Page 7 of Forged in Fire

I don’t reach for it yet. “You know my terms. I’m assuming this meets them?”

Her eyes narrow to slits, pale irises almost disappearing. “Of course. You think I’d waste my time calling you in here if there was anything in there that might offend your precious moral code?”

“No,” I say, because I know she wouldn’t. Veyra’s many things, but wasteful isn’t one of them. But I check every time, regardless, a ritual that’s kept me sane in this business. Not taking any chances on a repeat of what happened in ‘45. “What’s it about?” I ask.

“Kael Craven,” she says.

Every muscle in my body locks.

That changes things.

What could the Guild possibly want with the Sleeping King?

Veyra’s smile is thin, satisfied as a cat with cream. “Thought that’d get your attention.”

“What about him?” I ask, resisting the urge to open the folder, to see what secrets it contains. My fingers itch with curiosity but I don’t want to look too eager just yet.

“That’s where you’ll find your next target.”

I frown, the expression pulling at scar tissue over my eyebrow. “At his resting place? Nobody even knows where it is.”

“It seems someone does. And it’s making waves. I find that… disturbing.” The way she pauses before the word “disturbing” speaks volumes. Veyra isn’t disturbed by anything—I’ve seen her eat breakfast while watching interrogation footage.

“Disturbing in what sense?” I settle into the chair across the desk from her. This looks like it’s going to be more than a simple intel handover. I need more details, need to understand what I’m walking into.

“That’s none of your business. You’ll find everything you need to know in there.” She dips her head toward the dossier, and I finally reach for it, fingers brushing manila that feels warm to the touch.

I flip it open, and despite myself, I feel my eyes widen as I skim over the information. Photographs. Reports. Details that make my blood run cold. Finally, I look up at her, meeting those flat eyes.

“You’re sure this is accurate?”

A steely eyebrow lifts slightly, the only expression she allows herself. “Yes,” she says, her tone clipped with disapproval at the question. The Guildmaster doesn’t deal in inaccuracies. If she’s handed me this intel, it’s been triple-checked by people who know the cost of being wrong.

I rub my jaw, feeling the rasp of stubble against my palm. “Jesus,” I mutter. People are messing with dangerous forces.

“So you’re in?” Her eyes are sharp, taking in my reactions, probably assessing every micro-expression for signs of weakness. We’re always under scrutiny in this fucking place, always being evaluated.

“Same fee as usual?” I ask, though we both know what my decision will be, regardless of what her reply is. Some things are bigger than money.

“Double,” she says.

I blink, surprised despite myself. Double means this is worse than I thought.

“This one’s not going to be easy, Barlowe. As you said, the location isn’t common knowledge. You’ll have to figure it out.” Her voice carries the weight of certainty, absolute confidence in my abilities that’s both flattering and intimidating.

“Not a problem. If they found it, so can I,” I murmur, my eyes fixed on the text in the file, letters blurring as I consider what this means. The implications are staggering.

“And the ramifications if you fuck this up…” She pauses again, letting the silence stretch. “Well, I don’t think I need to emphasize the importance of getting it right.”

I nod, throat suddenly dry. I swallow.

“Are you in?” she presses, leaning forward slightly. I can see the edge beneath her permanently stoic exterior. This has got her unsettled, and that’s something I’ve never witnessed before in all our years of working together.

“I’m in,” I say.

Chapter 3

Iris