Page 17

I sat in the dingy corner of the Meadows Inn, my legs spread in what I hoped was a convincing imitation of masculine nonchalance.

The air reeked of stale ale and unwashed bodies, making my nose wrinkle in disgust. Somehow it was even worse than when I lived in exile.

My eyes kept darting to Gareth, that idiot, as he gleefully tossed coins onto the grimy table.

Each clink of metal on wood sent a spike of fury through me.

“I ought to go over there and knock some sense into his thick skull,” I muttered, my hands clenching into fists.

Tommy’s small hand on my arm stopped me. “Easy there, m’lord. Remember why we’re ‘ere. You can deal with ‘im later.”

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to relax. The boy was right, of course. I had more pressing matters to attend to than Gareth’s stupidity. “Fine. Remind me again about this Red Cross gang and their mysterious leader.”

Tommy’s eyes lit up, clearly excited to show off his knowledge. “Well, m’lord, most folks ain’t even seen the leader. He goes by the name Red.”

I snorted. “How creative.”

“They say he’s real clever though,” Tommy continued, unfazed by my sarcasm. “The gang members all ‘ave this tattoo – red arrows crossin’ inside a circle. That’s how you kno’ they’re Red Cross.”

I nodded, absently munching on stale peanuts as I scanned the room. Tommy pointed out a burly man near the bar, the telltale tattoo visible on his forearm. As I squinted to get a better look, a nagging sense of familiarity tugged at my mind. Where had I seen that symbol before?

My musings were interrupted by the approach of a barmaid. “Can I get you gentlemen anything?”

I looked up, ready to decline, when my heart nearly stopped. It was the same woman I’d saved from Gareth’s assault. Panic flooded through me as I scrambled to deepen my voice.

“No, we’re fine,” I growled, trying to sound as gruff and manly as possible.

The barmaid nodded with a smile and moved on. I let out a shaky breath, relief washing over me. That had been too close.

“You alright ther’, m’lord?” Tommy whispered. “You look like ye’ve seen a ghost.”

I waved him off, trying to regain my composure. “I’m fine. Just… thought I recognized her for a moment.”

As I settled back into my seat, my eyes drifted once more to the Red Cross member’s tattoo. The nagging feeling intensified. Why did that symbol seem so familiar?

As I pondered, a hulking brute of a man lumbered over to our table, his meaty hands splayed on the sticky wood.

“Boss wants to see ya,” he grunted.

I arched an eyebrow, trying to mask my surprise. “Oh? And who might your boss be?”

I hope it’s this Red Tommy was talking about.

The man’s face twisted into what I assumed was meant to be a smirk. “You’ll find out soon enough. Now move.”

Tommy looked at me and gave me a reassuring nod.

This was exactly what I wanted, wasn’t it?

A chance to get closer to the heart of this operation.

As we followed our less-than-charming escort through a hidden door behind the bar, I couldn’t help but memorize the path.

A sideways glance told me that Tommy was doing the same.

The passage beyond was dark and damp, the walls close enough to brush my shoulders. The smell of mold and decay assaulted my nostrils, making me wish I’d brought a handkerchief. Not that I owned any these days.

“Lovely accommodations,” I muttered. “Do you charge extra for the ambiance?”

Our guide didn’t respond, but I swore I saw Tommy stifle a giggle.

We emerged into a well-lit room that seemed way bigger than anyone would expect.

I assumed we were underground. The space was teeming with scary, big, and muscular men— some sharpening their weapons, some practicing their swords, and some practically beating up other men — but one thing stood out: that they were very organized.

They couldn’t be a small gang. I was more certain than ever that they were behind the gold smuggling.

When Anderic told me about the smuggling being connected, my first thought went to the Red Cross and how they conveniently placed more than a million gold bars in Magnus’ furniture instead of the five hundred my father gave.

It didn’t make sense for a mere gang to have that much.

I thought someone else might have given those gold bars to them but if the Red Cross themselves were doing the smuggling…

No, it still didn’t make sense. They couldn’t do all this without some powerful backing.

They must be working with someone. I had solved half the puzzle.

He moved us into a smaller, less than stellar room, which seemed to serve as some sort of makeshift office. Crates were stacked haphazardly against the walls, and a rickety desk dominated the center. The man sat behind it.

