Victor pulled his tunic tighter against the evening chill as he approached the warehouse district. The cobblestones beneath his boots were slick with moisture from the harbor, and the air carried the sharp tang of salt and rotting fish.
The warehouse Grisha had specified stood apart from the others—newer construction, with iron-reinforced doors and windows set too high for easy access. Victor noted the strategic positioning. Someone with money had chosen this location carefully.
Two men loitered near the entrance, their casual stance not quite hiding the weapons beneath their coats. A third figure emerged from the shadows as Victor approached, a lean woman with calculating eyes and a crossbow slung across her back.
"You the new meat?" The woman's voice carried a slight accent Victor couldn't place.
"Depends who's asking."
She looked him up and down, then shrugged. "Name's Vera. That's Harkon" she jerked her chin toward a burly man with graying temples "and the twitchy one is Finn."
Finn, barely out of his teens by the look of him, offered a nervous wave. Harkon simply grunted and continued picking at his fingernails with a dagger.
Victor nodded to each in turn. "Victor Kaiser."
"Grisha's pit fighter," Vera said. It wasn't a question. "Heard you put on quite a show last night."
"Word travels fast."
"Blood and money always do." She gestured toward the warehouse doors. "Come on. Job starts in an hour, but the client wanted to meet her protection first."
Her. Victor filed that detail away as they moved inside.
The warehouse interior had been converted into something resembling luxury, Persian rugs covered sections of the stone floor, and silk curtains hung from temporary partitions. Someone had invested serious coin in making this place presentable for whatever was about to happen.
Finn fell into step beside Victor as they walked deeper into the space. The kid's nervous energy was almost palpable.
"First time working a job like this?" Finn asked, voice pitched low.
"What kind of job is this?"
Finn glanced around, then leaned closer. "Noble lady. Real high-class type. Word is she's meeting someone her family wouldn't approve of."
Victor raised an eyebrow. "Secret lover?"
"Maybe. Or maybe something worse." Finn's eyes darted to Vera and Harkon, who were examining the perimeter. "Name's Selene D'Argent. Merchant lord's daughter. You know the type,silver spoon, silk dresses, probably never walked through the Warrens in her life."
The name tickled something in Victor's memory. D'Argent, he'd heard it whispered in taverns, always with a mixture of respect and resentment. Old money, the kind that bought influence in the Guild halls and city council chambers.
"What's she doing in a place like this?"
Finn shrugged. "Above my pay grade. But I heard she's engaged to some duke's nephew. Political marriage, all very proper." He grinned. "Makes you wonder what she's really up to, doesn't it?"
Victor's mind began working through possibilities. A noble lady slumming in the warehouse district, meeting someone in secret while her bodyguards stood watch. Either she was spectacularly naive, or she was playing a deeper game than appearances suggested.
"How long you been doing this work?"
"Few months. Vera brought me in after I helped her out of a scrape." Finn's chest puffed slightly with pride. "She says I got good instincts."
Victor glanced at the woman in question, who was now arguing with Harkon about sight lines and escape routes. Her movements were efficient, professional. Someone who'd survived long enough to develop opinions about tactics.
"And Harkon?"
"Ex-city guard. Got kicked out for taking bribes, but Vera vouches for him in a fight."
A door at the far end of the warehouse creaked open, and Victor felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. Time to meet their mysterious client.
The click of heels against stone echoed through the warehouse as Selene D'Argent entered, flanked by six men in matching gray tunics, their hands resting on polished sword hilts. Victor's eyes narrowed. Too many guards for a simple tryst.
Selene moved with grace, silver-blonde hair coiled in an elaborate style that framed high cheekbones and ice-blue eyes. Her silk dress whispered against the floor, pale blue fabric worth more than most people in the Warrens would see in a lifetime.
"Lady D'Argent," Vera bowed slightly. "Your security detail is assembled as requested."
Selene's gaze swept over them, lingering on Victor. Her lips curved in a smile that didn't touch her eyes.
"Thank you for coming." Her voice carried the polished accent of nobility, each syllable precisely formed. "However, I must confess I've been... less than forthcoming about tonight's arrangements."
Victor shifted his weight, calculating the distance to the door. Six armed guards, plus whatever weapons Selene herself might carry beneath those expensive silks. Not good odds.
"I don't actually require a bodyguard." Selene clasped her hands before her. "I require someone capable of carrying out a particular task, someone exceptional at killing."
Finn shifted nervously beside Victor. "We can handle whatever-"
"You misunderstand," Selene cut him off. "I need only one person. The best." Her smile widened. "Which is why the four of you will fight to the death. The survivor gets the job... and a substantial payment."
Silence fell like a blade.
"This is madness," Harkon growled, hand moving to his dagger. "We're professionals, not pit dogs for your amusement."
Vera stepped back, crossbow half-raised. "Lady D'Argent, surely there's another way to-"
"This is wrong," Finn's voice cracked. "We can't just-"
Victor watched them all, the shocked outrage, the indignation, the fear, but his focus remained on Selene. She stood perfectly still, evaluating their reactions with clinical detachment. Testing them.
In that moment, Victor understood exactly what type of woman she was. Not the pampered noble his first impression suggested, but something far more dangerous.
He moved before conscious thought formed, fingers closing around the hilt of Harkon's dagger. The older man never felt it leave his belt, only the cold bite of steel as Victor drew it across his throat in a single, practiced motion.
Warm blood sprayed across Victor's arm as Harkon collapsed, hands clutching uselessly at his severed windpipe.
Vera spun, crossbow rising, but Victor was already moving. He caught her wrist, forcing the weapon upward as it discharged into the ceiling rafters. His stolen dagger found the gap between her ribs, angled upward to pierce her heart.
"No!" Finn backpedaled, tripping over Harkon's twitching body. "I don't want-"
Victor silenced him with a boot to the chest, driving him to the floor. The dagger came down once, twice, opening Finn's throat in jagged, crimson lines.
Three bodies. Seven seconds.
Victor straightened, blood dripping from the blade onto the expensive Persian rugs. Selene's guards had drawn their swords but remained in position, awaiting orders.
"Well," Selene said, voice steady as she stepped forward, the hem of her dress brushing through the spreading pool of Harkon's blood. "That was... efficient."
Victor met her gaze. "I passed your little test, now tell me about the job."