The horn faded, leaving the air heavy.
Then came the footsteps.
Slow at first, crunching over broken glass somewhere below. Then faster. More than one set.
Lena's voice was low but sharp. "Back room. Now."
I followed her into a narrow hall lit only by the moon through a cracked window. The floor creaked under us.
A heavy THUD hit the front door. Dust rained from the ceiling.
"They're breaking in," I said.
"No kidding," she shot back.
Another THUD—the wood groaned.
"Who are they?" I demanded.
"Later," she said. "Move."
We reached a wall lined with shelves stacked with empty jars. Lena shoved them aside, revealing a wooden panel. She yanked it open to expose a narrow tunnel.
"In."
"You've got secret tunnels?"
"I've got enemies," she said, pushing me forward. "Go!"
I ducked inside. The air was damp and stale, smelling of stone and old earth. The sound of the door breaking echoed behind us.
We moved fast through the darkness, her hand on my shoulder guiding me. The tunnel bent left, then right, the ground sloping down.
From somewhere above came muffled voices—low, male, and too close.
"They're following us," I whispered.
"Not for long."
She picked up the pace, practically shoving me ahead. My boots slipped on loose dirt, my breath loud in the confined space.
"How often does this happen to you?" I asked.
"Too often," she said.
We reached the end of the tunnel—a hatch blocked by a pile of crates. Lena slid them aside with surprising strength, then pushed the hatch open. Cold night air rushed in.
"Out."
I climbed through, emerging into what had once been a garage. The roof was half-collapsed, moonlight spilling through the gaps. Lena followed, closing the hatch behind her and dragging one of the crates back into place.
We didn't linger. She grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward a gap in the wall.
We slipped into an alley, the night suddenly feeling too open.
"Stay low," she murmured.
We moved in a crouch, hugging the shadows. The sound of boots on pavement came from somewhere nearby.
"They're splitting up," Lena said. "They'll try to circle us."
"Great. So what's the plan?"
She glanced at me, her eyes catching the moonlight. "Don't die."
"Very helpful."
"Shh."
We froze against the wall as two figures passed the alley entrance, their shapes outlined against the dim light of the street. One carried a long curved blade, the other some kind of rifle.
The rifleman paused. Turned his head.
Lena's hand pressed against my chest, holding me still. I could feel her heartbeat—fast but steady.
The man lingered for a few seconds longer before moving on.
We exhaled at the same time.
"Let's go," she said, pulling me deeper into the maze of alleys.
We moved quickly now, weaving between buildings, stepping over piles of rubble. My mind raced with questions I couldn't ask—not if I wanted to follow her rules.
After what felt like an eternity, we reached the edge of the city. Ahead loomed a cluster of warehouses, their windows shattered, roofs sagging.
Lena led me to one that looked ready to collapse. She slipped inside through a gap in the wall, and I followed.
The air inside was heavy with dust. Pigeons stirred in the rafters, wings flapping as they retreated to the shadows.
She didn't speak until we were in the center of the room.
"They won't track us this far tonight," she said, finally lowering the crossbow.
I leaned against a rusted steel beam, catching my breath. "You want to tell me what that was all about?"
Her gaze held mine. "They're hunters. They track men. Sell them. Trade them. Kill them. Depends on who's buying."
I swallowed hard. "So when you say 'worse' than death…"
Her silence was answer enough.
I ran a hand over my face. "And you? You're just… what? Someone who happened to be in the right place?"
Her lips curved, but not in a friendly way. "Wrong place, actually."
Something about the way she said it sent a shiver down my spine.
Before I could respond, she crossed to a dusty crate and sat on it, still watching me.
"You're either very lucky or very stupid, Daniel."
"Can't I be both?"
Her expression didn't change. "We'll rest here a few hours. Then we move."
"To where?"
"You'll find out when we get there."
I wanted to push for more, but the weight in her voice told me I wouldn't like the answer.
Somewhere far off, a horn sounded again—fainter this time, but still too close for comfort.
Lena stood, crossbow in hand once more.
"They're not giving up," she said. "And neither are we."