I eyed the Red Cross member across the rickety desk, keeping my expression neutral despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach. The room smelled of damp wood and cheap whiskey, making me long for a breath of fresh air.

“So,” the brute growled, “what business brings you to us?”

I leaned back, adopting an air of nonchalance I didn’t quite feel. “I hear the Red Cross can accomplish… anything. For the right price, of course.”

His lips curled into a predatory grin. “You heard right. Name your poison, and we’ll make it happen. For the right price, of course.”

“Excellent,” I drawled. “Then I’d like to speak with Red himself.”

The smile vanished from his face faster than a noble’s manners at a peasant feast. “No.”

I had expected that much. But I had an idea, and I’m going to stick to it.

But I still acted taken aback by his bluntness. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. No one sees Red. Now state your business or get out.”

Damn my plans! This wasn’t going according to plan at all. I needed to see their leader. Time for a more… forceful approach.

I stood, letting my chair scrape loudly against the floor. “I thought Red Cross operated on coin,” I declared, my voice rising. “Isn’t that right?”

The brute’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Watch yourself.”

Ignoring the warning bells clanging in my head, I reached into my coat and pulled out a heavy pouch. The coins inside clinked as I tossed it onto the desk.

“There’s plenty more,” I said, my heart pounding. “Surely your leader would be interested in such a lucrative opportunity?”

The man’s face contorted with fury. He stood, looming over me. “Listen here, you insolent little—”

“Or what?” I challenged, praying my voice didn’t betray my growing fear. “You’ll turn down good money? Some criminal enterprise you’re running.”

His meaty hand shot out, grabbing my collar. “One more word,” he snarled, “and I’ll show you exactly how we deal with loudmouths.”

I swallowed hard, my bravado faltering. Perhaps I’d miscalculated. Just as I was contemplating how quickly I could grab Tommy and reach the door, it slammed open with a resounding bang.

A figure strode in, radiating authority. “What,” a low voice growled, “is going on here?”

At the door stood a man who could only be described as unremarkable. Average height, average build, average everything. The only thing that stood out was the intensity of his gaze as he fixed his eyes on me.

Could it be the mysterious Red? It can’t be that easy.

The brute’s fingers unwound from my collar, though his glare promised violence. “Boss,” he grunted, “this one’s making trouble. Says they won’t deal with anyone but Red.”

I smoothed my wrinkled collar, studying the newcomer.

His plain features and unremarkable build screamed ‘look away’, which made him all the more suspicious.

No criminal mastermind would advertise their power.

Still, something about him didn’t quite fit the image of the notorious Red.

The way the brute called him ‘boss’ suggested authority, but perhaps not the highest authority.

Perfect. If he’s high-ranking enough, he might be my ticket to Red.

“Is that so?” He drawled. His eyes swept over me, lingering on the coin purse still lying on the desk. “You’re the one causing all the fuss. What business could be so important that you’d risk death to discuss it?”

I straightened my spine, channeling every ounce of rich merchant disdain I could muster. “I have a proposition for Red. One that could be quite lucrative for both of us.”

He sat down and leaned back in his chair, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. “Interesting. And what makes you think Red would be interested in your… proposition?”

“Because,” I said, allowing a predatory smile to spread across my face, “I know about the gold.”

There. I said it. To get his attention, I needed to say it.

The room went deathly silent. Even Tommy, who had been fidgeting nervously beside me, froze. Even Tommy thought I was digging my own grave.

The man - who I assumed was not actually Red, but some underling - narrowed his eyes. “What gold?”

Time to see how far up the ladder you can take me.

I laughed, the sound brittle and cold. “Oh, come now. Let’s not play games. I know all about the smuggling. Ring any bells?”

His face remained impassive… to most, but not to me. I could see the flicker of realization in his eyes. Got you, you bastard.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice carefully controlled.

I leaned forward, placing my hands on his desk. “I think you do. And I think your boss, Red, would be very interested in what I have to say. So why don’t you be a good little lackey and go fetch him for me?”

The man’s jaw clenched, and for a moment I thought I’d pushed too far. But then he stood, his chair scraping against the floor.

“Wait here,” he growled, disappearing through a door I hadn’t noticed before.

As soon as he was gone, Tommy tugged on my sleeve. “M’lord,” he whispered, “are you sure this is a good idea?”

I patted his hand absently. “It’s our only way, Tommy. We need answers, and Red is the key.”