Right. This was a lair. “Is this tavern open to business?”
“Open, yes, to people who have business with us. Do you have business with us, little mouse?”
“I amnota mouse.” And she didn’t have business with anyone present. But Mr. Rollings might? But why lure her here? Unless he wanted her to walk into this situation... which would be beyond disturbing. Stars, she should feel fear, concern, downright panic, but instead, all she felt was that same crackle beneath her skin she’d felt while slipping out of her old house without being caught.
No. This was most certainly not the work of Duvessa. But that begged the question. Who?
Her gaze flicked between the men staring at her.
Unmoving.
Expressionless.
Like gargoyles carved from stone. Well, except for Mr. Grin over here.
“See something interesting?” Mr. Grin asked.
“Friends of yours?” she countered, gaze drifted over the other men present again.
A chuckle. “Something like that.”
On second glance, they all did look similar. Familiar.
All dressed in black.
All with dark hair.
All with eyes like ink—deep and shadowed and far too knowing.
Like they could be—
Furys.
Her breath locked.
They had to be. The resemblance was so uncanny she didn’t know why she didn’t notice the similarities from the start. They each resembled him in one form or another. There was a reflection of Maxen in each man.
Fury’s.
Indeed.
A family tavern.
She swept the place with a renewed understanding. Cold. No fire crackled to heat up the room. No other people from about town. No liveliness here. Maxen’s quarters came to mind.
Another lair, she supposed.
And while nothing about this place felt safe, nothing about their presence felt threatening either.
“You’re Maxen’s brothers.”
He laughed. “That we are, little mouse.”
“Did you send me a note to meet here?” she asked the man.
“Little mouse, I never send notes.” He cocked his head. “With or without a note, you shouldn’t come alone to a place like this.”
Calliope jutted out her chin defiantly. “I can handle myself.” She could run really, really fast.
