Sarah thought about today's events and the mission at hand. The newest ego, Jim was truly an excellent photographer. Viracio and the larger brutish man had walked through the door no less than three times to get the perfect shot. Completely unaware Jim got it on the first go around.

  She didn’t understand all the incatrices of the plan. Seemed far too convoluted for her tastes, but the other insisted, so what was she to do. The others loved playing spy so much, it was strange. They were Brinn afterall, so it made some amount of sense to her.

  Penny's seemed like a nice place to work – half the men and women wanted more than drinks, and the rest pretended otherwise until they didn't. She had slinked through the back, waiting for a moment when the bouncer had looked away, and – quiet as night – stepped through the threshold.

  From there, it was a quick change and a quick mingle with some of the girls and boys in the back. She had explained that she was in Velnias temporarily, on her way to the Atrean Islet to visit a lover, and needed some extra funds. Her cousin lived in the area and knew one of Penny's friends, and from there, it was easy to set her up with temporary work. It wasn't far off from her actual story as the "vixen" ego.

  With a change of clothes and a few tips for cleavage makeup up, she stepped onto the floor of Penny's proper just in time to catch the eye of the boy who was walking with Viracio, not the brute, but the younger one.

  He was young but not a child. He dressed well and held dark features that paired well with his piercing brown eyes that held a genuine smile. Gullible perhaps, she certainly hoped so. It'd make her work a lot easier.

  Sarah, out of all the souls, had been chosen when they saw the trio walk into Penny's for a reason. Slinking was second nature to her, the way an old habit became instinct. Not in the way Oaklen hid. He hid in the woods and city street, knife bared and ready. The big bad monster stalking the streets. Sarah was subtler than that, she hid in plain sight, and when she left none were the wiser. She was the lonely woman at the bar, the helpless vixen in need of saving, or, in this case, a stripper at a club.

  Oaklen has been worried about adding Jim into the mix of egos, frightened that another ego would weaken the whole, but what did he know? They were one. They could share. A new tool in the arsenal didn't dilute the craft. It refined it.

  As she served a drink, she dipped lower, arching her back just as the boy looked. Rising slowly, she glanced back, meeting his eyes. He wanted something. She wanted something. Perhaps they could help each other.

  Finally, he found a natural moment to catch up with her. He passed her, barely, before planting his feet and turning to look at the platter of wine she carried.

  "And how much would one of these set me back?" he asked, more a statement than a question.

  "One Ord a glass sir," she smiled, leaning slightly forward, closing the gap between them.

  He made a show of counting the glasses, tracing his fingers over each of them as he softly spoke, "1, 2, 3, 4, 7." He finally landed on all the glasses left, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a bundle of cash. "7 Ord for the drinks," he thumbed through a few more bills, "and another 10 for your company."

  A big spender, then. Just hit payday. She smiled, not needing to fake it as she slid her free arm into his outstretched arm, "and may I ask the name of the man so generous with his company?"

  "Callum, and you?" his voice was casual as he glanced at her, clearly appreciating what he saw, but he didn't let his eyes linger as he guided them to some nearby seats.

  "Sarah, " she sat beside Callum, close enough that there was barely space between their legs. It was best to leave room to up the tension.

  He gestured for her to place the tray of alcohol on the table and then slid it further away from the two of them, "I don't drink, at least not wine."

  Sarah raised a brow, curious. "I'm flattered," she began, meeting his eyes, "that you would spend so much to allow me some respite sir."

  He waved his hand, "I'm aware of the difficulties on the job." The boy was obviously nervous, from the small way his eyes didn’t know where to look, and his muscles were just a little too tense.

  "Oh" she let out a giggle, covering her mouth with a single hand as she did.

  Callum flushed beet red and straightened at the melodic sound. Sarah smiled, feeling some amount of pity for the poor boy, an invisible cat had obviously taken his tongue. She’d help him along then.

  "And looking from afar wasn't enough?" she took the opportunity to scoot closer, allowing their legs and shoulders to brush against each other, "you had to get a closer look?"

  He smiled, showing a neat row of teeth as he nodded slowly. "For you? Absolutely, but I also hoped you would make for good conversation."

  She leaned closer into him, "Not many find conversation the goal with little old me," she teased, blinking up at him.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  He laughed. It was smooth and came out naturally, perhaps the first sound out of his mouth that didn’t sound forced. "Please, I've never met an entertainer who wasn't talented in storytelling, much less casual conversation."

  She liked this one. Respectful and a flatterer. Little green for her tastes, but there was nothing wrong with that, not to mention he wasn't looking at her ravenously. Wanting, yes, but that was part of the work, but there was a difference between a natural wanting and the look of a slobbering dog holding back the desire to pounce.

  "It's rare," she mused, reaching for one of the wine glasses, swirling it before continuing, "to find a man who looks but doesn't drool."

  "Some of us still believe in restraint, "Callum replied lightly, reaching for a glass in turn. Neither of them drank.

  "Restraint or control?" she tilted her head, boring into his soul, attempting to find a small piece of him, "one comes from within. The other." She let the words hang, giving Callum an opportunity to interject. Only when he was sure she wasn't going to continue did he respond.

  "Is something imposed by others.”

  She wasn't sure what she was looking for in that. She knew why she asked; Sarah had to talk to the customers, learn more about them, and build raport, but beyond that … it just wasn't the response she expected. It was surprisingly intense for someone so young. A bit pompous, but then again, he looked Coutaman. Likely dealt with the after effects of The War of Blood Veins.

  "A fresh insight, surely." She brought the glass to her lips but didn't drink; it was unlikely the girls could drink while on duty. She had worked at other places that used a similar trick to her. You could sit, talk, and pretend to sip on wine, but you were never supposed to drink.

