Kaz Brekker didn't need a reason. Those were the words whispered on the streets of Ketterdam - but that didn't mean that he never had one.
The Shu Serpent rears her head and slithers from the shadows when a high paying job catches her prying eyes a...
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The men leading them were certainly not Stadtwatch but were definitely shady judging by their dark coats and the way they were leading the three Crows down to one of the deepest rooms of the house.
When they entered a room that looked like a study of some kind, there were three chairs that had been dragged out in the centre for them to sit on.
They were all forced down onto the chairs.
As the heavy hand grabbed her shoulder and pushed her down, Zhen felt panic hit her in a wave. She sat but the hand lingered a second too long, making her shy away and duck her head down to hide the pale expression on her face.
Jespers complaints about his coat were distant in her head but was helping bring her back to focus.
"What's all this, then?" He asked, eyeing the two guards set at the doors on the opposite side of the room and the one they'd entered through.
Zhen scanned the men, finding they stood like cheap bouncers and it took a lot of effort not to comment on it aloud; she figured she'd keep quiet until they knew who they were dealing with.
The confident Officer explained.
"Somebody paid good Kruge to spend some time alone with you three, though I bet some of you are used to hearing that."
Something about those words had Zhen's skin burning uncomfortably hot. She swallowed thickly, shifting in her seat, as the officers eyes swept to her. If they had the safety net of the Club to fall back on she would set the man on fire where he stood - but everything was uncertain and she refused to compromise their situation just because of a childish comment getting under her skin.
Still, she could dream.
As he finished his amused glance with the other men lined against the wall to his right, the door behind him opened and a man entered. Judging by the way he shoved the doors open, he wasn't happy.
And judging by his face, they were probably a bit fucked.
In all honesty, she was more concerned with Rollins and Florescu, not Dreeson.
His air of confidence was sickening and slightly misplaced given the fact he clearly didn't own the building they were in judging by his taste in interior design.
Zhen scanned the walls laden with intricately woven tapestries. On the table was a lantern.
Judging by where they had met him to strike the deal that led them through the fold, she gathered he preferred candles. He liked golden upholstery and expensive paintings. This place was larger. There were no ledgers or paperwork on the table, no pencils atop the surface, just ornaments.
"Criminals." He greeted with disdain, mirroring how they'd first met.
"Dreeson." Kaz greeted back, no waver heard in his stoic voice now they were out of the confines of the prison wagon.
