Page 1 of Greed: The Savage
Chapter 1
Over the years, Addien “Snap” Killoran, employed by London’s wickedest club, the Devil’s Den, kept her head down and executed her charge with care. And for her service, the head proprietor, the Earl of Dynevor, showed Addien patience, grace, and most importantly, he’d been generous with her wages.
Granted, as one he’d brought in from the streets to turn out the courtesans and silk-skin queenies for the wicked performances they paid to be part of, Addien’s work didn’t require much skill. When it came to her own dress, Addien didn’t bother with frills. Her black hair, dark and long as her past, she tied in a knot, never with a fine bow.
But when it came to the Devil’s Den women, Addien turned their hair up real fine. From there, a fancy gown was a fancy gown. Addien had an opulent wardrobe of sheer silks and satins from which to choose for the doves. And when it came time for Addien to meet the French modistes—modistes who were about asFrenchas Addien was a blueblood—she carried the provocative numbers that’d elicited the biggest response from a crowd of gilded rakes and suggested more daring modifications.
As it stood, Dynevor’s freehandedness extended toallthose in his employ at the Devil’s Den—as long as they were loyal and hardworking. And for those who weren’t? Addien, like everyone else who worked there, had witnessed his lordship’s wrath. If you were the one to betray his lordship, you’d made an enemy greater than Satan himself.
After he’d plucked her from the streets and provided her a roof over her head, food, security, and all the things which she’d been deprived of in the course of her entire existence as a street rat born to some unnamed, unknown prostitute and herclient, Addien had grown up just like every other guttersnipe in London, with no idea as to who her parents were.
As such, the Earl of Dynevor was her brother, father, and savior, all rolled into one. They’d met by chance. He’d come upon her taking a savage striking from a constable. The earl broke the burly bastard’s truncheon in two as easily as he might a willow toothpick, and he had then promptly thrashed the supposed man of the law with one of the broken ends.
That day, Addien stood in awe of not only the dark-clad gent’s strength, but that he’d used it on her behalf.
Granted, shehadpilfered that over-ripe apple from a vendor on the street. But she’d been so riveted by Dynevor’s impressive display of violence, it’d taken her until about midway through that constable’s thrashing to feel compelled to share that important detail about her guilt.
The Earl of Dynevor, casual as could be, not even a speck of sweat clinging to him, looked up. He gave the constable one last hit with the broken stick and then paid the hawker not only for the apple she’d availed herself of, but also a fortune to cover the cost of all the vegetables and fruits on his cart.
At that moment, she’d vowed to lay down her life for him. He’d assured her he’d never require such steep repayment.
Still, she’d committed her life to him and the success of his notorious gaming hell. She worked hard for him and gave him her utmost loyalty. Not because she feared him, but because she revered him. But still, when one was summoned, any person—man, woman or child—would be wise to be wary, and Addien was no exception.
“Oi, he isn’t going to bite, Snap.”
Mortified that she’d been caught unawares, Addien turned towards the owner of that weathered but smooth voice.
He might have a surname. He might not. Here at the club, most didn’t. He was simply Roy.
As Dynevor’s lead messenger, when he wasn’t quickly and discreetly carrying messages or warnings between guards, patrons, and the head proprietors, he was one of the club’s strongmen.
He had the build of a bear and the scars of a warrior from long ago who’d been resurrected from the Dark Ages and inserted into the cobbled streets of London. It was hard for someone with her past not to be impressed by him.
Grateful for the distraction from her impending meeting, she gave him a wry grin. “You should know better than to sneak up on a person,” Addien said with a drawl.
He returned her smile. “And ye should know better than to let yourself get sneaked up on.”
“Oi knew you were there,” she lied.
His laugh said he knew it.
Had Addien’s employer not summoned her, she’d have been slaphappy at the big guard’s banter. Secretly, she’d come to enjoy the hard man’s company.
At once, he was all business. “Dynevor’s waiting.”
In fairness, that’s how they all operated. There were moments of levity that popped up in between long, hard hours at the Devil’s Den.
The reminder of her impending appointment quashed that flicker of enjoyment she’d found at Roy jesting and jibing with her.
The tight knot returned to Addien’s stomach. She’d never been one of those sorts to cower before people in the streets. Girls, especially, were eaten up and spit out and then devoured for showing any weakness.
Addien prided herself on her resilience, defiance, and detachedness. Nevertheless, somewhere inside, she was still the scared girl who’d taken one final, brutal beating from the gangleader, Mac Diggory, before she’d slinked off, found her way to the foundling hospital, and never returned.
Reaching up, she rapped once with a firm fist.
“Oi, enter!”
Addien made her way inside.
