Chapter 12 · The Raven's Nest

"Drop the ledger, or I'll paint this floor with your brains, cripple."

Thirty barrels were leveled at us. Thirty trigger-happy bastards in charcoal suits, smelling of cheap cigars and expensive gunpowder. We were pinned in the center of a vaulted warehouse—the 'Raven's Nest'—and the only exit was a steel door currently locked by a man who looked like he chewed glass for breakfast.

I sat in my wheelchair, my useless legs draped in a cashmere blanket that felt like a joke in this slaughterhouse. Vesper stood in front of me, her twin pistols out, her breathing shallow. I could see the slight tremble in her shoulders, not from fear, but from the sheer effort of not screaming at these idiots.

"Vesper," I said, my voice dry. "Do we have the ledger?"

"Got it," she snapped, not looking back. "But we're about five seconds away from being Swiss cheese. Lucian, we need to move. Now."

"Move where?" I glanced at the gunmen. "They've got the perimeter. Unless you've grown wings in the last ten minutes."

"Shut up and let me work!" Vesper barked. She shifted her weight, her boots scraping the concrete.