The Wolf with the Iron Jaw (Elysium #1)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

 He stood like a mountain in that small, cramped room. His size wasn't as noticeable in the wide-open streets of the city center, but here his bald head nearly touched the ceiling. How had he even managed to fit his hulking shoulders through the doorway?

The beast of a man surveyed the crowd with a confused frown. As his gaze swept towards Trinket, she flattened herself against the wall, sinking deeper into the shadows. His eyes went right over her, reaching the end of the room before making another pass. The knife hidden beneath her hat grew heavier, and her fingers twitched, itching to pull it out.

The man who had entered with the Ape Man stepped forward. How different he was from his companion. Though dwarfed by the Ape Man's size, he was likely of average height. Pale in an almost otherworldly way. Dark hair swept back and hidden beneath a black top hat. Well-dressed and well-groomed. He observed the room with a hint of arrogance and humor. Leaning against a lavishly decorated walking stick, he crossed one leg over the other in a manner that suggested he was about to make himself at home right there in the doorway.

The same young man who had led her and Booker into the basement squeezed past the newcomers. He looked irked that the men had entered without his guidance but at the same time seemed too scared to express his indignation. Instead, he disappeared into the throng of people, leaving the two men to appraise the room on their own.

It felt like they stood there for an eternity, but at last, the well-dressed man flicked his gloved fingers in the air and strode into the crowd, the Ape Man trailing close behind.

Trinket released a long breath, her eyes still glued to the pair as they meandered from table to table. She needed to know exactly where they were at all times. It was far too dangerous to let her guard down. The Lipstick Woman might no longer be a concern, but the Ape Man, as slow-witted as he was, remained a threat.

"You all right?"

Kill it!

Panic seized her heart, and without thinking twice, she pulled the knife from her hat and aimed it at the throat of the man who had snuck up behind her. Her muscles relaxed when she found, not the Ape Man or some other fiend determined to drag her back to Elysium, but Booker.

"Good heavens, Booker, you scared the life out of me," she sighed as she lowered the blade.

He chuckled, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. "Glad to know that despite your earlier protestations, you're more than ready to use that."

"I thought you were someone else."

Her gaze flickered to the Ape Man, and her nerves coiled tightly again.

Booker followed her stare and gave a slight grunt. "I feel like I should be offended."

"Is he with the Mice?"

"Gin did mention that the dead woman was a former companion of a new member."

"Who's the other man?"

"Him? You've met him before."

"Have I?"

"Well, not officially, I suppose. He was the one interrogating Wotton. Scales."

A shiver ran through her body. This knowledge gave a different meaning to the man's narrowed eyes and crooked grin. It wasn't just arrogance and elegance—he was as cold-blooded as his name suggested.

"Viper's right-hand man," Booker continued. "Since Viper generally stays out of sight, Scales is the one who handles most of the work in the gang. Heists, murders, public appearances. You could say Viper is the face of the Mice and Scales is the brains."