Our Fractured Souls | Kaz Brekker

[02]

2

Zahra

The tension in the air was so thick, Zahra was almost certain even her knives wouldn't be able to cut through it.

The breeze wafting in from the harbour had ceased.

No sound permeated the murky haze of Ketterdam's briny air.

It was like the entire world was lying in wait to see whether or not the Bastard of the Barrel would fall.

Zahra was in the shadows as she always was.

Crouching down on her knees in front of a man.

Saints, she hated this.

But her power was unlimited in this situation. One move and the knife she was gripping, Sankt Ursula, would dig into his heart. And he'd be dead in seconds.

Her other knife, Sankt Vladimir, was aimed right at his left kidney.

Her sister, Inej, had one of her blades, Sankt Petyr, at Van Daal's throat. She was ready to slit it open whenever she was given the chance.

Zahra wasn't in the mood to revel in the pleasure that she and her sister had the upper hand on this no good Stadwatch guard.

Kaz Brekker, the insufferable pain in her hide was down there in that square, just about ready to meet his maker. And it was all thanks to that damn ego of his.

He had a gun pointed to his chest.

The slimeball Geels had the upper hand.

And Zahra was pissed out of her mind.

She knew if Kaz fell down on that ground tonight, cold and lifeless, they'd all be going down with him.

But the calm on Kaz's face gave her a sliver of hope. Just a sliver.

Kaz Brekker had a plan.

Saints, he always did. No matter how insane.

He wouldn't let his precious puppet show end tonight.

Not before their next big performance.

Besides, Zahra didn't want to die without getting out of this city and getting on a boat to sail around, knocking heads and making all those worthless slave traders choke on their own profits.

Hell, she didn't even want to die without seeing Viktorya and Kaz finally muster up the courage to tell each other their real feelings.

But at the moment, it seemed a certain cripple with a keen sense for trouble was well on his way to botching all of her plans.

Saints, I hate him. She snarled in her head.

Geels smirked. "Kaz Brekker, the great escape artist. How are you going to wriggle your way out of this one?"

"Going out the same way I came in." Kaz ignored the pistol, turning his attention to the big man lying on the ground, "Do you know what your problem is, Bolliger?" He jabbed at the wound in Big Bol's stomach with the metal encased tip of his cane.

"That wasn't a rhetorical question. Do you know what your biggest problem is?"

"Nooo..." Bolliger mewled.

"Give me a guess," Kaz hissed as he leaned down to stare the bigger man in the eye.

Big Bol said nothing, just released another trembling whimper and stayed writhing on the ground.