Creator Chose Not To Use Archive WarningsGraphic Depictions Of Violence F/M
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Summary
Jesper had gone into a casino three months ago. He’d only placed one bet, but one was enough.
He’d come back to their then-hideout, bug-eyed, hands fiddling with anything they could reach. He told Inej that he’d had a relapse. She remembered how his mouth had looked as it formed the word, how painful it seemed to be to admit it. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
In the last two years, Inej had learned to run on rooftops like they were high wires. She’d learned to slide her knives in the soft tenderness under ribs, to wear black so she could move in and out of buildings unnoticed. She’d learned how to plant her knee into a groin and how to bite back. And now her hands were shaking and her neck was stiff from sleeping in a corner after being too afraid of a bed.
Relapse. The word was coppery in her mouth.
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After a close call with Heleen, the Crows lie low. The bunker comes with some ghosts.
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