Kayleigh was getting bored. For the whole evening, she had been gambling with a group of male strangers - seduced into inviting her into their games by her charm and extravagant act of feministic qualities. She didn’t even know their names, and never bothered to ask. And for the entire evening, Kayleigh had been losing more often that she had won. But no matter! 

“What yours is mine, right?” She remarked casually to her temporary companions, seemingly out of the blue. Kayleigh batted her eyelashes and smiled sweetly. [i]Eventually[/i], she added in her mind. 

“Anything you say babe,” they answered unanimously, dazzled by her flirtatious acts and beauty. They had failed to consider the malicious intent behind those casual words, and promptly resumed the game. 

Time was ticking. A quick glance to the darkest corner of the tavern acquainted her sight with Jackson, her stealthy companion. She gave him a wink.

Then, the door to the tavern was unceremoniously thrust open.

“I DEMAND THE SURRENDER OF ALL OF YOUR FINEST ALE,” a voice boomed across, reaching far into the depths of the tavern. Before silence could descend upon the place, there was a clatter of both light and heavy footsteps and a dozen or more men emerged from the gloom of the night outside to join their master. Kayleigh had caught sight of the almost imperceptible shift in posture of her fellow partner-in-crime, and confirmed the identity of the coarse, unpolished newcomer. 

“The rest of you,” the man snarled, meeting each fearful gaze with a cold, bloody stare. “Get out.”

The desired effect was instantaneous. People scrambled to their feet and shot straight for the double doors of the tavern. When the pandemonium subsided, only Kayleigh and Jackson were left. Both stared nonchalantly at the man and his lackeys, while Kayleigh repeatedly tossed a bag of coins up into the air. Her other hand slipped four more into her satchel.