His unruly brows dipped inward. “To see te Wizard, of course.”
The words struck me like darts.
“The Wizard?” I repeated, slowly, adding time. “Doesn’t he have more important things to do?”
“Probably. So, ye can imagine what his reaction will be when he has to stop what he’s doin’ for…” Even in the dark, his inquisitive gaze bored into me. “This.”
This—cataloguing me not as a threat, but more a thorn they needed to pluck out of their side. He tilted a brow, his eyes sweeping over my clothes. Maybe for weapons.
If they were expecting me, they would’ve known I was defenseless—powerless. But clearly, they hadn’t been briefed. They had no idea who I was.
I played into that. “What, an inquiring customer?”
“Yer still a trespasser.” He gnashed his teeth together, metal caps glistening. The sound cut into my skull, and I bit back a scream for help that I knew he would only silence.
Turning his back, he walked towards the moonrocks, where the stones caged me in.
The leaden weight of fear nearly shoved me to my knees.
I didn’t move until fingers dug into my bicep. “C’mon,” one of the remaining dwarves growled, “we don’t ’ave all day.”
“Can you lighten your grip a little?” I bit out, feet skidding in the dirt.
In reply, he tugged on my arm as if it were a leash. I was flung forward, my shoulder almost popping out of its socket.
A flash of recognition crossed his features. “I know who ye are.”
“No, you don’t,” I said quickly. Much too quickly. “I’m just a customer. Here with a business proposition. First-time visitor. You don’t know me.”
“Yes, I do.” He threaded his fingers through his moustache in contemplation, until his eyes lit. “Yer Ryder’s girl.”
I flinched at the name. Shit, the dwarves did know me. I’d be delusional to think otherwise—to think I’d actually outsmarted a bunch of veteran criminals.
Stomach roiling, I swallowed thickly against the sting of bile. “And who are you?”
“Te name’s Nemuik.” Gravel crackled beneath his boots as he watched me for a reaction. I didn’t give him one, keeping my expression neutral. “That ter’s Declan and up ahead is Grum.”
I glanced at the dwarf on my other side. His grip was firm but noticeably gentler. Most of his mouth—his entire face, really—was buried in his russet beard.
With a sharp twist of my arm, we followed Grum around the building, broken windows and their bare interiors flashing by. My heart skipped. Was that the room where Ryder signed his blood oath? Where he’d vowed to hunt me down?
“So, Ryder and Leif made it back already, then?” I asked, trying not to stumble over their names. They still tasted bitter, but I’d say anything to fill the silence, which was sharper than the blade gleaming at Nemuik’s hip.
“What now?”
“From the Council of the Moon?” No answer. “Crescent Rock?” Disbelief had my voice pitching up. I knew I was dealing with criminals here, but surely slaughtering dozens of innocent werewolves wasn’t a typical checkbox on their to-do list. “With the rest of the Night Stalkers?”
“What are ye goin’ on about?” Nemuik snapped.
Suspicion pricked at my skin. “There were hundreds of you there. It was an ambush.”
“Exactly what are ye tryin’ to insinuate, girl?” His beady eyes narrowed in impatience, but his gaze bounced across my face, like he was looking for something.
I glared right back. “Nothing, I’m telling you facts. Leif led the whole attack.”
“Our crew done no such thing.”
“Who was it then?” I side-eyed Declan. He seemed equally confused. Or maybe that was disinterest? Hard to tell with all the hair. Either way—this was weird. “They were dressed in all black.”
