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“I think you could run this island,” he says calmly, ignoring my threat like it meant nothing to him. “Make Magda bow before you, if you play your cards right.” Crafty bastard, shifting the conversation like I won’t notice.

My lips barely move. “I’m aware.”

Silas starts pacing behind the desk. “I’m offering you more than coin, Neressa. I’m offering you power, territory, and command.” He pauses, then adds, “Freedom.” The word hits harder than the rest and he knows it. I have always wanted a life of my own. To exist without being told who to kill or where to go.

He finally turns to me, watching. “Magda’s yours if you want it, darling. I’ve already pulled the strings. The locals fear my name. Soon enough, they’ll fear yours, too.” A beat passes as everything becomes clear. He’s not promoting me, he’s giving me permission.

I rise from the chair, slow and steady. “And what exactly do you want in return?”

His eyes harden like steel. “Loyalty.”

I step closer. “I’ve never failed you, Silas,” I say, “but don’t confuse loyalty with submission. And if you trick me, in any way, just remember I’m not afraid of you, darling.” His smile twitches briefly. He loves the back and forth. No one else but me dares to do this dance with him.

I reach for the pouch of gold and tuck it into my belt. “If they fear your name…” I meet his eyes. “They’ll worship mine. And so will you.”

He holds his stance, strong and confident, but his silence says more than any threat can. “I’ll be watching you,” he says. “Don’t make the wrong move.”

I give him a lazy smile, then turn my back. The fire has started to blaze, fighting against the cold. I walk out, leaving the door open behind me.

Chapter two

Four Years Later

The stairs creak as I descend, my boots echoing against the rotting wood. Lanterns sway on rusted hooks, casting jagged shadows along the stone walls. Smoke curls up from the cracks in the floorboards. It reeks of salt, rum, and pirate ego.

At the base of the stairs, the splintered door stands waiting, scarred from years of fists desperate to get in. I don’t have to knock. My presence is felt. A small rectangular window slides open near the top of the door. A pair of bloodshot eyes meets mine before the latch clicks and the door groans open.

Inside, the Underground rumbles like a storm waiting to break.

They whisper my name when I walk through the door, the hush scattering across the Underground. Above us, Pebble’s Pub is loud, always spilling over with drunk townsfolk, pirates, and lively bards.

Down here, beneath the floorboards of the seaside city, the game is different. Down here, I’m not just a name. I am law. And if you’re ever brought down here with your name inked on a blood mark, prepare your last words and pray to whatever god you believe in. Because you won't be leaving alive.

Smugglers, pirates, and merchants mingle, all with their cloaks pulled low. All of them are gamblers, whether they know it or not. Laughter echoes, low and mean. Gold clinks like teeth in a lion’s maw. Men hunch over their tables, clinging to riches and pride, but when they see me, they still. As I walk past, each of them tries to catch a glance. The moment I’ve passed, they return to their drinks and their games.

My eyes roam for the person I’ve come here to meet. I don’t have to search very long before I find him waiting, standing at the bar.

Maddoc Brine. A young member of the Royal Guard of Vespera and, even more intriguing, a partner in underground dealings. At twenty-one, he’s only a year older than me, but cunning and better with a blade than most men twice his age. Every arrangement we’ve made has left me satisfied. In more ways than one.

He wasn’t what I expected when the royals we were in league with sent him to negotiate. I assumed he’d be a polished pawn, stiff and spineless like the others they’d tried to send, most of whom I eventually killed. But he walked into Magda like he belonged here, with sharp eyes and an even sharper smile. He spoke my name like it was something worth defending, even after only our first meeting where he learned what I do for a living. That was three years ago.

Since that first day he stepped into Magda on secret royal orders, he’s been impossible to shake. Not just because he’s useful, but because with every deal and every glance, he makes things easy when they should be hard. He always has my back, no matter who’s watching. No matter if it gets him killed, he always puts me first. Plus, they just kept sending him over to see me.

I cross the floor toward the dimly lit bar where he waits, leaning my elbows lazily against the dark wood. “Maddoc,” I say smoothly. “You got here before me, I’m impressed.” Amusement laces my tone.

For someone as self-aware as he is, he tends to be late, a massive pet peeve of mine that would’ve gotten most men killed by now. But Maddoc has earned my patience. “I like to keep you on your toes, Nes.” I smile at the nickname he gave me the day we met. Most men would have run after the glare I’d given him when he did, but not Maddoc.

He’s beautiful in that way that kills you slowly, his sandy blond hair always perfectly cut and the scent of pine and salt strong on his skin. He’s over a foot taller than me, all quiet muscle and sharp lines. And those eyes, dark brown and endlessly unreadable, notice everything. His voice is warm and smooth like cognac. Slow and dangerous. It melts me.

“Mhmm,” I reply. The bartender slides a small glass of rum toward me and I take it without looking, never breaking eye contact with Maddoc. I toss back the drink in one go. “Shall we?” I ask, motioning lazily at the entrance that leads deeper into the Underground. My lair. My sanctuary.

He stands in one fluid movement, nodding slowly, then gestures for me to lead. Cute. I don’t let anyone walk behind me, ever. Leaving your back exposed in this world is like bleeding in shark-infested waters.

I step to the side with a smile, “Nice try, love. You first.” Then I slip behind him, the curve of my lips saying what words don’t need to. He catches the message. He knows exactly what kind of game we are playing, and he likes it. He always does.

He reaches the door first, then turns to face me. A flicker of something passes between us. I pull the key from the chain around my neck and slide it into the lock. The steel door groans open with a soft clink, revealing nothing but pitch black beyond it. The scent of home, of me, hits me instantly—cinnamon and steel.

I step in without hesitation. Darkness has never scared me. I was born into and shaped by bloodlines that never needed the sun to see. The night doesn’t hide things from me the way it does for others.