Gavin resisted the urge to wring his hands as he walked down the dimly lit side street.

  That had been too close.

  His chest still pounded like a drunken palindrome with the fear of what might happen if he failed. If he had been unable to slip away from his team.

  The team he knew he was going to betray. Again.

  The telepath clutched a long, intricately carved, box while his eyes roamed over every surface and corner of the road. A few loose shutters overhead banged lightly against their frames as the ocean breeze picked up.

  Elysia was thick with the scent of damp stone and distant rain, mingling with the acrid odor of refuse that lingered in the alleys. After the sun had set, Gavin had managed to come up with a convincing enough excuse to leave them for a few hours, claiming he had family in town to attend to.

  Another lie.

  Gavin’s footsteps echoed softly against the cobblestones as he navigated the twisting, shadowy paths. The alleys seemed to close in on him, the darkness an oppressive cloak that only amplified his anxiety.

  He knew this was a mistake.

  He could feel his guilt writhe inside him like a pit of asps, ready to strike the moment his resolve wavered. Each step he took toward Rufus felt like an admission of failure, a resignation to the life he had tried so desperately to escape.

  The Stone Britches’ thugs awaited him in their usual spot, their forms barely discernible in the dim light of the glowflake lanterns on the intersecting street. The signature bowler hats and suspenders marked them unmistakably.

  Tonight’s leader was none other than Rufus again. The mustachioed brute stepped forward as Gavin approached, every muscle across his tight frame promising violence should Gavin try to run now. The others, a motley crew of thugs, watched with predatory eyes as they leaned against a stack of crates or polished their weapons.

  “Well, well, it looks like the pup has come back,” Rufus sneered, his breath reeking of stale whiskey and cheap opium. “What have you brought us this time?”

  Gavin swallowed hard, forcing a smile onto his face. “Rufus, I’ve got something special for you.”

  He opened the box to reveal the Silk Spindle.

  “This can turn any thread into silk,” Gavin whispered hurriedly. “Imagine the money you can make with this. Mad Rosey will suddenly be competing with you all for the best import prices, but you won’t have to worry about the unreliability of sailors if you can simply buy the cheapest threads around and throw them into this marvel of magic. Silk will become the new cotton in Elysia, and the Stone Britches will be back on top.”

  “Who said we weren’t on top, eh pup?” Rufus’s eyes narrowed as he examined the spindle, his expression unimpressed.

  He took it from the proffered box, turning it over in his hands with a disinterested air.

  “Lovely,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But it’s far from enough to cover your debts. You were supposed to pay us by the end of this week, not give us more chores.”

  A cold sweat broke out on Gavin’s forehead. “What do you mean? This thing can generate a fortune! You’re not seeing the big picture here! It’s an investment, sure, but as close to guaranteed gold as you can get this side of Prosperity’s court!”

  Rufus’s smile turned cruel.

  His boots barely made a noise as he stalked toward Gavin.

  “Y’know, people said the same thing about you,” Rufus drawled. “‘Oh look! A skilled telepath who hasn’t already gone insane! He’ll make us so much money! He’ll enhance our coordination tenfold!’”

  Rufus spat in Gavin’s face, but the telepath knew that if he tried to fight back or show any sort of defiance, it would be his blood that dripped to the floor. Rufus leaned an arm against the wall behind Gavin and whispered into the same ear he’d cut just a few days prior.

  “Some good people are dead because of your disease, Gavin.” Rufus studied his nails. “And our dear old Bernard really doesn’t take kindly to murder. This little trinket doesn’t even come close to making up for that.”

  Two of Rufus’s goons stepped forward, their expressions eager for violence. The wiry man with a scar running down his cheek pressed a wicked blade to Gavin’s neck.

  The shorter, stockier thug grabbed Gavin by the collar, slamming him against the rough stone wall. The impact sent a jolt of pain through his back, and he could smell the faint, metallic scent of his own blood.

  Rufus leaned in close, his hot, foul breath washing over Gavin’s face. “You owe us, Gavin. And until your debt is paid, you’re ours.”

  Gavin struggled against their hold, his mind racing.

  “Please, Rufus, give me more time.” Gavin hated that he begged, but it was all he had left.

  He didn’t fear these men so much as their master. He knew if he really tried, he’d be able to escape their clutches. Hells, he might even be able to partially shift and gouge out their innards. But that wasn’t what filled his limbs with dread.

  No.

  Their gold-ranked master was the one who he knew down to his deepest core that he could never escape.

  Bernard was a demon who hid behind a kind smile.

  “I—I’ll get you what you want,” Gavin promised. “I’ll get you all the gold in this gods-damned city if that’s what it takes to appease you bastards! Just give me time!”

