Chapter 1879 One Simple Question

• Afraid Finnegan was too young, too reckless to sense the trap he was setting for himself, Casimir hurried after him, his polished shoes clicking across the marble like nervous heartbeats.
• "Mr. Larkin, perhaps we should load the remaining boulders onto a truck first," Casimir whispered when Finnegan finally sat to rest. "If you keep cutting them here, we could be courting trouble."
• Every slice of Finnegan's blade had birthed another flash of emerald, drawing more spectators than the fair had seen all morning. People who had already left were turning back, word of his luck spreading through the dusty streets like wildfire—no small thing in the Black Triangle region where blood and loot traded places daily.