3: Yuri

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"I'm the hidden draw of what you were before
I splice and play back reels from the cutting-room floor"
-Royal Blood-

"Who's she?" Jesper spun his pistol in one hand, waving at me from where he stood, confused.

"She's Ada Kübrik, the newest member of our crew." Kaz grumbled.

Jesper took my gloved hand in his, shaking it. "Nice to meet you, then, sorry about Dirtyhands." he said, glancing at Kaz.

"Jesper, is it?" I replied.

He arched a brow.

"We played poker once. I think you were too shitfaced to remember." I shrugged.

He smiled, clapping his hands together. "Yep, sounds like me."

"Enough. We have a job needing done." Kaz interrupted.


I wasn't expecting the Crows to behave in such a manner.

Inej, from the Menagerie, a Suli girl who could move in utter silence. Jesper, witty and a master of pistols.

And Kaz. The Bastard of the Barrel, Dirtyhands. Like me, he wore his gloves perpetually. The reason, however, I knew would be vastly different. He was less grouchy after I began to let down my mask of sarcasm and deadpan jokes.

The journey was a mass of smog in my mind, clouding my thoughts as I tried to focus on the task at hand.

I stood in Kaz's office, sharpening my boomerang blade; Harbinger.

I whistled a tune from years ago, watching as a woman was dragged into the room.

Kaz sat in his chair across from the woman. "You've been here every night this week. You don't play Makker's Wheel or Ratcatcher, only cards," he said, eyeing her carefully. "Because you keep track of what's played."

"Well, that's not cheating," the woman argued.

Kaz looked at me and frowned, jerking his head to the side in a tiny movement. He wanted me to leave.

I slipped out, headed for the bar for a drink.

"No, but I'll have to add an extra deck to your table to keep things more balanced." Brekker said.

He stood, opening the framed map that hung above his desk, revealing a stash of Kruge. He took a wad of it and slammed it down on the table in front of her.

"An incentive to keep playing... count it for me," He ordered.

She took the pile of cash in her trembling hands. Holding it in one hand, she started flipping through it, counting it with her other thumb.

Kaz rested his cane atop her hands, stopping her counting. "Where are you from?"

"West Ravka. Os Kervo." She replied without hesitation.

"West Ravkans count money from one hand to the other, but people out east who work the mines in Sikursk, they count like you do." Brekker pointed accusingly at her hands.

The woman persisted, "I am from West Ravka."

"West Ravkans don't mention the West part; to them, there's just Ravka and the old country," He explained. The woman failed to hide her shock. "You're lying about where you're from because you've fled. You're hiding."

Her lips quivered as she place the money on the table. "My daughter is Grisha. Neither of us wanted her to fight in the war. You can't make us go back."

"No, I'm not after you." He reassured. "But you need to tell me how you and your daughter got through the Fold unscathed and unnoticed," he leant on the table. "Now."

Kaz Brekker surprised me yet. A plan was rising from the ashes, formed of broken pieces.

Excitement bubbled in the pits of my stomach as I slid into a seat in the corner of the tavern.

My peaceful watching did not last long.

"Ada?"

I snapped back from glazed eyes, focusing on the figure before me. Oh no.

"Yuri~" I began, but he already sat down. I frowned. "What's the third rule, Yuri, the second rule?" I hissed.

He took a swig of his drink cheerfully, his expression twisting as his eyes met mine. "Oh, shit, do not speak to anyone outside of~"

I threw his beer in his face to cut him off. He looked at me, mouth agape.

"What'd you do that for!?" he said like a whining child.

"I did it so you'd shut up." I snapped. "Now get the fuck out of here before I clobber you with this damn bottle."

Yuri didn't hesitate, wheeling out of the Crow's Club like a mouse in a cat's territory.

I sighed, drinking my beer slowly. I hated my own creation, and I couldn't understand why. How was that even possible. Sweat, blood and tears- only to regret it all.

There had to be more to do in life than this monotonous venture of nothing. I had to be missing a part of the picture.

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