Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 127026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
“Indeed,” Delle said. Her gaze shifted to Prescott and back. “I will do as commanded.”
“Do not fear Netta. I have already given her the same instructions.”
Delle bowed again. They opened the cell, and Delle looped magical-dampening chains around Prescott’s wrists. Prescott looked ready to object, but he was a broken male. He went without complaint.
Kerrigan looked up at Fordham once he was out of earshot. “A trap?”
“Assuredly.”
“We can’t just walk into it.”
“Do we have another choice?”
Kerrigan sighed. “I wish Valia were here to advise us.”
“But she is not. There are no magic solutions here. We have to go to that meeting. Prescott is right about one thing. The Father deserves to pay.”
“We’ll need reinforcements if we hope to go up against them,” Kerrigan said. “I’ll have to talk to Helly …”
Fordham froze and cocked his head.
“What?” she asked.
“I have an idea.”
“Now, you’re starting to sound like me.”
He grinned. “You’re not going to like it in the least.”
47
THE PLAN
The Wastes was as busy as ever when Kerrigan and Fordham stopped in front of the enormous underground building. Dozens came in and out of the first-floor gambling hall, but she was sure that the prostitutes’ halls, drug dens, and fighting floor were just as packed. With so many in town for the festivities, money and booze was freely flowing.
“You’re right. I don’t like this,” Kerrigan grumbled.
“It’s a solid plan.”
“We’ll see.”
Together, they entered the Wastes. Kerrigan had changed out of her Society garb since it was hardly welcome in these parts and into pants and a top. Her hair was loose and down past her shoulders. Today, she wasn’t a princess or Society member or council nominee. She was Red, the street fighter.
Fordham, however, had refused to change out of his black silk. He stuck out like a sore thumb. But that was fine too. Everyone knew who she was regardless of what she was wearing.
A hush fell over the crowd as they stepped inside. She might as well have been wearing her Society attire for all it mattered. But when she walked in here, she liked to be the person she had once been.
It brought a smile to her face to see Clover behind a card table. Lately, Kerrigan had only seen her at Fae functions with Hadrian. It had to be hard to live both lives.
Clover shuffled the deck and then handed out cards, as if she barely noticed her best friend enter her employment. “Call or fold?” she demanded.
Her eyes cut daggers across the room, and slowly, everything went back to normal. Kerrigan waited until the hand was finished before walking up to Clover’s side. Clover called over a floor boss and accepted the heavy tips before dipping out.
“What are you doing here?” Clover demanded.
“Can’t come say hi to my friend?”
Clover shot her a look. But Kerrigan just nodded her toward the upward stairs. There was only one thing above the rest of the Wastes, and that was Dozan Rook.
Clover sighed. “Fine. Let’s go.”
She barreled through the crowd and pushed aside the guard that kept anyone from taking the stairs to Dozan’s private residence. As if they could stop Kerrigan and Fordham from entering.
“I’ve missed you,” Kerrigan told Clover as they ascended the stairs.
“Me bossing everyone around?”
“Pretty much.” Kerrigan smirked at her. “I talked to Darby.”
Clover’s smile turned genuinely pleased. “Yeah?”
“I’m happy for you.”
Clover grinned. “Thanks.” She banged on the door to Dozan’s quarters. “Open up, Dozan. I know you’re in there. You have a visitor.”
It was strange enough that Dozan hadn’t materialized before her as soon as she entered. He seemed to have a sixth sense for when she was there. Or he had an alert set up with his spies. But he almost always appeared when she least wanted him to. Now that she wanted to see him, he wasn’t even answering.
“Dozan,” Kerrigan grumbled, slamming her fist on the door. “I’m going to come in.”
The door slid open seamlessly. “Red,” he purred. Dozan’s shirt was undone at the top two buttons, and his cravat was missing. A bottle of liquor dangled between his fingers, and his hair was tousled. “Can I help you?”
She flushed at the look that she knew all too well. “Need your help.”
He scoffed. “Can’t afford me, princess.”
“I’ll owe you.”
“Do you know how much you already owe me?”
Kerrigan rolled her eyes. “Can we get past the pretense and just move on to what I need and how you’re going to help me?”
Dozan met her gaze and then nodded. “Fine.” He looked up at Fordham. Something dark passed between them. Hate but understanding. “You too, I suppose?”
Fordham crossed his arms.
Dozan sighed, pushing the door wide. “Come on in.”
Clover squeezed Kerrigan’s hand. “Good luck.” Then, she headed back down the stairs to her job.
They stepped into Dozan’s quarters, which, despite his unkempt appearance, was spotless. Whoever had recently been in his bed was there no longer and had left no trace behind.