When Youri turned around, he saw that Six had finished selling his package as well, and his stomach tightened. He was certain now. What he had just seen was Galley, the drug Liam had warned them about, and the memory came back to him hard — the three young men in the abandoned building, the purple smoke, the way they had dropped to the floor. It looked exactly the same, glowing faintly under the market lights as though it were alive.
As he started toward Six, a familiar figure came into view across the street. Barnaby stepped out of the crowd with one hand tucked into his pocket. He raised the other and waved at them as though nothing in the world were wrong. By the time Youri reached Six, Barnaby had already crossed the road and was standing in front of them, clapping slowly, with a wide grin on his face.
"Well done," he said. "See? I told you it wouldn't take more than thirty minutes." He chuckled. "Now let's go somewhere nice and have some fun. Don't worry — it's on me."
The boys hesitated, but in the end they followed him. As they made their way along the winding paths of the Cloaked Market, Barnaby glanced back over his shoulder. "You boys got the money from the sales?"
They both nodded.
"That's great," he said smoothly. "Hand it over."
They gave him every bill they had taken, and Barnaby's eyes lit up the moment the money touched his hands. He counted through the stack carefully with that smile never leaving his face. Then he separated a portion of it and handed it back to them. "Here's your cut," he said casually — exactly what he had promised.
Youri and Six stared at the money in their hands. It was more than they could have earned in a whole month at the warehouse. And still something twisted uncomfortably in Youri's chest. As they walked on, he slowed his steps a little and looked up.
"Hey, Barnaby," he asked carefully. "What exactly was it that we sold?"
Barnaby paused for a fraction of a second — just long enough for Youri to notice. "Just Terrian spices," he said, waving the question away.
Youri lowered his head. "Ah," he murmured.
Almost at once, Barnaby changed the subject, his voice brightening again. "I'm taking you boys somewhere very special."
They made their way back to the night district, and soon they were standing outside a gentleman's club with a huge pink neon sign that read Saliente casting its glow across their faces. The moment they stepped inside, the pounding music hit them like a physical force. Youri and Six both froze. They had never been anywhere like it. The club was enormous, its vast space barely lit by dim neon that painted the dark in shifting colors, and at its center stood a great platform shaped like a sword, with three towering poles rising from it all the way to the ceiling. Three women danced around them, climbing and spinning with practiced grace in delicate lingerie that left very little to the imagination. Every man in the room had his eyes on them. Around the platform stood tall wooden tables with no chairs, where men leaned with drinks in their hands, and deeper in, past all of them, was the VIP section, with plush red circular couches arranged around low tables under softer, more intimate light.
Youri stood there in silence with the music vibrating through his chest and the neon reflecting in his eyes. A single thought echoed in his mind. Something about this is very, very wrong.
Barnaby led them through the crowd with ease, as though the place already belonged to him. Men moved aside for him without being asked — some nodding in recognition, others looking away — and he guided the boys to one of the red couches at the back. A waiter appeared almost instantly and set bottles and glasses on the low table without asking a single question.
"Sit. Relax," Barnaby said, dropping into the cushions. "You've earned it."
Youri hesitated before he sat down. Six stayed on his feet a moment longer, scanning the room with his shoulders tense. The music throbbed up through the floor, and everything felt too loud, too bright and too fast, while the dancers' shadows stretched across the walls like distorted silhouettes.
Barnaby poured the drinks and slid one across to Youri. "Go on. It's light."
Youri pushed the glass back a little. "I'm fine."
Barnaby chuckled. "Smart kid." He took a long sip himself, his eyes drifting back to the stage. "You two did good work today. Not many your age could have pulled that off."
Youri swallowed. "You said spices."
Barnaby's smile didn't fade, but something behind his eyes hardened. "And I said not to worry about it."
Silence settled between them, heavy in spite of the music. Six edged closer to Youri. A low rumble came from his throat, and Barnaby glanced at him, amused.
"Relax," he said calmly. "Nobody's in any danger here. What's done is done."
Before Youri could answer, a commotion rippled through the club from the entrance. Voices rose. The music faltered and then stopped altogether, and every head in the room turned as a group of armored figures pushed their way inside, with Terrian insignia gleaming on their chests under the neon.
Barnaby leaned back on the couch, completely unbothered. "Well," he muttered. "That was faster than I expected."
Youri's heart slammed against his ribs. He looked from the soldiers to Barnaby, and the truth came crashing down on him all at once. "You knew," he said quietly. "You knew they'd come."
Barnaby finally looked at him — really looked at him. "Listen carefully, kid. When things go bad, you move fast and you don't look back."
At the entrance, one of the officers raised his voice. "This establishment is under inspection. No one leaves."
Barnaby stood and straightened his jacket. "Time to go."
And before Youri could ask how, Barnaby kicked the table over and sent the bottles shattering across the floor. Shouts erupted on every side. In the chaos Barnaby seized Youri's arm and gave Six a sharp nod. "Run."
Six reacted at once. He grabbed Youri and pulled him into the panicking crowd. People screamed, guards shouted, and the music roared back to life in a distorted frenzy as the boys shoved their way between bodies, slipping on spilled drinks, with their hearts pounding. They burst through a side door into an alley with their lungs on fire, neon spilling out behind them and alarms starting to wail, and they kept running until the sounds had faded into the night.
When they finally slowed, Youri bent over, gasping for air, while Six stood beside him with his fists clenched and his eyes blazing. Youri stared at his own shaking hands and the money still crumpled in them.
"This money," he said between breaths. "It's blood money."
The city hummed around them, alive and indifferent. Somewhere behind them, the sirens went on wailing.