  Rufus chuckled darkly, his eyes glinting with malice. “Time is running out. But I’ll give you one last chance. Bernard has had his eye on an item in the Lifekeeper vaults for years. You get it for us, and whatever else your team picks up there and maybe, just maybe, we’ll call it even.”

  Gavin winced as the goons tightened their grip, the pain from the blade and the stone wall intensifying. “What item?”

  “The Crystal Shard,” Rufus replied, his voice as cold as the steel pressed against Gavin’s throat. “It crystallizes common rocks into gemstones. The Lifekeepers locked it up due to its, well, illegal nature.”

  “You could never get those past a jeweler’s eye, Rufus. You must know that, right? They test for purity with enchanted items that make this spindle look like a simpleton’s device.” The scarred thug punched him in his sternum, and he heard something crack.

  Gavin’s teeth were bloodied, his breaths coming in short, painful gasps.

  “Oh, don’t you worry about that,” Rufus cooed maliciously. “Bernard has a very particular use for it. Nothing you need to worry yourself over, pup.”

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  Rufus’ yellowed smile filled with a dark mirth that had Gavin’s blood running cold even as it dripped from between his lips. So much for keeping it inside his body this time around.

  “Alright, I’ll get it. You know I will,” Gavin choked out.

  “If you were dependable, you wouldn’t be in this mess, now would you?” Rufus laughed back.

  The mustachioed man bent down and patted his swollen cheek, the gesture mockingly tender.

  “Bernard seems to like mangy pups, though, so you get to live a little longer. Don’t forget he wants whatever that Bloodsucker and the rest of his team grab too. We don’t care how. Just get it done,” Rufus commanded.

  The goons released him, but not before delivering a few more vicious kicks. Gavin crumpled to the ground, his body wracked with pain and humiliation.

  A part of him wished it was a full moon now, or that he had another one of those lunar stones Elena had offered him.

  As Rufus and his gang disappeared into the shadows, Gavin lay in a puddle of his own blood, beaten and miserable. The cold seeped into his bones, the pain a relentless reminder of his predicament. He felt a presence nearby and looked up to see Cade emerge from the darkness, his form almost ghostly in the dim light.

  Cade knelt beside him, his expression unreadable. “Well, at least this explains your cuts and poor choices in magical items.”

  Gavin’s heart sank further. “Are you here to kick me off the team?”

  Cade shook his head slowly, a faint smile playing on his lips.

  His hand went for something inside his tunic’s pocket and Gavin stiffened, expecting a knife. When Cade pulled out a thin piece of cloth, his bruised face twisted in confusion. With gentle dabs, Cade began to tend to his wounds.

  Gavin let himself be gently lifted into a seated position against the rough brick of the alley wall. More seconds passed as Cade took off his cloak and wrapped it around Gavin.

  “Stop, please,” Gavin said, each moment that the blonde man tended to his wounds was like a dagger in his side.

  Cade’s calloused hands halted where they hovered over a freshly tightened bandage.

  Gavin met his stormy blue eyes, his face silhouetted by the evening’s shadows. “Please. Just stop. Leave me here.”

  Cade didn’t budge. “Do you want out?”

  “What?” Gavin replied breathily, the question as abrupt as it was earnest.

  “Do you want out?” Cade asked again.

  “Of this shithole? Or of my… predicament?” Gavin clarified testily.

  Cade smirked from where he crouched in front of Gavin. “Yes.”

  “Of course,” he answered, though the bitterness he usually buried so well behind his charisma leaked out of his words. “But there’s nothing you can do, Cade. This is Bernard we’re talking about here. I know you’ve barely been in this city, but he’s not someone you can just run from.”

  Gavin coughed up a clump of blood, disgusted at how weak he felt.

  The telepath continued, “he’s nearly as well connected as the Lifekeepers, and has a network of loyalists farther than Mad Rosey’s smuggling empire. If I run from him, it will be with a target on my back for every headhunter from here to Greystone.”

  “But you do want out?” Cade repeated, unbothered by Gavin’s justifications. “Because I may have a way, but it will be quite risky, and very dangerous. But if we manage it, you won’t have to worry about Bernard or this fates-cursed city ever again.”

  “Yes,” he finally said.

  Gavin’s mind whirled with conflicting emotions. His eyebrows knit together as he took in the young man with fresh eyes.

  “What do you have in mind?” the lycanthrope asked.

  Cade’s grin widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Tell me what you know about the Stone Britches and the Night Ladies. What do you really know? No need to filter through what someone who isn’t connected to the thieving guilds might know or not know. It’s clear now that you have deeper ties than you let on. So…”

  Cade rose from his crouch.

  “What do you know?” The thief asked.

