The Intruder had almost made it. But just as he hurried past a small house with a sagging roof, its door creaked open.
A teenage boy stepped outside, hair messy, rubbing his eyes while yawning widely. He shuffled down the steps on bare feet, clearly intending to head to the latrines behind the house. His brain had not yet caught up with his body.
Until he saw the man in black.
The boy froze.
For an instant, they stared at each other. The intruder's eyes went wide with shock, the boy's with sudden, sharp fear.
Then the boy sucked in a breath.
"Thie–!"
He never finished the word.
The intruder lunged, one gloved hand clamping over the boy's mouth, the other wrapping around his throat. The boy thrashed, eyes bulging, knees kicking against the dirt.
But the sound had already escaped.
In the dead of night, that half formed shout was enough.
Shutters rattled. Lamps were lit. Doors slid open up and down the alley.
