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Sex work didn’t happen at Ruby’s, it was strictly a dance club for people to go to have fun. It was even one of the few establishments that weren’t open till the crack of dawn, closing without fail every night at midnight.
“There’s no discernable pattern,” Vetle continued, “but we know it’s the same culprit because it was the same M.O as last time. She was drugged with Magic Mirror and then beaten. Whoever did it told her she was being punished for not being good enough. Whatever that means.”
Someone was trying to mess with Odin, he was sure of it. There was a message here, they just weren’t seeing it.
“We’ve sent a team out to investigate. They haven’t returned with anything useful. This attack took place in a hallway off the main room. There are many exits to choose from there, so they could have gotten out of the building any number of ways.”
“Keep searching,” Odin ordered.
“There’s another complication, sir.” When Odin looked at him Vetle’s frown was still in place. “One of the guests called the cops. The report was made before any of our people could stop them. They might wish to speak with you about the matter.”
He snorted. Sixpence police were useless. If they wanted to speak with him about anything, he was damn certain it had little to do with an investigation into attacks in the Red Light district. Though they were paid off, there were always one or two heroes amongst them who thought they stood a chance.
“Tell them I’m busy and answer any of their questions yourself.” Odin waved him off the subject. “Anything else?”
“This came for you.” Vetle reached into his back pocket and pulled out an envelope. It was gold with a pale blue wax seal in the center. The sharp points of a frost flower printed on the seal.
Frost’s family symbol.
“Send our reply,” he ordered, taking the envelope between two bloodstained fingers. Typically, he wore gloves when he did work like this, but tonight, his mind had been elsewhere, and he hadn’t bothered.
“Yes, sir. I’ll decline—”
“I’m going.” This year Odin had a reason to step foot back into that house. A reason to confront all the ghosts and demons that haunted the place where he and generations of his family had been born and raised. “Tell them I’ll be bringing a plus one.”
The gala was in a week. Hunter should be healed by then.
“Sir,” Vetle hesitated.
“This was always the plan,” Odin reminded. “What’s the point of finding him if I don’t use him?” He wanted to get a rise out of Isa, wanted to rub in his face his failed assassination attempt from all those years ago. He’d been waiting for this invitation to come for weeks.
So why was he hesitant?
He sent a sideways look toward Vetle. Even he could tell.
“This is a risk, sir,” Vetle began tentatively, clearly fearing overstepping. “Frost will take it as an affront.”
“That’s exactly what I’m hoping for,” Odin clarified. He scrutinized the underboss, noting his slicked-back hair and the pressed charcoal suit he was in. Before, Vetle had been another low-level thug on the streets, but when Odin had been injured by Hunter, he’d been one of the ones to take him in and hide him while he healed. “You, of all people, should understand why this is so important.”
“I do,” he said, “of course. It’s just…”
“Spit it out,” Odin ordered, already tired of this back and forth. Between him and Corbi, it was starting to feel like his people were losing trust in him and his ability to keep his shit together.
Odin didn’t like that.
“Frost has wanted to reclaim this branch for a long time. The only reason he’s kept the tentative peace this long is because he knows you have Wren’s backing and half the police force in your pocket. If he takes your appearance as a sign that you’re finally ready to go to war—”
“Are you opposed to a war, V?”
“That isn’t it.” Vetle’s gaze hardened. “If we’re taking down the Frost family, I’m with you. But the rest of the plan—”
Odin waved off his concerns. “We’re close enough. Did you deliver the contract to Michael’s?”
Vetle nodded.
He’d placed an anonymous bid for one of the high rises on the North side of Sixpence—right on the edge of Frost territory. It wasn’t the first, but it was close to the last. Just a couple more buildings and Odin would legally own a large chunk of that part of the capital. So far, there’d been nothing from Isa, no retaliation or a request for a meeting, so Odin assumed that he’d successfully flown under the radar.
With Hunter, his attack would be different. Head on.
