by Amanda Foody
“Nice shot,” he said in awe.
“Terrible driving,” she answered.
BOOM!
It was the loudest, sweetest sound Levi had ever heard. The streets around them shook violently as Revolution Bridge collapsed inward on itself, wires snapping and columns crumbling into the murky waters of the Brint. Levi would’ve waited to watch every single stone fall, but Enne’s hand was already pulling him into a run. They turned a corner and met up with the other girls.
We did it, he thought, victoriously punching the air in front of him.
Then Enne slapped him across the face.
He stared at her for a moment, shocked. “What was that for?” he asked, rubbing his bruised cheek.
“That was for Lola’s motorcar.”
She slapped him a second time.
“And that was for almost getting killed.”
“I told her I’d buy her a new one,” he said sheepishly. To her other point, he had no defense.
“We should get back to the museum,” Grace said. “The whiteboots will be looking for you.”
“I need to wait for Tock,” Levi told her.
“Tock ended up on the South Side. They’ll close all the bridges and ferries,” Lola countered. “What’s she gonna do? Swim?”
Levi plucked a shard of glass off his suit jacket. “I can’t see Tock missing a party.”
“Then we should wait for her there. That’s where she’d go.”
Levi hated that they were right. Right now, the Irons were probably popping champagne bottles and cheering at the black-stained sky. Somewhere across the city, Jonas was scowling, and Harrison was impressed. Levi had won his wager with the other lords and earned himself the respect he’d always wanted from the North Side, but none of that would matter if Tock had paid the ultimate price for it.
But she’d asked him to trust her. And so Levi swallowed down his nerves and followed the girls home.
LEVI
The party erupted into cheers as Levi entered, and the loudest among them was Tock.
Levi rubbed his eyes, certain she was some kind of trick. Her party dress was damp, her short hair frizzy and air-dried, and she wore a blanket draped over her shoulders. Apart from a bandage on her right elbow, she otherwise looked fine. The Irons crowded around her, screaming and slapping her on the back.
“How are you here?” Levi sputtered.
Tock wrapped her arm around his shoulder and raised her Gambler’s Ruin. “To Pup!” she shouted.
“To Pup!” the room chorused. Levi was too excited and relieved to cringe at the sound of his nickname. Glasses clinked, and every Iron rushed to congratulate him or shake his hand.
The next fifteen minutes were a whirlwind. Before Levi knew it, he had a glass of something cold in his hand. Music started playing as Tock explained her spectacular rescue—how she’d fallen into the Brint and was dragged to shore in the arms of a handsome whiteboot who’d mistaken her for a victim in her sequined party dress. And so while Levi had walked the mile home in zigzagged, backtracked patterns in case they were followed, Tock had received a personal escort.
“Pup! Pup!” the Irons called, pounding their fists onto card tables like a drumroll. He turned around, a thrill shooting through him. It seemed unbelievable that only two and a half weeks ago, these same gangsters had cursed his name. As he turned and climbed onto a poker table, whiskey glass in hand, he could barely remember why.
Levi had always been the Iron Lord, but now, it finally meant something.
Before he could begin his speech, the door across the room opened, and Jac walked inside. He was dressed in the swanky plaid suit Enne had bought for him, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and his arm wrapped around a girl Levi didn’t recognize.
Levi’s chest swelled with pride. The Irons were all here.
He lifted his glass in a toast.
“Twenty-five years ago,” he started, “revolutionaries tore the Mizer palace down and marched across Revolution Bridge. And all this time, they’ve left the North Side to burn.”
Hollers chorused throughout the room. Levi swigged the rest of his drink before continuing, then wiped the whiskey off his lips.
“The South and the North,” he mused. “No matter how many parks and universities they build, none of it matters. The North reigns. The capital of the Republic isn’t New Reynes—it’s the City of Sin.” Boots thumped on the floor, and glasses clinked in cheers. “But who owns the North Side?”
