Arwen screwed up his face as he looked at each of us.

"Are you serious?"

"Only for a few hours. We'll untie you when we're somewhere safe."

Arwen looked down at the table, working something out behind his eyes.

"Eric, get me some paper, a quill and ink."

"Boss, ya can't be thinking of-"

"Eric. We're losing the light."

He huffed.

"Right away, boss."

Eric walked behind the partition, talking to the girl who served us tea. A few moments later, he returned with what Arwen had asked.

Arwen scribbled out a quick message before handing it to the young guard.

"Take that letter to the Council. I'll be going with our new friends here."

He stood up, readjusting his coat.

"Alone, boss? I could come. Maybe I got kidnapped, too," his larger guard said.

"Then who will watch the children, Carson? The Lagos brothers know about the daycare now. We need to take precautions."

Arwen looked at each of us with open, honest eyes.

"Besides, I trust them."

That made one of us.

"One more thing. We'll need to make the kidnapping look real."

The rest of the party turned to me.

"What do you mean?" Isla asked.

Arwen stood straighter.

"OK, how can I help?"

I walked over to the balding man. His once handsome face had aged like distressed leather, the tan skin rough and creased with wrinkles. Yet, his hazel eyes were still young and hopeful.

So that's where I punched him.

His head snapped back, throwing the rest of his body off balance as he toppled to the ground.

I rode a wave of satisfaction from watching his limp body fall on the floor.

That's what you get for ruining my plans.

Isla and Eric gasped. Carson pulled his metal club free and stepped forward.

"Wait! Wait, Carson."

The large man stopped mid-stride.

"But Arwen..."

Arwen sat up, running a hand over the back of his head to check for bleeding.

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"I'm ready to go if you are."

Stubborn, old fool.

"Jacob!"

Castille's hand rammed into my shoulder, spinning me around to face her hard, grey eyes.

"What's wrong with you?! You could have killed him from that fall!"

I frowned.

"It needed to be convincing."

Castille clenched her jaw.

"If we can't trust you, this all falls apart—this party—this quest and any chance you have of getting the Sanctifiers off your neck. Do you understand me? No more screwups from you. No more mistakes."

"I didn't make a mistake."

She stared at me for a long moment before pushing me away.

"You ride in the back. Stay away from Arwen."

I scowled, fixing my jacket and leaving the building.

I didn't make a mistake.

# # #

We rode back to the Pit in silence, with our prisoner bound and riding behind Castille on horseback. For a change, I wasn't the one getting strange looks in our party. We needed to make a show of Arwen's capture to buy time with the Lagos brothers, but that came with risks. Arwen was well-known and well-liked among the people, and his capture would only increase Steeltown's growing anger toward us—towards me. By the end of the day, the rumours would spread—the "elf" who burned all the food was now kidnapping Steeltowners.

I sighed.

I was a stereotype. The kind of elf parents used in stories to scare their kids. The kind of elf from Mr. Reeves' history books. So be it. They didn't have to like me. Do I even like me?

Cassandra's face blanched when Castille pushed the bruised cartel co-leader through the doors of the Pit. Poor woman. She must have regretted the day she set eyes on us.

"What are you doing?! That's one of Tiny Tom's men!"

"We're holding him for the Sanctifiers," I said.

"The Sanctifiers are right across the street! Why didn't you drop him off there?"

OK. Not my best lie.

She shook her head.

"No… No… This is too much… Tell me what's going on, or get out of my establishment."

"I can explain-"

"Cass..."

I turned to Castille as she loosened Arwen's bindings.

"We'll tell you everything."

# # #

Cassandra and Arwen drank shots of whiskey at the empty bar. The Pit was closed today. The door was barred shut with a wooden crossbeam. The girls were told to stay in their rooms. We turned the dining area into a staging ground for tonight's expedition. At the tables, Castille prepared our backpacks with two days' worth of supplies and checked her equipment. Dugan was upstairs with Thor while Isla and I rested on top of bedrolls in the corner, conserving our will. We needed to be ready to leave as soon as Arwen got word from his cartel's Council.

"I can't believe you lied to me," Cassandra said, her head swaying as she talked.

Castille refastened her right bracer and smiled at the red-haired woman.

"You got tricked by a pretty face."

"I know! The irony."

She reached for her shot glass, knocked it over and spilled alcohol over the countertop."

"Are you going to drink that? Cause if you don't, I will," Arwen said.

"You better be sober enough to lead us through those mines, farmer."

"Oh, I will be. I know those mines like the back of my hand."

Arwen looked down at his hands and frowned.

"They're in high spirits," Isla whispered to me.

"Uhuh."

I tried to block them out, pushing all distractions out of my mind so I could focus on what mattered.

Utility. Misdirection… Ruthlessness.

How long had it been since I said these words to myself? The further I travelled from the capital, the easier it became to forget who I was. What I needed to be. We were going to hunt for Nostrand Del tonight, and I would need all of Sin's lessons to survive.

I took a deep breath, calming the anxious pit in my stomach.

I am the hunter, not the hunted.

"Jacob? Are you OK?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

She paused, lips pressed together in a thin line as she considered her next words.

"Why did you punch Arwen?"

"I told you. The kidnapping needed to be convincing."

"Tying him up would have been convincing enough for our cover."

I rolled to my side, putting my back to her. She continued.

"You should apologize to him. He's helping us."

"He made me angry," I whispered.

"Why?"

A chill ran through me. I wrapped my arms around myself.

"He's weak."

"He's kind, Jacob. Kindness isn't weakness."

Images of Mr. Reeves flashed in my mind.

"What's the difference?"

Castille's head jerked up from where she sat at the tables. She looked at the Pit's entrance with narrowed eyes.

"Everyone. Quiet."

Cassandra and Arwen's mouths clamped shut. They stared wide-eyed at the door.

Leather soles scrapped against gravel. Heavy footsteps stomped up the wooden stairs that led to the entrance.

The footfalls stopped.

The silence lingered.

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