Victor didn’t look back.

He had no idea how close the mercenary was behind him, and he really couldn’t spare a single glance, seeing as it was taking all of his agility to not slip and tumble down the rickety apartment staircase.

A metal bolt ricocheted off the pavement in front of him just as he made it to the ground floor, chipping up flakes of stone. Victor cursed under his breath, but he continued running, taking a dangerous flying leap over the wrought iron gate and performing a flawless roll back up to his feet upon landing.

If it weren’t for the massive spike of nervous energy coursing through his body and the immediate threat to his life, he would have been thoroughly amazed by pulling off such a feat of unexpected athleticism.

As it was, he made straight for the nearest alleyway.

Heart pounding, Victor’s mind raced as he tried to figure out the best route to lose his assailant — and that’s when he realized that the alleyway he had chosen was one with a dead end.

Fuck.

Victor glanced back.

There was no sign of the black armored woman, but he didn’t doubt for a moment that she hadn’t seen which alleyway he had chosen. Looking around frantically, almost on the verge of panic, Victor spotted a rusty trash bin next to a slightly recessed doorway.

The first thing he tried upon reaching the door was to open it, but it was locked, just as he expected. With no other option, Victor flattened himself against it, inching over to the side of the alcove nearer to the end of the alleyway where he entered.

Just a couple seconds later, he heard the pounding of boots approaching. Holding his breath, Victor flattened himself even tighter against the cool steel — and then, just as his pursuer was about to rush past, he kicked the rusty old bin straight into her path.

Tripping over the unexpected obstacle, the woman tumbled to the ground with an undignified yelp. Unlike Victor, she didn’t quite manage to pull off a forward roll, instead crumpling gracelessly into a tangled up heap.

Victor made no attempt to take the momentary advantage to fight back. Even with his opponent face down on the ground, he did not want to get into unarmed combat against someone who was taller, heavier, healthier, and undoubtedly better trained than him — not to mention the fact that she was most definitely the opposite of unarmed.

Instead, he ran as fast as he could back down the alleyway — but not before kicking her crossbolt aside.

A heavy sheet of rain came crashing down all at once just as he rounded the corner back out to the main street. Ordinarily, Victor would curse being so instantly and thoroughly soaked, but at the moment, he could only be thankful for the potential cover that the darkness and rain might provide him.

As he rounded the block, Victor couldn’t resist sparing a glance back. The armored woman had just made it out of the alleyway herself, and it seemed she had left her crossbolt behind. She also appeared to be in the process of fumbling about with a small watertight leather bag, attempting to stuff the tome inside.

She’s trying to keep it dry.

As he returned his attention to the path ahead of him, Victor grinned and shook his head, finding humor even in the perilous situation. Why was she worried about the book getting wet? It was a Focus. They were indestructible.

Unless she wasn’t aware of the book’s nature…

Putting away those thoughts, Victor continued running in the direction of the mercantile district. It would be far easier to lose her there — not only were there far more obstructions, twists and turns, and places to hide, but many of the buildings would let people inside.

Perhaps he could lose her in a shop.

Unfortunately, given the sound of her footsteps — even muffled through the rain — it sounded like she was gaining on him.

Curse this malnourished twig of a body.

But he continued to run as hard as he could — ever on the lookout for somewhere where he would have a better chance of getting away from her.

A quick glance backwards showed that the situation was even worse than he feared. His pursuer was only several paces behind him, and she seemed far less winded — though it was a bit difficult to tell with only a brief glance through the heavy rain.

They were almost to the outskirts of the mercantile district, but Victor didn’t think he would make it that far. And even then, there was no guarantee that just getting there would do anything to help him get away from her.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

It would be mere seconds before she was close enough to grab him. With no other options and nothing to lose, Victor decided he needed to do something bold.

Go big or go home.

Victor stopped.

Skidding to a halt across the wet pavement, Victor crouched down, planting himself as low and as firmly to the ground below as he was able. His assailant plowed into him from behind, the force of her momentum nearly toppling him over — but Victor remained firm.

The woman tumbled over him, and right when she was just over halfway over him — Victor pushed up.

His plan worked. His assailant flew forward, tumbling head over heels into a graceless landing. The sound of something crunching as she landed would normally make Victor wince, but now he felt nothing but satisfaction.

Victor always avoided fights. Fighting was an easy way to get killed — or worse, in some cases. Brave men die in glory, but cowards live. Victor had lived by that maxim, as had Lord Harvey.

But Lord Harvey was now dead. For all his cleverness, his subtlety, even his delicately wielded power — Lord Harvey had fallen victim to the whims of violence all the same.

Now, it was Victor’s turn.

