"Wh — wait, these aren't — "
And then it clicked. "Nooo, no, no," Evie murmured. Dumbfounded, she watched the merc return to Garrett's side. He'd all but confirmed it: not only did the boss have something dangerous planned, but it was absolutely going to throw her and the rest of them in harm's way. Whatever this was, Garrett had emptied the safe for it without a second thought. And if money was that expendable to him...they would be, too.
Because that was Garrett. That was who he was. It was always about the big picture with him. Hell, it was with all of them, in a way, and Evie had never argued with it. But it was one thing to die doing Ansgar's work. It was another thing entirely for every last one of them to walk into a death trap. She had to do something. She had to warn the boys. She stowed the daggers and waited until Garrett was out of earshot.
"Rhys," she hissed. The boys, holed up beneath the estate wall like soldiers in a war trench, stopped muttering amongst themselves. The one she'd addressed — Rhys — shot her a scornful glare for interrupting. She trusted him as much as she could trust anyone. He was level-headed. He listened. It didn't stop him from casting the usual icy disdain her way, though. "Something's up," Evie said as she joined them.
"No shit."
"No. Something's really up. Even the merc's on edge. He said Garrett paid him four times the original."
That got their attention. "He's lying," snapped Hamish. "Probably just bragging. Trying to get in your trousers. Foreigners," he added with a snort.
"I don't think he is," Evie muttered. She ignored the jab at her station and produced the daggers. One of the boys whistled in appreciation as she drew one from the scabbard. She wondered why the merc cared at all. He had his money. He'd get more even if she and the boys breathed their last breath tonight. This was just another job for him. Wasn't it? "Look. He's as big of an asshole as any merc. He still made a point to give me these." She met Hamish's eye. "You ever tried to pay a whore with knives, Mish?"
Rhys went quiet. They all did for a time. "We've still got to do this," he said finally. The rest murmured in assent. "We're here for a reason. We're not backing out over some spooked merc. Garrett's gotten us this far. I say we trust him a little further. All we know, he's covering our asses from a different angle."
"And if it's a trap?" Evie whispered.
"Then you're free to chicken out and go back to whoring."
She huffed. She closed her eyes and tried to steel herself against the dread that rose in her throat. "Fine. It's almost time. Let's just get this over with."
–
Garrett snuck along the perimeter, a very large, very unstealthy merc in tow. They edged carefully towards the back gates. There was a suspicious lack of surveillance here, and with the wall acting as a shield against the wind, it was now unnervingly quiet. "Guard should be taken care of," he murmured. "It'll be clear." But he paused by the gate anyway and took some time to draw his pistol. He looked it over. Then, seeming satisfied that it was ready for action, he led on.
They took an indirect route up the hill, weaving between windswept trees in the sprawling estate gardens. Though the path from the back gates was well lit, the gardens themselves provided ample shadows in which to skulk. And skulk they did, all the way up to an unassuming side entrance on the wing opposite the servants' quarters. Here, Garrett motioned for Snarg to crouch, shoved the pistol into its holster, and tested the door. "Damnation," he muttered to himself. "All meat and no brain." It was unclear to whom he was referring. He dug around in his pockets, produced a little kit, and drew from it a ring of lockpicks. "Keep an eye out for me," he whispered as he got to work.
