THE KING OF THE STREETS has a reputation to uphold.
He's ruthless, he's unbeatable — except for that one time, that unmentionable duel — and he rules over all, a god amongst mortals. So the moment he steps foot into a Flora and Fauna meeting, faces twist in confusion. He doesn't blame them — a man like him in a place where women gather together to fight inequality is baffling.
There are only two reasons why he would ever walk into a room full of angry women and the overpowering scent of vanilla candles — Claudette Banks, best friend and founder of the club, and Hunter Cooke, his brother.
"Aiden," Claudette says dryly, sipping red wine out of a crystal glass and gazing at him critically. Her brown eyes dart to his hands, which are encrusted with the blood of his latest competitor. "Come to join the movement at last?"
He snorts derisively. "Hell no."
The room bursts into muttered complaints and Aiden rolls his eyes. He saunters over to one of the four couches squished together to make a square in the middle of the small room, sitting so close to one of the members that he's practically on her lap. He thinks her name is Gertrude or something as equally awful but he can't really remember nor does he want to. "What are you guys talking about today? How overpriced women's products are compared to men's?"
A girl across from him, a tiny thing with platinum blonde hair and a pink bow in her ponytail, sighs loudly. "That's a serious issue, Cooke."
"We're discussing Mauve," Claudette informs him, pursing her lips tightly. "And our... views on her."
Aiden holds in a laugh at the look on her face. He and Hunter are both aware of her quest to find Mauve — to turn the girl into a symbol for Flora and Fauna, an icon for the women's rights movement. She's been searching fruitlessly for the assassin, checking every nook and cranny in Cape Carnelian hoping to find even the slightest bit of information on Mauve.
So far, she's found nothing.
"I don't understand why we're discussing a murderer in the first place. We should be focusing on tomorrow's rally!" Gertrude says from beside Aiden and Claudette sends her an ice cold glare.
"We've been over the rally several times in the past week, Louise. Shut the fuck up about it."
"Louise? I thought you were Gertrude."
Louise gasps and scoots away from him, squishing the girl beside her into the armrest of the couch. "How dare you confuse me with that... that bitch!"
The entire room — sans Aiden, Claudette, and Hunter — erupts into shrill cries. The other women have looks of outrage plastered on their worn-out faces, spitting reprimands at Louise and pointing bony fingers in her direction.
"How could you!"
"I believed in you, Louise!"
"You're just jealous Gertrude doesn't have a wrinkly forehead like you do!"
"Okay, that last one was uncalled for," Louise says bitterly, rubbing her forehead softly.
Claudette clears her throat once and the women fall into silence, all still pissed at Louise but unwilling to risk their leader's wrath.
"What happened with Gertrude?" Aiden asks before the silence gets too uncomfortable.
"We don't talk about Gertrude," Pink Bow Ponytail whispers, eyes darting to Claudette fearfully. Claudette just sips her wine casually and picks at pieces of fuzz on her black jeans. "She got married."
