"Do you mean the people who've been following us?"
"Who else would she mean?"
Mirelle rolled her eyes.
Then, as if by unspoken agreement, both girls hooked their arms around Lugh's own.
...
Back on the streets, the four men who had been tailing the three suspiciously well-dressed youths suddenly saw them lock arms—and without warning—swerve into a narrow, dimly lit alley.
They paused.
Two of the men exchanged looks.
"So… should we wait, or—"
"Wait for what?"
Their leader cut in flatly.
He had a faint scar running down the length of his chin, the kind that suggested long practice in reckless decision-making. He took one step forward, gaze fixed on the alley's mouth.
"Let's move."
No more discussion. All four men slipped forward, stepping into the darkness with the confidence of people who'd done this a hundred times before.
