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“Rowan Vasilyev.” His voice is light, like saying that is completely normal.

The bouncer visibly flinches, his mouth twitching and his eyes widening for a second. He may be a Raven, but the Vasilyev name is terrifying enough to have him acquiescing and losing the frown.

“He’s expecting us,” Rowan adds. “I’m sure he’d hate it if we’re late.”

The bouncer grunts out something I can’t make out, looking us both over once more before moving aside. I let out a quiet breath, following Rowan into a narrow, dark hallway. There’s a lone metal chair and a pocket-sized bottle of cheap vodka on the floor, the faint hint of cigarette smoke in the air.

Through a door in front of us, I can hear the thumping of a loud sound system and the clamour of voices.

“Arms out, legs apart,” the bouncer instructs.

I do as I’m told. I’m unarmed, which adds to my anxiety as his arms pat down my body before he asks Rowan to do thesame. Rowan smirks at me the entire time he’s being felt up and I openly roll my eyes at him.

When the bouncer is done, he walks over to the metal door and pulls down a metal wrench that opens the door to a lounge purposefully designed to look like a classic and slightly seedy speakeasy from an old movie.

“Someone will come down for you,” he mutters before turning away and shutting the door behind him, leaving us in the dimly lit room.

People sit on red velvet couches, games of poker and blackjack creating a noise over the music. My eyes follow the different women and men, scantily dressed in short dresses or boy shorts. They hold trays, but instead of drinks, there are wads of cash, powders, and pills. Narcotics would have a field day in here.

“So, who is this guy?” I ask Rowan as we walk over to the bar.

Rowan gives me a look that says it’s a dumb question, but I don’t cower from his icy gaze. He barely gave any details about tonight—just a location and a time. It’s to be expected. We’re not friends; we’re barely partners in this. All I need is a name, and with any luck, we’ll never see each other again.

Just then, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Rowan’s brow furrows slightly. “Boyfriend?” he asks.

I hesitate, my hand faltering. “If it is?”

It’s only Kane checking in. I send a quick thumbs up and slip the phone back into my pocket.

Would he care if I was seeing someone? Judging by the way he smiles easily, he wouldn’t. Good.

“Sorry, I don’t think Trist would appreciate me revealing who he is to an officer of the law.”

“But he’s happy to meet up with you?” I ask, “The soon-to-be Head of The Snake?”

“The Snake and The Scarlet Ravens have an ongoing peace treaty. We’re friends,” he says, trying to keep his tone light, but I can hear the tightness in his voice, can spot the tension in his shoulders. Did I say something wrong?

Not my problem, I decide.

“I did a little research, and I think the fifth death happened in one of your clubs. A girl’s body was recovered at the Sying Peak docks last night; her body severely decomposed. It’s been passed off as inconclusive just like the others, but I think she was at Summit just before she ended up at the water. If I’m right, then you or one of your brothers had her dumped there, which is why you’re helping me, isn’t it? You don’t want any bodies tied to you,” I say. “OCU and Homicide are on your ass, not to mention some parts of The Judiciary don’t want to be associated with the clans anymore. Any misstep would mess up a lot for you.”

Of course, there is no solid evidence that she was at Summit that night, no CCTV, no payments, nothing except for her drunk friends’ testimonies, one moment she was alive, the next she was dead at the docks.

Next to me, Rowan smiles lazily. “That is some accusation there,” he says. “Any proof, or is this just some wild fantasy you came up with?”

“I know how The Snake works. I know your M.O. when it comes to disposing of bodies. She was at Summit. I know it.”

“If you say so,” he says calmly, matching my gaze.

I don’t know why, but I suddenly want to push him. I want to know what happened after he was arrested. I want to know why he didn’t come after me, but this isn’t the place for that and before I can get a word out, I spot a group walking towards us, a woman and two large men, both armed and stoic.

My attention is focused on the woman, though. She looks young, maybe even younger than me, with long brown hair and deep olive skin that suits the short red dress she’s in. She’sbeautiful, her limbs long like a dancer’s, with a long neck that has a purple bruise at its base, like someone tried very hard to show they were sleeping with her.

And she looks familiar.

My heart seizes for a moment when her brown eyes fall on me. Her nostrils flare and her eyes widen, but only for a split second. She quickly schools her features.

Avni.