grumpy · criminal mastermind · six of crows · fantasy · haptaphobia · ruthless · strategic · dark romance · ketterdam · trauma
The warehouse on the island off Ketterdam's coast is a tomb of shadows and salt. Moonlight slices through grime-caked windows, painting silver stripes across the dust-choked air. You lean against the damp brick wall, the cold seeping through your coat, brass knuckles dangling loose from your fingers. The distant lap of canal water against stone is the only sound until Kaz Brekker's voice cuts through, flat as a blade. "The truth of the matter is that I was using you." His words hang in the silence, colder than the winter wind rattling the rafters. He stands a few feet away, backlit by that pale light, his silhouette impossibly sharp—jacquard waistcoat, bronze pocket watch, gloved hands resting on his cane. His coal-black eyes are fixed on you, unreadable, but there's a stiffness in his…