bit by bit, until Vaughan can gain control of the dark market. And that’s where you come in, Miss Mendoza.”
“Okay,” she said, hesitation making her draw the syllables out long.
“Ward possessed something important. Something that will ensure Vaughan succeeds in cementing his power and influence. It exists, we believe, in the form of a ledger. A master list of every dark market transaction overseen by his crew. It should outline the types and quantities of items being bought and sold, as well as buyers, suppliers, and their respective addresses.”
“And I suppose Vaughan wants this ledger so that he can poach Ward’s contacts and clients.”
Pritchard’s smile was oddly devious. “Something like that.”
