The market just north of Wall Street wasn’t anything so grand as the one in the market district, but it was noisy and full of life and, more importantly, full of distraction for Jasna. Irritated and restless after everything that had happened over the last few days, the fledgling gang leader needed out of her gang’s squat and out from under her people’s eyes.

The crew was in danger of pulling in two again and it was up to her, as per usual, to decide the direction they would go.

Great.

Her brother, Zelimir, was ready to riot at the very thought of bowing to Hastur Ward and allowing him to take control of their crew to forge it into a proper gang. The bastard hadn’t said he was planning to do as much to her face, but it was an easy enough conclusion to come to and Gavrail agreed.

Gavrail thought she ought to take him up on his offer while it was still on the table and there had been a moment when Jasna had wanted to throttle him for even suggesting such a thing after all they’d been through. She’d managed to refrain, though, mostly because she’d had to step in and stop her brother from doing worse to the guy. After she’d sent Zelimir out of the room and she’d reluctantly given Gav a chance to lay out his argument at the insistence of their crewmates, she had to admit he made some points not easily laid aside.

Zelimir was her blood, so close that they were often mistaken for twins, but while she always trusted him to have her back in a fight, Jasna knew the fact that she was the one the crew looked to for leadership, not him, had never sat right with her sibling. She didn’t think he’d ever outright betray her— for one thing, most the others would never fall in line behind him if he did, but at times like this she could really feel the fault-lines in the foundation of their relationship. Bowing his head to her was already difficult enough for the man— Jasna genuinely didn’t know if he would do the same for Hastur Ward if she decided to hand over leadership to him…

The smell of cooking meat caught Jasna’s nose as she wandered past a row of food stalls and her empty stomach growled. She’d eaten yesterday so she’d passed out most of her food to the kids this morning— to keep their wails from grating on her nerves, she told herself, but there was no denying their smiles helped ease the ache in her own belly.

For awhile, at least.

Now that ache returned in earnest, but pockets empty as they were, she turned away from the stalls to avoid temptation. The sellers here in the Wall Street market tended to have sharper eyes than those uptown and Jasna didn’t feel like dealing with their squealing if one of them caught her lifting something off their stall. Her strength had always been in fighting, rather than sleight of hand but even she didn’t like getting tangled up with the watch over a few buns.

A large, familiar figure caught Jasna’s attention as she turned and through a brief part in the crowd she spotted the very person she had been dreading— Hastur Ward.

He was wearing a traditional long coat in a deep shade of red with a black fur collar, his sword only partially hidden by its fall as he stood there in the center of the market. Something on the ground seemed to have his attention as he scuffed at the dirt with the toe of a boot, brow furrowed in concentration.

Just as Jasna was about to turn away, not yet ready to meet the man again, Hastur seemed to sense eyes on him and looked up. His gaze found hers immediately and while Jasna managed not to flinch on the outside, she did on the inside the second his uncanny black eyes landed on her.

Everything in her told the girl to flee the moment he started walking towards her, but pride wouldn’t let her— Jasna refused to look a coward in front of Hastur Ward. However aggravating she found the man and his sudden intrusion in her life, his strength and skill in a fight had earned him a certain measure of her respect. She couldn’t tolerate the idea of him laughing at her if fled the field of battle, literal or not.

“Told you to bring the pup with you when we met next,” Hastur said when he stopped in front of her.

Nineteen years old and done growing, Jasna wasn’t a short woman, but Hastur still managed to make her feel small. He was quite tall, though not startlingly so, but the breadth of his heavily muscled shoulders made him into an imposing figure no matter who he was stood beside.

Still, Jasna wasn’t the sort to cower in the face of insurmountable odds, so she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin to glare at him. “Didn’t come here for you, I—” the girl’s stomach growled audibly and she went red with horror and embarrassment at her body’s betrayal.

Hastur barked a laugh, seeming unable to help himself, but didn’t keep going under the weight of Jasna’s furious, humiliated glare. She hadn’t intimidated him— he seemed to be giving her a once-over, though not in the lascivious way she’d grown used to since her more feminine attributes had started coming in. What little they had, anyways. Consistently battling hunger meant that, while Jasna was more fortunate than the plank of wood her brother had compared her to growing up, it wasn’t by much.

To be honest, Jasna wasn’t sure what Hastur saw when he looked her over with those dark, penetrating eyes of his, but whatever it was it made him sigh and jerk his head back the way he’d come. “C’mere,” he said then turned and walked away, clearly expecting her to follow.

Jasna very nearly left just to teach the man he couldn’t order her around just yet, but curiosity got the better of her, so she trailed a few paces behind the man and watched as he approached one of the vendors and purchase a dozen buns. The vendor passed them over in a rough paper sack and Hastur plucked one bun from it’s depths as he turned back towards Jasna, then took a big bite.

She bristled automatically at the display, assuming he was flaunting in an attempt to put her in her place, but before she could so much as open her mouth, Hastur pushed the remaining eleven buns into Jasna’s arms and she accepted them automatically, if only to keep them from dropping to the ground.

“Eat and we’ll talk,” Hastur instructed her, tone light but his expression firm.

The scent of fresh bread and savory pork wafted up from the paper bag to fill Jasna’s nose and the girl felt her stomach rumble as saliva filled her mouth. Still, pride wouldn’t let her stuff her face the way her instincts were so desperately commanding her to.

“I don’t need your charity,” she said bitterly, but, prideful though she was, Jasna couldn’t bring herself to throw the bag back at him. Resentment churned in her gut and made the girl grit her teeth. “I don’t need— we don’t need you.”

“I don’t need to hear your stomach while we talk,” Hastur said and started walking. She followed after him again, feeling as if he’d put her on a leash somehow, but unable to turn away regardless.

Hastur didn’t go far— he lead the way towards a long-dry fountain, a relic of a more prosperous time, and took a seat on its edge. Sitting and collecting stray bits of rubbish was about all it was good for now and Jasna took a seat as well, though she put an arms length of distance between them. If the man noticed he didn’t comment, nor did he appear to pay any attention to the voracious way she tore into first one, and then a second bun, before finally slowing down to savor the third.

The pork stuffed buns were simple fare made with the cheapest cuts of pork and coarse bread, but after days on meager rations they tasted like the finest white bread and tenderloin. Eating hadn’t always been so slim in the gang— they’d never gotten three square meals but it was a rare day they couldn’t all muster up enough coin to get at least one halfway decent meal in them by the end of the day. Since their bid to join White Street, though, Stanislaus had been taking a heavy cut of everything they’d earned running protection at the Red Bird and other businesses nearby while leaving them with barely enough to scrape by on.

The man beside Jasna offered her a water-skin he’d pulled from inside his coat. “Don’t choke. We’re supposed to be here to talk, remember?” he said, and only now did his tone turn lightly teasing.

She glared at him but eventually accepted and took a brief swig before passing it back to him. Jasna wiped her mouth on the back of her hand then said, “You want to take over my gang, don’t you?”