The chaos in the market did not end with the scream. It grew. Merchants abandoned their stalls, baskets of fruits overturned, tomatoes crushed under fleeing feet, and fishmongers left their goods to rot in the sun as panic swallowed the air.
Amidst the stampede, Matt struggled to keep her balance. The metallic scent of blood mixed with the stench of sweat and dust, filling her lungs. She tightened her grip on her satchel, knowing what it carried was worth more than gold worth more than her life.
Somewhere in the frenzy, a hand brushed against her arm. She turned sharply. It wasn't Kelvin.
"Run!" a voice shouted, and a heavy push sent her stumbling forward. She didn't look back.
Kelvin had warned her that the market wasn't safe, that Richard's men had eyes everywhere. Now she believed him. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she darted into a narrow alley, her sandals scraping against the rough stones. Behind her, the sounds of pursuit echoed boots pounding, voices calling.
"Don't let her escape!"
The hunters had found her.
Matt pressed herself against the damp wall of the alley, fighting to control her breath. A shadow passed, then another. She could hear them searching, their blades clinking, their laughter sharp and cruel.
Then came another sound one she knew too well. Kelvin's whistle.
Her chest loosened with relief.
He emerged from the smoke and confusion, tall and grim, his shirt stained with blood that wasn't his. In his hand, the dagger gleamed, dripping red.
"Matt," he said in a low, urgent tone. "Give me the bag. Now."
She froze. Something about his voice didn't sound right. It was colder, heavier, almost dangerous.
"The bag, Matt," Kelvin repeated, stepping closer. "They won't stop until they get it. Let me handle this."
Her fingers tightened around the satchel's strap. For a moment she wanted to trust him after all, he had saved her more than once. But then she remembered: it was Kelvin's betrayal that had first delivered her into Richard's hands.
"How do I know I can trust you?" she whispered.
Kelvin's jaw tightened. He glanced at the mouth of the alley, then back at her. "Because if you don't, we both die here."
A loud crash echoed nearby barrels knocked over. The pursuers were close. Too close.
Matt's mind raced. Trusting Kelvin might be suicide. But refusing him could cost her the one chance to escape.
Before she could decide, the first of Richard's men appeared at the far end of the alley. Their machetes glinted in the fading sunlight.
Kelvin's eyes met hers. There was no time left.
"Matt," he said, voice breaking for the first time, "please."
She swallowed hard, then thrust the satchel into his chest. The moment his hand closed around it, the men charged.
Kelvin moved like a shadow. His dagger slashed through the air, drawing cries of pain. One man dropped instantly, clutching his throat. Another swung a blade at Kelvin's head, but he ducked low, driving his dagger deep into the man's ribs.
Matt watched in frozen horror. She had seen blood before, but never like this. Never so close, never from the man she wasn't sure she loved or hated.
"Move!" Kelvin barked, shoving her toward the opposite end of the alley.
She stumbled forward, her legs shaky, but forced herself to run. Behind her, steel clashed against steel, men groaned and cursed, and somewhere, someone screamed in agony.
When she glanced back, she saw Kelvin fighting like a man possessed. Every strike was precise, every movement fueled by fury. But for each enemy he felled, more came.
Matt's lungs burned as she reached the street beyond the alley. The crowd had thinned here; most of the market had emptied. She turned, waiting, praying.
Kelvin burst out of the alley, blood dripping from his arm, the satchel still in his grip.
"They're calling for reinforcements," he said through clenched teeth. "We can't stay here."
Matt wanted to ask where they would go, but before she could, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into another side street. His grip was strong, almost desperate, as though letting her go meant losing everything.
They ran until the market noises faded behind them, until only the pounding of their footsteps and the echo of their breaths filled the night.
Finally, Kelvin slowed, dragging her into a deserted courtyard surrounded by crumbling walls.
Matt yanked her hand free, chest heaving. "You almost got us killed back there!"
Kelvin dropped the satchel at his feet and leaned against the wall, blood soaking through his sleeve. His eyes met hers, dark and unreadable. "And yet… we're still alive."
"That doesn't mean I should trust you," she shot back, her voice trembling.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he unstrapped his belt, tearing a piece of cloth to bind his wound. His jaw clenched as the fabric tightened, but his gaze never left her.
"You don't have to trust me, Matt," he said finally, his tone softer now. "But you need me. And I…" His voice faltered, just for a moment. "I need you too."
Matt's heart twisted painfully. She hated that part of her still wanted to believe him, still wanted to reach out and wipe the blood from his face. But another part whispered that this man was dangerous that he could be her salvation or her destruction.
Silence settled between them, heavy and suffocating.
Then, from beyond the walls, came the sound of whistles. Sharp. Close. Richard's men hadn't given up.
Kelvin's hand closed around the satchel once more. His eyes hardened. "We move. Now."
Matt knew she had no choice. She followed him into the shadows, unaware that every step deeper into the night was also a step deeper into a fate she could no longer control.