"Gang Leader, the young Master sent a message," Mourne, the acting boss of WireRats, said. He stood patiently beside a desk and stretched out his hand for a piece of paper.
Zhara raised her brows. "He wants something again? Last time he bought those poisonous and healing potions."
The WireRats had become the sole monopolistic gang. In just a few months, they had grown from a small-time gang to the true ruler of the Academy black market.
Weapons? Poisons? Illegal goods? Their hands were crawling over it.
All thanks to the young Master, Severin.
They felt indebted to him, so anytime he needed something, they usually sold at a discounted price.
But also, they feared him. They'd tracked his background, and it always ended at the orphanage and the street. There should be no way for him to have the information that he had, but he did.
He had even provided some information to them in the previous month—information that let them begin planting their seeds on the outside.