No one responded, and Levi hadn’t expected them to. The answer was no one—the North Side was divided. But he’d convinced every lord to bet on his wager, and so soon the gangs would be united. And the Irons would be rich.
“The whiteboots killed eight people, people the papers have labeled as gangsters,” Levi said. “And now the Irons have claimed vengeance.” He raised his glass again to Tock across the room, and the others cheered for her. “Scavenger and Ivory didn’t think this was possible. They bet against us, but we all know what happens when you play against an Iron.”
“You get played!” a few dealers shouted.
He raised his now empty glass. “Why beat your enemies when you can own them?”
As everyone toasted for the last time, Levi’s eyes fell on the only group that hadn’t joined in—specifically, on the girl in the middle, laughing over a martini glass of something pink and bubbly. As he stumbled off the table, Levi got it into his head that he should thank her. She’d helped him pull off his stunt tonight—maybe even saved his life. He remembered how cleanly her bullet had torn through the Houssen’s combustion engine, even while it was in motion. When had she learned to shoot like that?
As he passed through the crowd, receiving slaps on the back and applause all around, the door opened once more. Narinder walked inside, dressed plainly in an oversize black shirt. It wasn’t exactly a party outfit, but Levi figured he had enough swagger for the both of them. He delayed his plans of gratitude and walked toward the musician. Narinder was always good-looking, but tonight, he seemed almost painfully so. Burning with victory and whiskey, Levi pulled him in for a kiss.
But as Narinder drew away, Levi realized that he wasn’t really looking at him. He was looking at Tock, relief relaxing the tightness of his expression.
“You’re late,” Levi said, grinning and twisting his fingers through Narinder’s belt loops.
“Do you think we could talk in private?” Narinder asked.
Levi frowned. This was his party, and Narinder knew how much this meant to him.
“We could have a drink first,” Levi suggested.
“You’ve already had too much to drink.”
Levi was buzzed, not drunk. He was just in a good mood. “Fine, but I don’t know why you’re in such a rush. The Catacombs can live without you for a night.” He followed Narinder out into the hallway and toward one of the empty spare rooms. The parts of Levi that were tipsy realized what exactly they could get up to in such a place, and he was suddenly in less of a hurry to return to the party.
“Do you have a death wish?” Narinder asked him. His face was unreadable as Levi slid his arms around his waist.
“It’s the opposite. I wish to live.” He could hear an edge in Narinder’s voice, but if he were really angry, he wouldn’t let Levi press himself against him. He wouldn’t let Levi trail his lips from his tattoo down his neck. “I can tell you don’t like it,” Levi said teasingly. He felt the tension in Narinder’s shoulders disappearing. “But I can also tell you do.”
Narinder laughed, but it was hollow. “I see what you’re doing.”
“I’m seducing you until you relent and agree to stay. A trick out of your own book, to be fair.” Levi pressed his lips to Narinder’s, easing them open with his tongue. “We should celebrate. It’s finally...it’s finally all happening.” His voice cracked a bit, and he swallowed his wave of emotions in embarrassment.
Narinder sighed, a sound of both of exasperation and surrender. Normally, he took the lead, but f
or once, Levi wanted to do to Narinder what Narinder always did to him. As he unbuttoned his collar, slid his hand behind his neck, and pulled him closer, Levi aimed to make Narinder’s head foggy, to make his heart race with thrill and recklessness, to make him feel the same sense of destiny Levi felt each time he walked into Olde Town. He wanted to impart all of this with a kiss, and lose themselves until the morning.
But then Narinder broke away. “You could’ve died. Tock could’ve died.”
“I know that,” Levi said quietly. “But we didn’t.”
“You can’t just risk yourselves like that. You told me not to worry about your plan. But when I heard...” He fiddled with Levi’s belt angrily, and Levi put out a hand to stop him.
“What did you come here for?” Levi demanded. “To yell at me? Or something else?”
