Swiftcurrent Creek alehouse

Akavir might have taken a great risk to he and Arric’s plans and well-being by keeping the feisty redhead in their vicinity, but he was not so foolish as to let two strangers he had little trust in unaccompanied.

So when the earthen wolf began exactly the way Akavir had assumed—the test to letting him near the redhead—the shadowrunner emerged from the foliage, champagne eyes pointedly upon them both. Swathed in herbs and medicines the little dove had painted him with, his gaze was fast upon Lestan, a brow raised.

“Were we supposed to let them tear us apart when they took the first attack?” His words quiet, weary, perhaps, but there was a simmering anger there. “They lead this girl into the attack. Encouraged her—so when the woman tried to escape with her, I stopped her. Because your other friends? The woman was close to bleeding out, barking orders for the girl to keep going, and the man? I threatened to kill this girl, and he goaded me to do it.”

He sneered. “As you can see, I didn’t. Not quite my style. This girl is free to go whenever she’s able to. But first—“ he looked to the healer. “She needs to heal up.” His gaze went back to the other. “When she’s able, by all means, Mayfair. Take her back to those friends of yours. See what other thieving and lowlife shit they can get her involved in until she is killed.”