“But that’s ridiculous—”
“Everyone! Everyone!” Worner Prescott’s high-pitched voice echoed shrilly through the room. He clinked a spoon against his glass, and the party fell silent. “We’ve just received some disturbing news on the radio. There’s been an anonymous tip about a threat on Revolution Bridge, and it’s been cordoned off for the foreseeable future. If you need to make new arrangements to return home, the attendants will be more than happy to assist you.”
“Ooh,” Poppy whispered to them. “This is exciting.”
Enne met Lola’s eyes warily, and she knew her second was thinking the same thing. This had to be connected to Levi somehow.
“I’m sorry,” Enne said, quickly getting up. “But we need to leave. That’s where we’ve been staying...” She cleared her throat and added, “Terrible hotel mix-up.”
“You won’t stay longer?” Poppy pleaded. “There are other ways to cross the Brint.”
“We’ll be here next time,” she assured her, and kissed both of Poppy’s cheeks in farewell. As they made their way toward the door, Enne stealthily stuffed a dozen crumpets in her purse, beside the pocket where she kept her gun.
Grace tried to wink at her, but she was so drunk that she actually just blinked both eyes. “I guess it’s showtime.”
JAC
Jac crept down the stairs of his apartment building, a carpet bag stuffed with his meager belongings slung over his shoulder.
He opened the door onto Tropps Street and came face-to-face with Sophia Torren.
She eyed the bag. “You’re in a hurry.”
He was, because he’d been hoping to avoid her. It didn’t matter who she was or what she wanted—as soon as Jac found a pay phone, he would call Harrison Augustine, and he would leave the Torren Empire behind.
Sophia flipped a coin into the air and closed it in her fist. She peeked at it between cupped fingers and smiled.
“You know where I live now?” Jac grunted.
“Now?” She gave him a pitying look. “I’ve known where you live for weeks.” She reached into her pocket and tossed him something black—a ski mask.
He scoffed. “I don’t have time for this.” He shoved the mask back into her hands and stormed off.
Sophia grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back. “So that’s your decision? To leave?”
“What decision?” Jac demanded hotly. “You act as though I have any information. As though anything you told me or showed me last night makes sense. All I know is that you’re a Torren, and you want my help. And I say no.” He brushed past her, and she scrambled to block his path.
“Don’t make me—”
“What? Blackmail me?” he asked darkly.
“If that’s what it takes.”
“Why are you doing this?” Any of the others at Liver Shot would be happy to help her. Where she went, they followed. “Why me?”
“Because...you’reJac Mardlin. Your smile is plastered on wanted posters all over the North Side. You’resomeone.”
Jac possessed his fair share of vices, but rarely did anyone try to appeal to his pride. He was only famous as an extension of someone else. Everything he’d done for this job, he’d done for Levi.
The ones who never wanted to be players.That was how Lola described the two of them. That was who he was; the periphery of someone else’s story. And never, not once in his life, had anyone ever thought of him otherwise.
He’d never realized until this moment how much he wanted someone to.
“Just let me explain,” Sophia pleaded. She was clearly not used to begging—her face could barely hold the expression.
Jac was intrigued, but not enough to change his mind. “You lied to me about who you were.”
She crossed her arms. “And you didn’t?” She took an intimidating step closer to him, and Jac pressed his back against the brick wall. “Playing it safe isn’t really playing at all. And that’s what you want to do, isn’t it? To play?”