“I... I don’t know.” When Narinder tried to reach for him again, Levi backed away.
“I don’t get it. All this talk about protecting Olde Town—you never really mean any of it.”
“I do mean it. But that’s not what you’re doing, is it? You’re setting the city on fire to claim what’s left behind.”
The words pierced Levi deeper than Narinder probably intended. Levi wasn’t like the other lords, so Narinder had told him this morning—and Narinder didn’t even know about Chez.
“I would go to your party, if you asked,” Levi told him.
“I believe that,” Narinder said. “But would you also not do something, if I asked?”
It seemed a comparable request, but really, it wasn’t. Levi would take the world on his shoulders if it meant helping someone he cared about, but as Tock had told him, he couldn’t slow down, couldn’t afford to fall apart. He had a destiny to reach, and Narinder could either keep up or watch him walk away.
“It’s good I’m not asking you to, then,” Narinder murmured. He placed his hand on Levi’s shoulder, but Levi swatted him away.
“What are you asking of me, then?” Levi said. “What even are we to each other?”
“What do you want us to be?” Narinder asked, and Levi grimaced.
“More than this.”
Something in Narinder’s restraint seemed to snap. “You always want more. You can’t have everything, Levi. You can’t invite all the city’s gangsters into my club and expect me to welcome it. You can’t throw yourself and my cousin in danger and expect me to applaud you for it.” Narinder rubbed his temples. “You’re honest, and you’re clever, and you’re ambitious, but you’re also selfish. You didn’t even know my name after we first met. And after weeks into this, it’s still you doing all the talking, and me doing all the listening.”
This wasn’t how today was supposed to go, Levi thought desperately. First the news about Chez, and now Narinder chose tonight to lay into him?
“I didn’t realize I was such a burden,” Levi growled. “No wonder you kiss me all the time. That must shut me up, right?”
Narinder’s face darkened. “I didn’t meant it like that, and you know it.”
“Did you ever mean any of it?” Levi was talking about more than just Narinder’s words, and he was already making his way to the door. He could find a new club. A new connection. A new distraction. “All that stuff you said to me about Olde Town? Tock cares about something now. The Irons—well, we’re all still broke, but soon we won’t be. And they’re happy—”
“I thought I cared about those things,” Narinder said. “But I guess...maybe I don’t. Not enough for the worry.”
Levi clenched his fist as he reached for the doorknob. Then he whipped around. “Tock won’t leave.”
“I know that,” he said darkly. “And I regret that, now.”
What Levi had liked about Narinder—more than the connections and the opportunity—was that he’d actually seen good in him. But all he saw in Narinder’s eyes now was wariness, and the worst part was that Levi was starting to believe he deserved it.
He kept pulling himself together only to fall apart.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Levi said suddenly, his voice hitched. “I’m done.”
Narinder let out a long sigh, and it almost sounded like relief. That only infuriated Levi more. Narinder might complain that Levi did all the talking, but clearly he’d wanted Levi to say the words for him.
“My mother always told me to stay away from gangsters,” Narinder said, as though Levi really was just like the other lords. “Because first they break the rules, then they break your bones...and then they break your heart.”
“Your mother was right,” Levi snapped, slamming the door behind him.
He stormed back into the party with a bitter taste in his mouth. A few more cheers went around at his reappearance, and he tried to manage a smile in return. But Narinder’s words kept coursing through his mind. It didn’t matter what he’d accomplished—there was blood on his hands, and there always would be. Levi knew exactly who and what he wanted to be, but in the end, his story was being written for him.
Levi circled around the bar and grabbed the bottle of bourbon. As he poured himself a new drink, a girl in a red dress leaned over, dark curls nearly spilling into his glass.
“I bet you’ve looked better,” she said.
Levi recognized her as the girl Jac had brought and gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I can’t always be as dashing as the stories.”
