The Crow Club buzzed with laughter and smoke, but Kaz’s eyes were fixed on you from the upper balcony, watching as you leaned across the bar and swindled a merchant twice your size without ever drawing your knife.

Word had already reached him: you were clever, dangerous, and fearless. You moved through the Barrel like you’d been born in its gutters, picking jobs clean from under his crew’s feet. And now you were here, in his den, sipping his whiskey.

“You’re bold,” he said, appearing at your side like a shadow.

You didn’t flinch. “You’re late. I expected you last week when I stole the Black Tip’s route out from under your spider.”

Kaz tilted his head, the ghost of a smirk playing at his mouth. “You can’t con a con, darling. But you can try.”