Chapter Text
Jhen shuffled nervously, wishing he was allowed at least a knife or a small pistol. He would have felt at least a little less anxious, although he knew that even if he were carrying ten guns, he’d still be this nervous.
After all, Kaz Brekker was not a man to be taken lightly.
“When is he supposed to be here?” Jhen asked Rhett.
Rhett shook his head, peering into the dark. “Whenever the bastard wants to, it seems.” Rhett was the newly appointed leader of the Black Tips, and he had sent a missive requesting to meet with a Dreg higher-up to discuss a business opportunity. Jhen had been there when Rhett had gotten the reply.
Enclosed in a crisp white envelope and sealed with a dot of black wax, the missive had sat on Rhett’s desk while Rhett stared at it in disbelief. “I wasn’t sure if they’d respond,” he had said. Then he grabbed his letter opener, broke the seal, and read. His eyes grew wider with every passing moment until he reached the end and looked up at Jhen, a mixture of shock and delight on his face. “It’s from Dirtyhands!” Rhett breathed. “Dirtyhands Brekker himself!”
"The leader of the Dregs? Is he willing to meet?” Jhen asked.
Rhett nodded. “He even agreed to our terms.”
Jhen had let out a quiet whistle at that. “Imagine that. The King of the Barrel agreed to meet.”
That was why, a week later, Jhen was standing beside his boss in a secluded area of Fifth Harbor, fidgeting as they waited for the infamous Kaz Brekker to show.
Finally, a figure emerged from the shadows. Jhen and Rhett tensed as the man walked over to them. The man wore all black, down to the gloves that clothed his hands. He walked with a cane that made a sharp click every time it hit the cobblestones. Topping his cane, nearly covered by his hands, was a silver crow’s head.
So this is Brekker, Jhen thought as he studied him. He’s younger than I expected.
Brekker stopped about ten paces away. “Evening, gentlemen.”
Rhett cleared his throat, casting a glance behind the Barrel boss. “Where’s your second?”
“That’s none of your concern,” Brekker said. “Now hurry up and tell me whatever you dragged me out here for. My wife wants me home in time for dinner.”
Rhett looked surprised for a few moments before he pulled himself together and started talking. Brekker listened impassively as Rhett explained what he had in mind. When he finished, Brekker stayed silent. His eyes turned from Rhett to Jhen, who nearly shrank back. “What do you think, Jhen?”
Jhen gaped. “How-”
Brekker waved an impatient hand. “I know the names of everyone who’s anyone in this town. Now answer the question- my wife doesn’t like to wait.”
Jhen swallowed, then said, “I think that it’s an opportunity that could benefit both gangs. It’s better than being at each other’s throats, at least.”
Brekker hmmed, shark eyes still fixed on Jhen. Then he looked back at Rhett. “I will consider it and send you a message with my answer.” With that, he turned around and limped back the way he came.
“Well, that was nerve-racking,” Rhett muttered. “What did you think of the little bombshell he dropped? The one about his wife?”
“I’ve never thought of Kaz Brekker as a man anyone would see as husband material,” Jhen said honestly as they started back to the gang.
“What woman would marry someone like that?” Rhett wondered. “He’s a living legend, each story worse than the last.”
“Probably some poor sap he conned into marriage for the tax benefits,” Jhen said.
Rhett let out a huff of a chuckle. “Well, may Ghezen and the Saints bless her for putting up with that horrible man.”