He remembered that he’d promised Harrison to have a decision about the Torrens by tomorrow, so he searched the room for Jac. Instead, his gaze fell on another face: Mansi. When she locked eyes with Levi, any remnants of his triumphant mood sank until they hit bottom.
Then he noticed something even worse—she wore bandages around both her forearms, where her Iron tattoos were. The gauze peeked out from beneath her sleeves, stained red.
He swallowed as she crossed the room to his side. “’Lo, Mansi.”
“Is it true?” she hissed. “Were you stealing from the Irons for your scam?”
The alcohol no longer sat still in his stomach. “What? Why would you ask that?”
“I don’t want to challenge you,” she warned.
Levi leaned in so no one could hear them over the music. Gangsters didn’t casually throw around the word challenge. It was a duel to the death for lordship. Chez had nearly killed Levi during their duel, until Levi later ended the challenge on his own terms. He’d always thought of Mansi as his protégée, but she stood by and watched as Chez kicked him over and over. When it came down to it, she’d chosen Chez. And maybe she was making that choice again now.
“I don’t want to fight you, either,” Levi rasped.
“Even if I tell everyone what you did?”
She pulled a knife out of her pocket and flipped it expertly between her fingers, just like Chez once had. Levi had taught Mansi how to deal cards, but it seemed he hadn’t been her only mentor.
“Even then,” he said, and he meant it.
“If you’re wondering how I know, it’s because you missed the same loose end again. He sends his congratulations about the bridge.” Then she turned and walked away, and when the door closed behind her, Levi knew it would not open again.
The same loose end. Levi and Enne had already forgotten about Jonas once, and now he’d made the same mistake again—of course Jonas had known the details of Levi’s investment scheme. Reymond had been Levi’s business partner.
“Congratulations,” Levi muttered to himself. He grabbed his bottle off the bar and skulked off to an armchair in the room’s corner, to watch the rest of the party from his broken throne.
JAC
Even with all the Irons’ past glory, Jac had never seen his gang celebrate like this. Drunk and obnoxious, the party was exactly the sort he and Levi would’ve fantasized about years ago, when all their dreams revolved around cheap liquor and dropping volts on outrageous, one-night sprees. Jac’s eighteenth birthday had recently passed, but that didn’t seem a good enough explanation for why he looked around the room and suddenly felt old.
“I don’t get this,” Grace mumbled. “He’d be dead if it weren’t for you. Where’s your applause?”
“He’ll thank me later,” Enne answered. But Levi had been absent for some time. Jac suspected he was lost among his admirers, showing off card tricks and counting how many hands he could shake.
“I owned a motorcar for a grand total of four hours,” Lola said bitterly. She polished her harmonica with a bar napkin.
“You shouldn’t have bought it in the first place,” Enne chided. “What a waste.”
“You’re the one who planted the idea in my head.”
“I heard it was a Houssen,” Jac told her, smirking. “I knew you didn’t have taste, but if you ask me, it’s for the best that Levi—”
“Shut up, Polka Dots,” Lola snapped.
Sophia slid Enne her drink. “I’m in the mood to dance. Everyone else is dancing.”
Jac had brought Sophia to introduce her to Levi and convince them both of his plan, but so far he’d spent the entire night gaping at her in that red dress.
“I’ll dance,” he said, trying to sound casual.
Lola rolled her eyes. “You can’t dance.”
“How do you know?” Jac challenged.
“I know things.”
“Lola, you have no room to talk,” Enne told her in between sips of her Hotsy-Totsy. “You’re as lithe as a lead pipe.”
Lola stood up, several shades of pink. Jac realized he’d never seen her drink before. Apparently she was a lightweight. “I’ll prove you both wrong.” Then she tripped and slammed awkwardly into the person beside her.
Grace snorted. “I think you both broke her.”
The person caught Lola by the shoulder. Jac recognized her as Tock, though she dressed far more nicely than when they’d last run into her at Liver Shot. She smelled like the Brint mixed with cheap perfume.