But Victor wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Without giving her time to recover, Victor delivered as savage a kick as he was able directly to her side. Instinct had told him to go for her neck, but he had already observed that a thick metallic collar protected it from blows.

She groaned. Victor raised his leg to deliver another blow, but she rolled over just in time to grab his other leg and yank him off balance.

Victor landed hard. The wind was driven out of him completely, his entire back felt like how it felt to be hit in the balls, and it was only pure luck that prevented him from cracking his head on the pavement.

Before he could sit up from the puddle he found himself in, his assailant was on top of him, pinning both arms down with her own. Fuck. She was way stronger than him. The only good thing about the situation was that pinning him down fully occupied both her arms, putting them in a bit of a stalemate.

At least until she bent down, jaw unhinged.

Victor stared wide eyed. Was she about to try to rip out his throat? Yeah hell no. Not letting that happen. With his arms completely pinned and his legs being crushed by her weight on top of them, Victor’s range of motion was rather limited.

Fortunately, her head was rather close to his own, and it didn’t take much physical effort — only willpower — to bash his own skull against hers.

The painful impact sent her reeling back, and she briefly let go of Victor’s right arm.

That was all the opening he needed.

Her armor was practically covered in weaponry, though most of it was protected in latched pouches. But the sharpened iron spikes for her now discarded crossbolt were easily accessible on her waist, and Victor had little trouble snatching one — even despite the slipperiness of the rain.

Just as she lunged back down, he buried the stake in her eye.

She staggered, releasing her grip entirely and collapsing backwards into the rapidly deepening puddle herself. Victor didn’t hesitate. Despite the ache suffusing his body, he heaved himself up and then dropped down on top of her, grabbing hold of the spike once more.

He stabbed her in the throat for good measure.

Soul harvested.

Harvested souls: 1

----------------------------------------

Victor had been wandering the city streets aimlessly for what felt like hours. The rain had mostly stopped, but Victor couldn’t remember when. In fact, he had no idea where he was, or even how he got there.

He had just killed a human being.

Yes, she had attacked him. She clearly worked for a violently deranged man who had just tortured another young man much like him, and who had most likely kidnapped his only remaining family to do — well, Victor didn’t really want to think about it.

If Victor hadn’t done what he had, he didn’t doubt that she would have taken his own life just as easily — had Lord Grantly not wanted him alive, at least.

That didn’t make him any less miserable.

…If miserable was even the right word. Victor didn’t feel… sad. Just numb. He barely registered the chill seeping through his soaked clothes and into his bones, or the ache in his muscles, or the headache pounding through his skull.

He couldn’t say she didn’t deserve it. He couldn’t even fault himself — but he felt empty all the same.

As Victor gradually began to pay a bit more attention to his surroundings, he realized he had just passed by a familiar dumpster. Frowning, he stopped and turned around.

He knew where he was now. He had only been here once, but he learned his way around new territory quickly, and it had only been about twenty four hours ago, even if it felt longer.

Staring down at the water pooling away from his feet and into the drainage system of the dungeon, Victor considered his options.

He couldn’t just wander aimlessly forever. If Lord Grantly’s agents didn’t get him, the elements would. He couldn’t avoid making a decision — because even walking away from everything and letting death take him was still a choice.

Shifting his gaze from the ground up to the sky above, Victor came to a decision. He would turn himself in.

He didn’t like the idea. Loathed it, in fact. But what better option did he have for saving the remainder of his family? The idea of taking on Lord Grantly and whoever else was involved was, frankly, absurd. The scale of the power contained within just the artifacts they kept down in the vault was ridiculous.

And what if he went to the city guard? Yes, that would certainly go over well. His word — that of a no name, thieving orphan — versus that of one of the wealthiest, most powerful, and influential men in the city.

It’s not like he had any actual evidence anyway.

Of course, he didn’t expect that turning himself in would be enough to free Chloe, or James, or Jackie, or even little Ezra — Lord Grantly had shown himself to be cruel indeed.

But perhaps, with enough cooperation, there would be a chance.

“I thought I told you to never come back here again.”

Whirling around, Victor stared down the empty alleyway, before finally flicking his gaze upward. A pair of emerald green eyes appraised him from over the rim of the dumpster. Flicking back her ruby red hair, Deva climbed up and dropped down to the ground, creating a splash with her waterproof boots as she did so.

“So what the fuck are you doing here?”

Victor halfheartedly wanted to come up with a witty reply, but he simply lacked the energy. “I’m not sure. I just sort of ended up here.”

She frowned and crossed her arms. “You’re not thinking of doing anything stupid, are you.”

“I’m going to turn myself in to Lord Grantly.”

Striding forward, Deva stopped uncomfortably close to Victor’s face. And then she slapped him. Hard.

“No the fuck you’re not.”