𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒-Kaz Brekker

𝐈𝐈.

𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑: 𝐈𝐈.

Near the center of the Barrel sits the Crow Club. Inside the Crow Club sits a bar, lined with stools, and tables full of men playing cards. Sitting in one of those bar stools is young Raisa Novikov. She leans on her elbows, head resting in her palm. The heartbeats of the people crowding the building fill her head, agonizingly loud, making her hands shake as she picks up a pint of some foul liquor, gulping down a drink.

The establishment is run by one Kaz Brekker, the Bastard of the Barrel, Dirtyhands. Raisa has never had the pleasure of meeting him, but she must admit, the Crow Club is a sight to behold. Even despite the noise and the chaos she finds comfort in the cheap liquor and the smell of old wood.

Raisa has lived in Ketterdam for a year's time and in a year, she has come to know the many players of the great game. Kaz Brekker, of course, is one of them, with two underlings by the names of Inej Ghafa and Jesper Fahey.

Pekka Rollins is another, the leader of the Dime Lions, owner of the Emerald Palace, which just happens to be where Raisa committed her grievous crime not three weeks ago.

Head down, back bent, eyes low.

If Tante Heleen, owner of the Menagerie, had any clue of Raisa's existence, she would sink her claws into the girl immediately. Not just for her looks, but for her power, as well. A Heartrender in the Barrel is something special, and the only other Grisha Raisa knows the existence of in Ketterdam is owned by the Orchid, a brothel. Another Heartrender just like her, though Raisa knows for certain the girl wasn't trained at the Little Palace. As far as Raisa's knowledge spans, she's the most powerful thing in the Barrel right now.

And that is dangerous.

She jumps at the sound of footsteps advancing on the bar. Just another patron, her thoughts scream out. Nothing to worry about, nothing- -

Something to worry about.

"I've heard you were spotted at the Emerald Palace, doing something that looked remarkably Grisha-like."

She's tense. Her muscles are stretched thin as trapeze wires, ready to send her sprinting through the club and out onto the street. She lets out a weak chuckle, not turning to look her inquisitor in the eye. "Seems like you've got bad information, then."

"I don't think so."

She can't see him. She can't do anything. Can't slow down his breathing enough that she can turn tail and bolt while he catches his breath. Can't kill him.