𝕬𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖘 𝕷𝖚𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖇𝖞 - [𝗞𝗮𝘇 𝗕𝗿𝗲𝗸𝗸𝗲𝗿]

𝐢𝐢. 𝘥𝘦𝘬𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘦

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 — dekapple

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 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐁 was positively alight with the sound of jingling coins, sloshing beverages and haughty laughter. Men and women tried their hands at the gambling tables, others perched upon the sticky seats that lined the mahogany bar.

 The lights above the tables cast a golden glow throughout the club. The smell of rum and whisky burnt within the air and the excited flicker of cards was prominent. Aleksa surveyed the scene with eyes ablaze.

 A drink was settled in her hand, the cool glass sending a shiver down her spine as condensation beaded on the crystal. She brought it to glossed lips, sighing as the sour flavour of cherry and the bitter burn of alcohol coated her tongue.

 It was busy nights like those — when the regulars swindled the new pigeons — that Aleksa loved most. She knew the regular patrons well; Akim was a tall man, thin in his build with wiry ginger hair standing in a tuft upon his round head. He was soft-spoken yet knew the tables unlike anyone else. His cheer rang out, and like so many others, he raised a glass in Aleksa's direction.

 She beamed, her pearly teeth on full display as she tipped her head towards him and rose her bubbling beverage into the air.

 Then there was Dimitri, the biggest and burliest of their patrons. He had deemed Aleksa as his good luck charm the very day she'd snuck from the Slat and made her name known within the club. Whenever he saw her, that snarl on his thin lips withered, his furrowed brows parted and he grinned with a golden tooth on display. He'd scoop her up and bellow 'There she is! My good luck charm!'

 She had made a name for herself with these people. They respected her. It had taken time to build her reputation, especially when she couldn't call upon the shadows to assist her — she didn't quite like the idea of being hauled back to the Little Palace against her will.

 Her reputation had been built one step at a time, brick by brick; she had shown her face without Kaz Brekker by her side, she had made people adore her and wish for her company, but she had shown people that her charm was not an invitation to take what was not their own.

 It'd been a few weeks after she'd officially joined the Dregs when a man — Viktor — had reached out his grubby fingers and glided them over her chest without an ounce of guilt, and without a shred of subtlety. Aleksa hadn't stilled, she hadn't dwelled in the shock — she did as she had been taught; she fought.

 Her palm had shot upwards and collided with his nose, a sickening crack ringing out. There had been a beat, and then blood had poured from him and a yell of pain and embarrassment had spurted from his blood-slick mouth.