“Did you bring the payment you mentioned in your message?”
“I have the girl waiting in a safe spot. The emperor comes later. Much later. After I have the information that I need. After you make this partnership worth my while.”
“You have other jobs for me, then?”
“Had. That was before I knew who you were. You’ve either been holding back on me all these years, or you’re not nearly as good as Natalie claimed. I don’t know if I’m wasting my time here.”
“You get what you pay for, Tristan. If you recall, I’ve been giving you money, rather than the other way around. Do you really think that if I had a rich uncle, I’d be passing the money on to you?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
“Yes, like Tristan DeLauncey offering up a slave girl as payment.”
“She’s not a slave. She’s a prisoner of war.”
Reaper rubbed his stubby chin. “The girl is worthless, but I’ll take her as a down payment. The emperor is the real prize. I’m sure I’ll find something useful to do with his brat in the meantime, though.”
A sneeze broke the silence in the factory.
Two puffs of air followed, less than a second later.
Both bodyguards fell.
Tristan sprinted toward Reaper before he could draw his weapon, barreling into him with his full weight, knocking him onto the concrete floor, getting in the way of Lila’s shot.
Dixon followed, a few seconds too late.
The men wrestled on the floor, a collection of curses and grunts. A Weberly revolver spun out of the fray toward Lila.
By the time she reached them, Tristan and Dixon had Reaper’s arms spread and pinned.
“What are you doing?” he growled as another sneeze cut through the air.
Frank and Fry emerged from behind the conveyer belts. They picked the hacker up from the ground and dragged him to the side of the factory, securing him to the wall.
“I’m sorry, Tristan,” Frank said after sneezing again.
“It’s okay. The conversation was boring me, anyway.”
“Natalie set me up?” Reaper shouted, fidgeting in Frank and Fry’s grasp. “Does that bitch know who she’s dealing with? Do you?”
“Apparently not. You’ve been selling out the workborn.”
“I’ve been making money.”
“Is that why you’ve been digging into the BIRD?”
Reaper laughed. “I could cut you in, Tristan. Bribing the highborn is a lucrative business, more lucrative than playing the wronged avenger. You couldn’t even guess who I have on the end of my hook.”
“Tell it to Bullstow, maybe they’ll care.”
“Bullstow? Since when do you work—”
Dixon wobbled suddenly beside his brother. At first Lila thought he meant to punch Reaper, but his hands didn’t fly high enough, didn’t move quickly enough or with enough purpose.
Tristan reached out, catching his brother as he stumbled drunkenly. “Careful, careful, careful,” he chanted, as though he only needed a bit of coaching.
Dixon looked up, opened his mouth as if to say something,