THE RED RIGHT HAND ─ kaz brekker

𝘪𝘪𝘪. 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰

iii. women like hunting witches too 

ketterdam, kerch

──KAZ'S HUNGER FOR THIS JOB NAILED A BOUNTY TO THEIR HEADS. There were few people that dared to slip and slither around the heels and behind the back of Pekka Rollins. The ones that did, however, were either too ignorant to realize what they were getting themselves into, or far too desperate or arrogant for their own good. Kaz Brekker was a different story. Kaz Brekker was angry. Kaz Brekker was angry and desperate and willing to push the line into a malformed insanity if it meant taking even a sliver from Pekka Rollins and his Dime Lions. What Astrid did not realize, however, was how this supposed sliver was slowly widening into a gaping hole. 

"Look, just stay here for a few nights. Keep your head down and eyes open," Astrid spoke as she shoved a rusted, bent key into a shoddy lock. The key turned and the lock sprung free with a brief catch. She shoved the door open and glanced back at the Heartrender at her shoulder, holding the key up for her to take. "The Orchid won't be safe for a while, like we said." 

Milana surveyed the key, then plucked it from Astrid's fingers. She was hard pressed to listen to Astrid or Kaz after Dreesen had killed Alexei right in front of her. The journey to the inn was quiet, but Astrid didn't mind. She preferred it that way. "My boss," she started, eyeing Astrid skeptically. "Do you really believe he's dead?" 

"I know he is." Astrid grasped the edges of her hood and pulled it over her head. "And unless you'd like to join him, I'd suggest heeding our advice. Take your chance and get the hell out of Ketterdam." 

With those parting words, Astrid brushed around her and descended the rickety staircase at the end of the hall,  leaving Milana standing in the hallway, staring after her retreating silhouette. She slipped out of the inn and onto the bustling streets. Even at this time, the cobblestone streets were still crowded with activity and vendors, hagglers, and steerers. Pulling her face covering up over her nose, Astrid briefly surveyed her surroundings, then seamlessly disappeared into a passing crowd that carried her the rest of the way down the street, to a cut off in an alleyway that would lead her to the Crow Club outside of the usual routes taken by tourists and locals. 

A shadow at the edge of her vision caught her eye as she ventured into the narrow alley. She kept moving even as an uneasy swirl started in the pit of her stomach. It was bold for anyone to walk Ketterdam, or the Barrel, alone. But Astrid had done so for years, a testament to her reputation and confidence within such dangerous and callous streets and back alleys. 

Astrid took a turn out of the alley, hurried over the next street, slipped between a few street vendors peddling their goods, then into another discreet section between buildings. The shadow caught her periphery again, closer this time. She heard their footsteps then, distant above the sounds of the rain, but there nonetheless. Flames lapped at her fingers as she spun toward her shadowy stalker. The light of the fire banished the thick shadows and the man tailing her paused, a few yards away. She spotted the tattoo on his forearm a split second before a body collided into hers from behind-- a feral cat curled atop a crown. Dime Lions. And there were two of them.