  Gavin hesitated, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him. But he knew this might be his only way out.

  “The Night Ladies’ Court is impenetrable,” he started slowly. “It’s a labyrinth of pleasure and debauchery. But while Bernard and Mad Rosey’s headquarters are strong, they are nothing like the Court. George employs courtesans with rare and exotic magics to manipulate and entrap minds. Entering that place is like giving up your wits and soul.”

  Cade listened intently, his expression serious. “You’ve been there, I take it?”

  Gavin wanted to deny it, but he knew that transparency was only going to aid him in this moment. Besides, Cade had discovered some of the worst of his secrets, and he was still willing to help. The telepath glanced at the new bandages across his body and made up his mind.

  He could trust this man.

  “I spent a few years there, yeah. I speak from experience when I say the measures they employ to keep people returning go beyond mere convention. Whatever George’s dominion is, it is hellishly effective for her line of work,” Gavin explained quickly, though his lungs ached for rest.

  “Alright,” Cade answered as he dusted off his tunic. “I’ll be asking you for more details later, but that can wait. It’s going to be tough, but I have a couple of ideas on how to get in and steal Rayka back from its depths. It will mean that you don’t get to choose what item you get from the Lifekeeper vaults, but you should still like what you need to get. It won’t be that Crystal Shard nonsense they were asking for, that’s for sure.”

  Cade held out his hand to the telepath, and he took it graciously.

  With an embarrassing slow gait, they began walking back toward the Twisted Oak as the glowflakes of the street illuminated their path. The breeze shifted, and Gavin could smell the salty tang of the ocean.

  For some reason, tonight it reminded him of his childhood dreams to sail away from this honeytrap of a city. They shuffled forward, and Gavin had to lean heavily on his team leader.

  His lifeline.

  His one way out.

  Each step was a painful reminder of the beating he had taken, but the thought of redemption and escape kept him moving. The streets were eerily quiet, the silence broken only by their footsteps and the occasional distant shout from the city’s nightlife.

  As they walked, Gavin asked, “So, what do you want me to request when we go to the vaults in the morning?”

  Cade smiled, a secretive glint in his eyes. “I’ve been reading up on Elysia’s history from those educational histories Jer gave me.”

  There was a long pause as Cade seemed to come to some sort of decision.

  “Aaaaand,” he added with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I might’ve also memorized the list the Lifekeepers gave us of what’s in their vaults.”

  Another long pause.

  “Have you ever heard of the Discord Dice?” Cade inquired in far too light a tone.

  Recognition lit up Gavin’s tired eyes.

  Oh, he knew the story. He had been barely eight years old when they were loosed upon this city.

  “You’re a mischievous one, Mr. Stormhollow,” Gavin complimented.

  Cade’s smile widened. “We’re going to need all the chaos we can get.”

  Gavin managed a weak chuckle, the sound rough and painful. The promise of chaos was a small comfort in the midst of his turmoil, but it was something to hold onto. As they approached the Twisted Oak, Gavin felt a flicker of hope amidst the pain.

  He had another chance, and he wasn’t going to waste it. Cade walked him to the front door, but didn’t join him inside.

  “Where are you going?” Gavin asked as he leaned a hand against the oily doorframe of the tavern.

  “Don’t worry about it. I have a few more things to do before we start planning our heists in earnest,” he said with a devious grin as he cracked his knuckles.

  “Heists? As in, plural?” Gavin guffawed.

  Cade merely winked at him. “I’ll be back in a bit. Then we have loads to discuss. Tell Orro to gather the team in three hours.”

  Gavin nodded and entered the dingy bar. Sure enough, Orro waited with a small glass of strong liquor at a table near the front entrance.

  “Good. He didn’t kill you, then,” Orro said as a way of greeting.

  “No, I guess he didn’t,” Gavin replied with a jolt of shock he immediately tried to play off as the chills.

  He sat down next to the darkly clad warrior, noting that the half mask he usually wore hung loose tonight around his neck, exposing the strong jaw of a truly handsome face. A petty part of Gavin hated him for this little revelation. He was competent and gorgeous.

  Typical.

  “Oh!” Gavin raised a finger in recollection. “Cade said to get everyone ready to talk in three hours.”

  “About?” Orro nursed his liquor as he continued his vigil on the front entrance.

  Gavin leaned in, all too aware of the sort of people who frequented this bar. “Heists?”

  Orro’s lips curled in the smallest hint of a smile Gavin had ever seen on a face, but it was there all the same. The warrior knocked back his glass and drank the foul liquid in one quick motion.

  Staring at the dry bottom of his cup, Orro said one word in reply, and for some reason, it sounded to Gavin like the promise of a great deal of bloodshed.

  “Excellent.”

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