hearts of metal

xvi. good, isn't she?

"Not bad, doll," came the voice from behind her.

Aelin scoffed and turned to meet Archer Finn's sleazy smirk. Blood currently dripped down her knuckles into the tiles.

"You up for more of a challenge this time?"

"Bring it on," she said. It'd been a week since she'd come to the Guild, and she was itching for a fight. Or, a second one, she supposed.

So when Archer gestured grandly to the figure climbing into the ring, she shrugged and dove back in.

Rowan's hand drifted to the gun tucked underneath his jacket, before dropping to his side. He glanced around the hungry crowd, crammed together around a makeshift ring.

He hated this place. But Rhoe's orders were orders, and Rowan had the misfortune of having to come here for intel.

The crowd started to clamor, pushing forwards, and his focus shifted.

A figure clambered into the ring, a beefy man with a scar tracing his eye. A few seconds passed, then the man's opponent joined.

He felt his heart stop. The figure up there was instantly familiar to him, even half hidden under the black hoodie. All it took was that stance and that glimpse of golden blonde hair. What the fuck was Aelin Galathynius doing here?

The fight started. Rowan had to force his limbs to be still as he watched the man stalk around her, his smirk widening. The man threw a strong punch, which Aelin dodged smoothly. Yet his panic didn't ease, only heightened.

He fought to keep his face neutral as the fight began in earnest. The man moved again. His fist flew, but Aelin was too fast.

Rowan frowned as he watched her avoid him. She wasn't fighting back. She was playing with him.

Increasingly agitated, the man growled and stormed towards her. Aelin ducked under his arm, twisting it sharply. With a howl, the man thrust his elbow back. Aelin moved just before it crashed into her nose.

"Good, isn't she?" a vaguely familiar voice asked.

Rowan turned his head slightly, schooling his face into boredom. "I've seen better," he said with a shrug. He'd never seen anyone quite that...fast. She was good, really good, but it was best to act as if he wasn't interested.

He tried to turn his attention back to the fight, while subtly examining the man's features. Young and handsome, with brown hair and eyes. Where did he recognize him from?

Despite his growing irritation, he tried to watch the fight. His eyes tracked every move, punch, kick.

The man snorted. "Sure. But someone that hot?" The man's eyes were fixed on Aelin in a way that made Rowan's blood boil. And as it did, realization struck Rowan. It was the same person who had cornered Aelin at that party.

Rowan's fist tightened, before he released it. He felt fury ripple through him, not just at the man's words, but at the fact that the man was distracting him from the fight.

A cheer from the crowd snapped the men's attention back to the ring. Aelin had gotten in a sound punch, for blood was now pouring down the man's nose into his mouth. He spat at Aelin, his mouth forming the clear word bitch, even from the distance and grainy light.

Blood splattering onto Aelin's cheek, which she slowly wiped off.

That was her opponent's final mistake. Within seconds, the man, probably twice her weight, was laying flat on the grimy floor.

The crowd cheered. Rowan was consciously aware of his lungs finally easing out a slow breath.

The brown haired man left Rowan's side to stalk over to where Aelin was climbing out of the ring. He slung his arm around her, before leading her away through the clamoring crowd.

They passed Rowan, the man winking at him. Aelin's eyes rose for a second, meeting his from a few feet away. Her face showed no sign of recognition, only hardening at the sight of him.

Rowan's own gaze was stony, jaw clenched at the man's arm slung over hers.

But she didn't push him away. Instead, she murmured, "let's get a drink."

"Sure, Lil," he said. They then vanished from the room, leaving Rowan with his swirling emotions.

Aelin was leaning against a brick wall outside the Guild. She heard footsteps approaching and knew who it was without turning.

"Buzzard," she greeted.

"Lil," he said mockingly. She turned to find him sneering at her, much like he used to when they first met.

She laughed humorlessly. "We should at least do this someplace else."

He hesitated, then nodded and set off. She followed, assuming he knew this city better than her.

They snuck down empty alleyways, up and over a chain fence, till they reached an abandoned warehouse.

She raised an eyebrow as they reached, but Rowan ignored her and opened the door silently.

The inside was surprisingly nice, free of dust and spiders. As if it was frequently used, despite being empty.

"We meet here sometimes," he said gruffly.

"We?" she asked sweetly. "Rowan Whitethorn, what the fuck are you involved in?"

"I should be asking you that," he snapped. He ran a hand through his hair, looking frazzled. "You have this gods damned alter ego you're running with?"

Aelin felt a stab of guilt. It wasn't like they told her everything, yet...this was supposed to be a fresh start. And she'd fallen into the same rabbit hole, letting her past swallow her up. If this was how Rowan reacted, how would her father and brother react?

Instead of apologizing, she lifted her chin up. She had always found anger to be a better mask and infinitely more useful than remorse. "Because everything's my fault? I chose to get separated from my family? I chose to get adopted by someone who only wanted to use me?"

Rowan stilled. "Was he the one who hurt you?"

"No," she said, then scoffed. "What I told you about my scars was the truth. What I didn't tell you was that he knew where I was and never tried to get me out. He left me there to rot. Punishment, I suppose, for not being as obedient as he would have liked," she answered bitterly.

His shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Ace," he said, using Vaughan's nickname for her with surprising fondness.

Her eyebrow rose. "For what?"

When he didn't answer, she continued, "I'll answer your questions if you answer mine."

He nodded, before sitting down against a wall. "Who taught you to fight like that?"

"My foster father." Aelin sat down beside him, legs stretched out. She considered just how much to tell him, before deciding to bare the truth. "His name was Arobynn Hamel."

Rowan immediately stiffened, his shoulder brushing hers. So he recognized the name. "Not possible," he stammered.

"His name was Eric Sardothien for all legal purposes, but Arobynn was his real name. Or maybe it wasn't, but it was certainly the truer of the two. How have you heard about him?"

"He's pretty well known. We haven't exactly come across him ourselves, but-"

"We?"

"Your brother and father, and the rest of the cadre, as you call us," he admitted.

"And the family business?"

"You could say we run in similar, but separate circles as Hamel. But really, I would rather you hear it from Rhoe."

She rolled her eyes. "Tell me," she said.

Perhaps she should have anticipated it. And yet, the words sucked the air out of her.

"We're in the mafia."