⌐╦ᡁ᠊╾━
Safety didn't last.
We should've known. The silence and escape in that building felt too easy.
The contact- Gregor- moves around the house like he owns it, pouring drinks, talking too smooth. He doesn't check the locks twice- or the windows once.
That's not the man I used to know.
And the way his eyes linger on Lila- like she's a currency, not a person- has my knuckles itching.
He smiles, but his eyes are are already somewhere else.
And that's when I see it.
Gregor shifts slightly, tilting his head towards the back door like he's listening for a knock only he knows is coming. The hairs on my neck rise.
Betrayal.
The silence detonates as the door crashes open- men flooding in, boots cracking tile.
Lila gasps, but I've already yanked her down, flipping the table as a shield.
We tear through the kitchen- plates shattering, glass exploding. Gregor shouts, but I don't listen. I don't need to. He's on their side, not ours.
The only way out is up. I slam my shoulder into the back window, glass raining down. I hook a cloth over the jagged frame and haul her through. Voices roar behind us.
Outside, the alley is already alive with smoke and drums- the festival spilling into the night.
Perfect cover.
"Blend in," I hiss, shoving a mask into her hands from a passing vendor's stall. I drag one down over my own face, the rough feathers scratching my cheeks.
We melt into the swarm of bodies as Syndicate soldiers spill from the safe house, eyes scanning.
The crowd swallows us whole- music pounding, laughter rising, colours blurring. I realise Lila's risk, but instead of letting her drift, I lock my fingers through hers.
Too close. Too reckless.
But it's the only way to anchor her to me in this chaos.
Overhead, fireworks erupt in a storm, drowning the shouts behind us. For a heartbeat, it feels like the night itself is on our side- bright, deafening, relentless.