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We follow.
“Take a seat,” Christy says, pointing to the table situated nearest to the bar, at the head of which Grim sits.
She’s relaxed despite the tension permeating the room; Grim is the kind of person who commands respect with her presence. As the owner of Tales fight club, and Christy’s older half-sister, Grim is well known in criminal circles. We’ve crossed paths on numerous occasions over the years. The last time we saw each other was the same night we called in Cyn’s debt, and Grim rescued her sister from The Masks.
Or so she had thought.
But just like us, Grim had been lied to. I wonder how she reacted when she found out her sister was fucking the very men who kidnapped her? Not well, I imagine. In fact I’m shocked that she even let them live.
“Gentlemen,” Grim says, pointing to the row of seats to her left, the silver chain at her neck glinting in the overhead light. She wears a black leather jacket with studs at the collar, fingerless gloves on her hands and her long brown hair pulled back off her face in a high ponytail. She’s a beautiful woman, and deadly.
“Where are they?” Lorcan asks tightly, dragging out a chair and sitting down like the rest of us.
“They’re here. I wanted a word first,” she replies, resting her hand over Beasts when he stands behind her and squeezes her shoulder.
“Then speak, because time isn’t on our side,” Carrick orders.
Beast’s jaw grits, his fingers tightening on Grim’s shoulder at Carrick’s demand. She simply pats his hand then leans forward in her seat whilst he glares daggers at us all from behind her.
“You and I both know that this meeting will be tense. I understand your anger better than anyone,” she says, glancing at Christy who’s quietly watching us all. “The Masks took my sister from me after all. But for better or worse, Jakub, Leon and Konrad are the men Christy loves. They’re her family, and in turn that makes them mine too. I protect my family at all costs. Understand?”
Her eyes flick upwards to the three men standing on the walkway high above us, their sniper rifles fixed on our heads. Deathly silence hangs in the air, each of them ready to end our lives with a single shot.
Lorcan leans back in his seat, and nods. “Yes, we understand completely.”
The edge to his voice is more a message to me than to anyone else. He thinks I’ve made the wrong move coming here, trusting these people, and seeking The Masks’ help. But he doesn’t know what I know. He hasn’t seen the sketch I drew the night he sewed up Carrick’s face and I left them asleep in his bed, exhausted from the events of that night.
Wewillfail without them.
There is only one way to get Cyn back alive, and that’s teaming up with The Masks.
“Despite our history, we’re not here to fight,” I say, casting a determined look at Carrick and Lorcan who simply clench their jaws and nod.
“Good," Beast interjects, “Because we can’t have your blood ruining the furniture. The last time I blew a man’s brains out it took the clean-up crew weeks to get this place sparkling. Malik Brov was a dirty bastard in death as much as he was in life. We kept finding little pieces of him for weeks after.” He hesitates, then pulls a face. “Come to think of it, we should look into getting a better clean-up crew. Got any suggestions?”
No one answers, but Beast’s levity serves as a reminder that it was Grim who gave the command to end our enemy's life. We owe them respect for that, at least.
“You arenotour enemies,” Grim reiterates. “But The Masks are our family now, and Christy is my blood. One wrong move and this is over.” It’s a final warning to remind us she means business.
I don’t doubt her threat.
“They won’t go back on their word,” Christy says softly, her gaze fixed on mine knowingly.
There’s a tug in my chest, the familiar pull of the Dálaighs’ gift tightening between us as she stares at me. She isn’t just saying that in the hope it will come true, she already knows.
She’sseenit.
“I have some understanding of The Masks’ and Christy’s story thanks to Cyn,” I explain, recalling Cyn’s neat words written across the pages of her recipe book, “And therefore I appreciate what’s at stake here, for them as much as us.”
“How so?” Christy asks, her curiosity piqued.
“From her recipe book,” Lorcan explains. “She detailed your love story within it.”
“Really?” She frowns, her gaze slipping from Lorcan’s and meeting mine.
“Yes. She documented everything that happened during her stay at Ardelby Castle.”
“So then you know about the letters from my mother?”
