Pretending they were unaware of their stalker, they stopped at a small pub that barely fit twenty people. Its ceiling sagged with age, and its metal beams were spotted with patches of rust. A single amber ultralight buzzed overhead. The pub was shit, but it was a good place to linger and catch some gossip while waiting to see who was following them.
Ahna ordered two pints of RevaBeer while Christian snagged a tiny table in the far corner. He sat with his back to the wall and scanned the room. A minute later, Ahna took the seat across from him and swallowed a huge gulp of her drink.
“Wow,” she said, flinching. “I’ve been drinking this every day, and it’s still the worst thing I’ve ever tasted. Do you people ever get used to drinking this shit?”
A corner of Christian’s mouth twitched upward. “Not really. But when you’re poor and really want to get toasted, that’s the best way to do it.”
She gagged but didn’t hesitate to take another swig.
Christian nursed his drink. The last thing he wanted was to be buzzed if some dick from the Falaichte caught him off guard. He probably should share the possibility with Ahna, but how could he admit the awful things he’d done to someone he’d just met?
A figure dressed in brown stepped into the pub. From a distance, they appeared female, but with the baggy cloak and hood over their head, it was hard to tell. They could be a male of smaller stature. They eyed the table where Christian and Ahna sat before turning their back to them and ordering a drink.
“Clocking our potential stalker at your five,” Christian said. “Unsure if they’re male or female.”
“Okay, keep an eye on them,” Ahna replied, subtly unfastening the sheath around her thigh that housed her dagger.
Christian took a small sip of RevaBeer and discreetly slipped grav knuckles onto his dominant, right hand. SARTF hadgraciously gifted them to him, and he had to admit he was quite fond of them.
He sat lazily in his seat, keeping watch on the individual out of the corner of his eye while pretending to be absorbed in conversation with Ahna.
“So, tell me about your time here,” she said. “What did you do for work?”
His jaw flexed. “Mining, mostly.” He would leave out the part where he’d also headlined ring fighting matches to pay off his father’s debts.
“That sounds . . . horrible.” She took another huge sip of beer and grimaced.
“I suppose. The majority of the people in Perileos grow up in the mines. You get used to it.”
The bartender’s gaze flicked toward them. For someone untrained, the movement would’ve been impossible to spot. But after all the years he’d spent learning fighters’ tells—and hunting humans—Christian didn’t miss much anymore. Call it a survival instinct. He’d been honest when he’d told Gemma he was usually the Falaichte’s prey on hunting days. One second of distraction could’ve cost him.
Their cloaked follower eyed Christian and Ahna again over their shoulder before setting coin on the bar.
Fuck.
“They’re definitely here for us,” Christian warned.
Ahna smirked. “Good. I’ve been itching for some fun. Remember, we want them alive.”
Breathing slowly and steadily through his nostrils, he honed his gaze on the movement of the person’s hands and feet. He couldn’t miss a single twitch.
The stalker’s toes turned seconds before their hand slipped into their coat. The movement was quick, but Christian’s reflexes were faster.
“Down,” he shouted at Ahna, and she leapt off her chair. Together they flipped the table and took cover, sending their half-full glasses shattering across the metal floor. Thethunkof revarium steel against wood resonated amidst the shrieks of the few patrons racing for the exit.
“You shouldn’t’ve come back, Christy,” a sultry feminine voice said.
Ahna flashed Christian a questioning stare as his pulse ticked up. He’d know that voice anywhere—Cho. It had only been a matter of time before someone in the Falaichte came after him. Buther?
Ahna pressed her thumb against the black band she’d worn around her wrist for days. A thin strip of ultralight, fused with spidersilk fabric, pulsated a light blue. Christian poised on the balls of his feet, ready to leap from behind cover the moment Ahna made her move.
“Paulo was madder than fuck when you just up and left,” Cho continued, her melodic voice drawing nearer.
“Why do they always decide to give a speech?” Ahna spoke softly, pulling her dagger into her hand.
“Fuck if I know,” Christian replied.
Cho’s footsteps approached. “You come with me and beg for mercy, and maybe he’ll let your treason slide.”
