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Ketterdam was always loud. Even in the quiet, there was noise—the constant hum of the city, the clatter of boots on cobblestones, the shouts of merchants and sailors. But for Kaz Brekker, the noise had become an irritating buzz, a reminder of everything he couldn’t escape. He stood at the window of the Slat, looking down at the streets below, his gloved fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the wooden sill. The Dregs were out, each doing their part to keep things running, but Kaz had no interest in the daily operations.
Not anymore.
He turned away from the window and leaned his head back against the nearby wall, letting his hat fall into his hand, the cool evening air brushing against his face. His leg ached, a dull, familiar throb that only seemed to get worse when he stayed still for too long. But the ache in his chest was worse—sharper, persistent, and impossible to shake off.
Inej.
He didn’t say her name aloud. He never did. But it was always there, hovering just beneath the surface of every thought, every breath. She was out there, somewhere on the seas, hunting down slavers, doing the work she was meant to do. The work he’d let her go do. It was right, he knew that. She was never meant to be caged in Ketterdam, not like him. But the distance between them felt like a lead weight in his chest, heavier every day.
Kaz didn’t miss people. Not ever. People left. People died. They turned on you when it mattered most. That was what he knew, what he’d learned the hard way. And yet… there she was. Always in the back of his mind, gnawing away at his resolve.
He could hear the voices downstairs—Jesper and Wylan, laughing about something. Their voices carried up through the rafters, along with the clink of glasses and the scrape of chairs. They’d asked him to join them, of course. Jesper, with that shit-eating grin of his, always trying to pull Kaz into whatever ridiculous plan he and Wylan had concocted for the evening. They probably thought they were helping, that it was good for him to get out of his own head. Like they knew what went on in there.
But they didn’t know. No one did. And they wouldn’t. Kaz couldn’t afford to let them in.
So he’d blown them off, as usual, letting some excuse slip through his teeth about work to do, meetings to plan, Dregs business. Jesper had rolled his eyes, Wylan had sighed, and that was the end of it. They’d stopped trying after a while, which suited Kaz just fine. He didn’t need company. He didn’t need anyone.
But that was a lie, wasn’t it?
Because he did need someone. He needed her. Inej. Saints, he was weak. She’d only been gone a few months, but it felt like years. And every day, the empty space she left behind felt a little wider, a little harder to ignore. The letters she sent were few and far between, and when they did come, they were short, practical. Updates on her mission, on her crew. Nothing personal. Nothing he could latch onto. She’d truly become a wraith—just another phantom slipping through his fingers.
And he hated it. Hated how much it hurt.
He gritted his teeth, slamming his cane against the floor with more force than necessary. The sound echoed in the empty room, and for a moment, Kaz just stood there, breathing hard, staring at the floor like it might hold the answers he needed. It didn’t.
There was no cure for this. For the loneliness that crept in when the night was too quiet and the memories too loud. No way to fix the gaping hole in his chest where Inej’s presence used to be. She’d always been the one person who could make him feel… something. Even when he tried to shove it down, even when he buried himself in work and schemes and revenge, she’d been there. A constant, unshakable force.
But now she was gone, and Kaz was left with the pieces.
He dragged a hand over his face, feeling the roughness of his glove against his skin. There were moments—usually in the dead of night—when he thought about getting on a boat himself. About tracking her down, just to see her. Just to know she was real, that she hadn’t disappeared entirely. But then the rational part of his brain kicked in. The part that told him he’d never be able to face her. Not like this. Not when he was still Kaz Brekker , the Bastard of the Barrel, who couldn’t even touch her without flinching, who couldn’t give her what she deserved.
No. He’d stay here. He’d stay in Ketterdam, where he belonged, and she’d stay out there, in the wild places, where she belonged.
It was better this way.
He repeated it to himself over and over, like a mantra, but it didn’t make the loneliness go away. It didn’t stop the gnawing ache in his chest or the emptiness that stretched out in front of him like an open wound. He missed her. He missed her in a way that scared him, because it wasn’t something he knew how to deal with. Kaz could deal with pain. He could deal with fear. He could even deal with betrayal. But this? This hollow, aching want ? He had no idea what to do with it.
The door to his room creaked open, and Kaz’s head snapped up, his fingers tightening around the handle of his cane. Jesper stood in the doorway, hands shoved into his pockets, a faint frown on his face.
“Kaz,” Jesper said, his tone a little too careful, like he was testing the waters. “We’re heading out to the Crow Club. You coming?”
Kaz stared at him for a long moment, debating whether or not to tell him to fuck off. It would be easy. It’s what he always did. But something in Jesper’s expression stopped him—something that said Jesper wasn’t just asking for a drinking partner. He was asking because he was worried. Because he’d noticed.
“I’m busy,” Kaz muttered, turning back to the window, though he had no idea what he was looking at. There was nothing out there for him. Not anymore.
Jesper let out a frustrated breath. “You’re always busy. It’s bullshit, and we both know it. You can take a night off.”
Kaz clenched his jaw, the sharp retort sitting on the tip of his tongue. But he didn’t say it. He couldn’t. Not when the truth was so much worse. Jesper was right. He wasn’t busy. He was hiding. Hiding from the fact that he was fucking lonely.
“Not tonight,” Kaz said instead, his voice quieter than he meant it to be. “I can’t.”
Jesper didn’t say anything for a moment, and Kaz could hear the faint shuffle of his boots on the floor, the way he hesitated before speaking again. “Wylan’s worried about you,” he said softly, and Kaz stiffened. “We both are.”
Kaz’s throat tightened, but he forced his voice to stay steady. “I don’t need you to worry about me, Jesper.”
“Yeah, well, tough shit. We do.”
The room fell into silence again, and Kaz could feel Jesper’s eyes on him, waiting for him to say something, to give even the smallest indication that he wasn’t drowning in his own isolation. But Kaz didn’t move. He didn’t speak. Eventually, Jesper sighed and turned to leave.
“Doors open if you change your mind,” Jesper said quietly, and then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.
Kaz let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His head fell back against the wall, and he closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the night pressing down on him. He should’ve gone with them. Maybe it would’ve helped. Maybe it would’ve distracted him for a few hours, numbed the edges of the loneliness. But even as he thought it, Kaz knew it wasn’t true. No amount of gambling or scheming could fill the space Inej had left behind.
He was alone. And it was his own fault.
Kaz opened his eyes, staring out at the darkening sky, the streets of Ketterdam laid out beneath him like a twisted, filthy map. He’d built his empire here, clawed his way to the top of the Barrel with nothing but grit and spite. He’d survived. He’d won.
But what the fuck did winning mean when there was no one left to share it with?
Inej was out there, living her life, free from the muck of the Barrel, and Kaz was still stuck here, drowning in it. And the worst part? He didn’t know if she was ever coming back.
Saints, he was pathetic. He could hear Jordie’s voice in the back of his mind, mocking him for being so weak, so desperate. Kaz Brekker didn’t need anyone. He didn’t let himself need anyone.
But the truth was simple, brutal.
He needed her.
And she was gone.