The cut would have been the biggest indication of her part in the club. The words Hellhound and Treasurer were emblazoned on the leather. Teagan wasn’t hiding who she was. On her back was the embroidered patch of the wolf’s head, snarling in reply to any assumption Arden had about who Teagan was and what group she was a part of. It might be surprising to some to learn that a woman was part of the Hounds. After all, they were rumored to be group of raping outlaws.
In return, Teagan assessed the other woman. She didn’t look as if she was struggling, hungry or hard hit. The woman had access to the free-net – so she was part of something. How was she tapped in if she was drifting from place to place? There were skimmed truths here. None-the-less her brows furrowed, the obvious distrust she had for the Capitol showing as much as her doubt for the pretty stranger that stood in front of her. “That fucking place is a sham.” It didn’t sit well with her that any place would turn down someone in need, especially a traveler.
“Are you safe?” Was what she decided to ask. It seemed the least confrontational of the questions she could have chosen.