Isilyn

  The moment Draeven Locke lifted his gaze to meet mine, I knew I wasn’t going to like him. He had the kind of presence that reeked of arrogance, the kind of man who knew he was important and enjoyed reminding others of it. He didn’t look surprised to see me either—like he’d been expecting this visit all along. That only made me hate him more.

  His fingers drummed lazily against the table’s edge, his expression unreadable but entirely too smug. “Took you long enough.”

  My dagger was back in my hand before I even thought about it. “You know who I am?”

  “I know you’re trouble.” He tilted his head, eyes dark with amusement. “And I know you’ve been looking for me. Question is, are you here to kill me or ask for my help?”

  I didn’t answer immediately. The truth was, I wasn’t sure. I’d spent weeks chasing down his name, months tracking whispers through back alleys and dead men’s pockets. I should’ve felt something—relief, maybe, or even satisfaction—but all I felt was the simmer of frustration, the gnawing sense that this was still too easy.

  But I did know one thing—I wasn’t the only one looking for him. And that meant time was running out. “You have information I need.”

  His lips curled slightly. “Everyone needs something from me.”

  My grip tightened around the dagger. “You’re going to give it to me.”

  Before I could decide whether to gut him or let him speak, the door behind me creaked open.

  I whirled, dagger raised, heart pounding.

  Two men stepped inside. Both armed. Both bloodied.

  And neither looking particularly pleased to see me.

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  Zarek

  The first thing I noticed was the woman. Silver-haired, violet-eyed, and standing as if she owned the damn room. The second thing I noticed was the dagger she had pointed at Locke. That earned a smirk.

  “Didn’t know we were interrupting something,” I said, stepping forward. Korrin was at my side, silent as ever, scanning the space with that watchful glare of his. He didn’t trust anyone, and I didn’t blame him.

  The woman’s gaze snapped to me, sharp and assessing. She didn’t flinch, didn’t falter. The way she carried herself—weight balanced just right, dagger held steady—told me she wasn’t new to this. “Who the fuck are you?”

  I folded my arms, matching her stance with a lazy shrug. “Depends. Who the fuck are you?”

  Locke let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. “Enough, children. If you’re all here, then you’re all looking for the same thing.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “That so?”

  Locke leaned back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Draeven Locke, fixer of problems, keeper of secrets. And right now, it seems you all have problems that conveniently lead to me.”

  The woman wasn’t lowering her weapon. I didn’t blame her. Something about Locke made my skin itch, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted answers from him or to drive a blade into his ribs just to see if he bled like the rest of us.

  Then the door creaked open again.

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  Dravena

  The second I stepped inside, I knew I’d walked into a shitstorm.

  My shoulder throbbed from the fight, but that wasn’t what had my attention. Three sets of eyes turned to me the moment I entered—one belonging to Locke, two belonging to people I didn’t recognize. But I sure as hell recognized the tension in the air.

  Locke sighed. “Well. Now that we’re all here.”

  The woman had a dagger drawn, standing too close to Locke to be friendly. The man with dark hair had the stance of a street fighter, and the taller one beside him looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

  I had half a mind to turn around and walk right back out. But I wasn’t here to make friends. I was here for answers.

  Locke’s gaze landed on me. “You’re bleeding.”

  “No shit.”

  The other woman was watching me now, her grip on the dagger firm but not reckless. A fighter. Good. I liked knowing what I was dealing with.

  Locke gestured to the room. “Why don’t we all sit before someone gets stabbed?”

  I didn’t move. Neither did the other two.

  This was going to be a fucking disaster.