West Stave Story [Kaz Brekker X Reader]

Missions and Meetings

~ Y/N Pov ~

I wake up at nine bells for my University lecture. Today's lesson is "Peace During Periods of War." I already know a lot of the lesson will cover the Ravkans and their enemies, the Shu and the Fjerdans. I know about my people and their many, many wars, and the palace built for the Grisha to go for a safe haven. It wasn't so safe when the Darkling was alive.

Now my country fights over becoming two separate units, West Ravka and the Old Country now that the Fold is gone. As someone who lived in West Ravka, I really could not give a damn about the outcome. Ro, however, believes the Saints would not want a war. Yet another reason why we came to Ketterdam.

My hand just barely makes contact with the front door handle of the Den when I hear someone's voice behind me.

"Step into my office, Y/N," he says.

I turn and see Pekka Rollins staring at me, calculating as usual. I do admit, I am not used to Rollins directly addressing me, he usually only talks to Roydan. But still, I nod and follow him into his office in the Den. The seats are soft and velvet, the decor gilded.

"I have a job for you," he says, folding his hands across the desk, showcasing a smile.

I shift my weight in my seat. "A job... right now? I have a lecture to attend-"

"Ah, you amuse me. You have a job, not a lecture. It wasn't a question. And I'll pay you extra for it," he reaches over the table and grabs my wrist. I suck in a breath as he pushes my sleeve up my arm, exposing my tattoo.

"Don't tell me you aren't loyal to the gang right after you just got your tattoo," he says.

A warning. This city is full of them. All indirect, but still impactful, nonetheless.

"I am loyal, sir," I say.

I have a job. This is what I wanted, right? Perhaps it is Rollins' unnerving grin, but something is making me uneasy.

I pull my arm back. "What is the job?"

"A heist," he replies, and at that, I sit up straighter. Why didn't he just say that?

He continues. "Tonight at eleven bells, there will be a ship at fifth harbor, birth eighteen. On that ship, there will be crates full of new Fjerdan artillery. I need you to get those guns and bring them back here. Easy money."

"If the heist is tonight, why do I need to skip my lecture? It ends at five bells."

He raises a brow. "If you are so sure of your skills, you can attend class instead of practicing for the heist. But I'll just say right now, you may run into certain...thieves that know a lot more than you. The harbor is Dreg's territory now. Your call."

I slouch into my chair. Rollins is right. My golden revolvers haven't seen the light of day since I moved here. I trust my sharpshooting skills, but perhaps I am a little rusty.

"Fine, I'll stay. But if you believe my skills need so much work, why choose me for this heist? Why not my brother?" I ask.

Rollins shakes his head. "We need someone unrecognizable, with no rivals. You've never been on a heist, no one has seen what you could be capable of, so they won't expect much. You don't look like much to begin with."

"Gee, thanks."

"Trust me, in the Barrel, that will come in handy. No one will expect you to steal Fjerdan guns," he says casually.