  Callum, for his part, rolled his eyes and set his drink down, clearly aware of the trick. "Hardly. Everyone obsesses over control, because it's external.”

  “And yet?” she led the conversation.

  “Yet nothing … I think. People like to feel powerful”

  She hummed, reaching out gentle hand towards Callum’s face, “yet I control my hand.” She slides her fingers closer, pushing a curled lock from his ear, “I control my lips” she almost started to straddle him, but by how red he was getting she decided that may not be the best idea. He might just bolt for the door. Instead she leaned in from the side to whisper in his ear. “I don’t think control is such a bad thing. At least in these cases.”

  Sarah heard some of the other egos, watching from her subconscious begin to laugh. She caught vague feelings of “too cruel”, “poor boy” and a vague feeling of disgust from Thryssa, but that much was to be expected.

  She backed up slightly, giving some space for the boy to recover as she hugged one knee playfully.

  To Callum’s credit he mastered himself faster than Sarah thought he would.

  “I think” he managed to get out, “that you’re right”.

  "Tell me Callum. You seem like a man who keeps his hands clean,” Sarah ventured, hoping that she had sufficiently disarmed the boy of his wits. “Well dressed. Well educated. Was that man from earlier giving you trouble, the tall one?"

  Callum frowned, puzzled for a moment before realization struck. "My brother? No," he let out a small laugh, "in truth he was telling me to stop staring at you, but I just couldn't help it."

  Sarah allowed the slight blush to hit her cheeks. It helped sell the act.

  "Ah I see. Brothers. I suppose I see the resemblance now. You dress much nicer than he does."

  Callum nodded, but it was slight, "He has no mind for it. He cares about different things." There was a hint of a warning in his words, and Sarah moved to change the tone.

  "You must love each other very much then. Was the other man also related?"

  Callum's frown deepened, and she could feel him retract from the conversation, "No. I've only just met the man, we met briefly outside and walked in together."

  Ah, well, this was a dead end. It was a straight lie, and Callum said it with such ease. He was wary now, either of her or the information itself. She had been too impatient.

  Before she could continue the conversation, a man in a well-dressed suit approached Callum. "Sir. Your presence has been requested downstairs. I've been told to deliver a message from one Bellamy Hallow. He held out a folded piece of paper.

  Callum took it with one hand and looked over its contents, which read, 'Viracio, watched. Can’t bet. You place it instead'.

  Callum stood, previous conversation with Sarah, completely forgotten. “Sorry. I have to go.”

  Sarah stood, picking up the tray of wine from earlier, “I mean, you’re going to the pit right? They always need more alcohol down there”

  Callum, quirked an eye brow as he made his way through the club.

  “Didn’t I pay for those?”

  “Oh, don’t be so sour. I’ll give you an IOU later if you don’t make a fuss out of it”

  —

  The pit was gross. Sweaty people. Loud. Obnoxious. It was full of the rapid dogs she tried her best to avoid. Callum lead them over to the betting table before taking out an envelope and emptying its contents. "126 Ord on Bellamy Hallow." The odds were not in his favor, 8:1, and the woman manning the betting table raised her brow but accepted the bet anyway.

  She wrote Callum's bet on a slip of paper outlining the amount bet and the odds at the time of the bet. She then took an envelope and put the piece of paper in, before sealing it with wax and an imprint of a coin. She also jotted the bet down in a binder for her own records.

  "That's," Sarah began, biting the inside of her cheek as she debated continuing the sentence, but curiosity won out, "a lot of money to bet on your brother."

  Callum nodded, almost solemn, their earlier flirting seemingly forgotten, "I normally wouldn't. I'd actually split the odds. He pointed at the current odds, held over the table by one of the workers. "Most of the time, the bookies make mistakes at some point. They change the odds based on what people are betting. Sometimes they mess up the math or leave an opening for a friend and call it a mistake, but there's usually a spot where I can bet on both fighters and, no matter the outcome, win some money."

  It was all her effort not to side-eye Callum, "Isn't that risky? What if you get caught? And … why not this time?" Some of her wondered if it was because of her presence as one of the club's girls, although she was just pretending.

  He snorted a laugh. "They won't care. They take a cut of the pot, and make money either way. As for why not this time," he stared out onto the ring, a strange, unreadable expression on his face. It looked like dread. "Because my brother does not lose. I’ve made the bet. Now, let's get out of here before the fight starts."

  Sarah looked around, seeing Viracio in a private box with the club's owner. Crap. She weighed a few ideas in her head. Try to get in with Callum and gain hooks in that way or observe Viracio and scout out what he was doing. Hell, maybe it was worth trying both.

  "I mean. I'd be interested in watching. Plus it'd be a shame to not know if you won or lost until word got to you."

  Callum hesitated, looking towards the ring before shaking his head. "I." it was a hesitant word, "I don't like watching him fight. Not when I can't do anything about it. He gets … weird about it."

  "Weird?" Sarah probed.

  "Yeah, weird." Giving nothing else, he lingered still, but only for a moment. "You're more than welcome to watch yourself, but I’m going to get a drink upstairs."

  Sarah sighed internally. She didn't know how close Callum and his Brother were to Viracio. It was always better to have an asset than to need one. Better to get her hooks in and learn why Viracio was here tonight through other means.

  She reached out, pressing herself into Callums arm, “Oh, are you actually going to drink this time?”

  He didn't get a chance to respond. As they moved towards the exit, one of the bouncers, a Volkov enforcer, held up his hand, "No leaving once the first bets are placed. Security reasons. I'm sure you understand."

  Callum pursed his lips and scowled but nodded. He hated it, but it looked like he would watch his brother fight.