Natasha Van Doren is a shadow summoner. She bides her time and resides in darkness, feared and esteemed by Ketterdam's civilians, a ghost . She cons Kaz Brekker into joining a heist he can't refuse and with thirty million kruge on the line, the crow...
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"LITTLE GIRL."
The man's words were cynical and bitter, slicing through the air, though still crawled with venom. Tears caught in Natasha's throat, her silver eyes and red lips raw from crying.
Her black blouse was torn, hardly covering her chest. Someone had ripped her knives from even the pads of her bra and hadn't cared to conceal her dignity.
Natasha Van Doren blinked awake. Her eyes still swam with the remnants of anaesthetic and tears. Someone had lifted her skirt to her upper thighs. A furious cry corked within her throat. Her dagger holsters had been tossed onto the floor.
The thought of men loitering their hands across her skin whilst she slept was enough to destroy her in shame. It was her fault. Natasha should have never trusted Van Eck.
She could have gotten herself killed. In some ways, she had already.
Kaz Brekker's little secret was now free.
"Little Girl." His malignant voice scared her upright. Natasha could feel his eyes dancing across her body, up the length of her dark legs and the naked display of her chest. Natasha jerked in her chair, finally noticing steel chains shackled around her waist and wrists.
"May the saints be my witness," Natasha breathed heavily. "When I say I am going to fucking kill you," She drew backwards and spat at his feet.
The man's eyes trailed down to his precious shoes. He leaned forward, wiping her spit with a napkin, before casting it towards his companions. His cold eyes now brimmed with fury.
"Do I need to remind you," he uttered, bending down towards her. His palm gripped her bare knee, keeping Natasha firmly in place. "That you are shackled to a chair, and I am at the leisure of free will?
His voice dropped even lower. "Or is the threat of revealing our little agreement Mr Brekker, enough to garter your obedience?"
"I am going to take pleasure in gutting you." Natasha punctuated each syllable with spite, stabbing daggers through his skin with her words.
Searing pain exploded through her cheek, driving her back against the thick metal chair. Her body erupted with fear, suffocating Natasha and leaving her paralysed.
"I never got the pleasure of asking your name when we met," Van Eck circled her like a predator admiring its prey. "What are you?" His voice was nothing but a murmur. Van Eck leaned forward, drawing his finger down her cheek. His thumb rested against the corner of her lip.
"Nina Zenik," Natasha stammered, sporting a lie on the spot.
"Liar," he tantalised, pinching her lip between his forefinger and thumb. "I can smell a liar, little girl," he spoke, his long nose against her neck. "So I'll ask again,"
