Satisfied that I’d covered all possible locations, I grabbed the stack and slipped out the back door, relocking it behind me. I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness as the air cooled my sweaty skin. I’d left my cloak back at HQ. It was the middle of the warm season. The night air remained a reasonable temperature a little longer each evening. And since I was three and a half months pregnant, I stayed warmer as well.
An extra-deep pool of black appeared next to me. Instinctively I dodged to the side as metal flashed, and a sharp coldness nicked the left side of my neck before striking the door behind me. I dove to the right and hit the ground with a thud. The blackness cursed and followed me. I hissed as a blade seared a path along my left bicep. I kept rolling deeper into the darkness—my only defensive play at this point. Fear pulsed, urging me to hurry.
A narrow beam of yellow light sliced through the darkness. My attacker had come prepared. Lovely. The light swept the ground, searching and then finding me. Caught in the beam long enough to be a target, I somersaulted to my feet as the thwack of a crossbow sounded. Debris pelted me when the bolt ricocheted off the ground nearby. Too close. My heart jumped in my chest. Another bolt clipped my right side, the pain a mere nuisance in the grander scheme of things.
I raced for the end of the alley, zigzagging as much as possible and hoping with all my soul that a second ambusher didn’t wait for me at the end. A third bolt sailed past. I shot from the alley and increased my pace, no longer caring about staying in the shadows. Glancing behind, I spotted a black-clad figure aiming a crossbow in my direction. Ice skittered down my sweat-soaked back. I changed course, spinning to the left just as the bolt whizzed by my ear. The air from its passage fanned my face. Not stopping to marvel at either my good luck or his lousy aim, I dove for the shadows and ran.
Hours later—or so it seemed to my starved lungs—I slowed and ducked into a dark shadow. Bending over, I gasped for breath. So much for staying in shape. Although running for your life wasn’t exactly something you could train for. Plus I’d gained a few baby pounds. The thought sent a new spike of fear right through me. I ran my fingers along the gash on my side, seeking its depth. I sighed with relief—only a flesh wound. Then I remembered my other injuries, and they flared to painful life. The one on my neck was also shallow, but the cut on my arm would need to be sealed. I sagged against the building for a moment. Not only my life but also the baby’s had been in danger.
Once I recovered, I realized I still clutched the files from Bavol’s office. I would have laughed, but the sound might have attracted the wrong attention. Dozens more soldiers had been patrolling the streets since the Cartel declared martial law and set a curfew. To avoid them, I took the most roundabout path back to HQ, ensuring no one followed me. By the time I tapped on the hidden door, the first rays of dawn lit the white marble of the Citadel.
Hilly, one of the Helper’s Guild members, let me in. She raised an eyebrow at my disheveled and bloody appearance.
“I ran into a bit of trouble,” I said.
She quirked a smile. “Not as much as when Valek returns.”
Oh no. “Did he...”
“Yep. He stopped in about an hour ago, but when he heard you hadn’t returned, he took off to look for you.”
I wilted.
Hilly took pity on me. “Come on. We’ll wake the healer and get you cleaned up before he comes back.”
I followed her through HQ. Since the building Fisk had once used to house his Helper’s Guild had been seized by the Cartel, he’d found another empty structure tucked almost out of sight in the northwest quadrant of the Citadel to use as a temporary base of operations. Now his people helped us in our efforts to stop the Cartel from taking complete control of Sitia. The so-called resistance.
Sleeping barracks occupied most of the lower level. The members of the guild spanned in age from six years old to eighteen. The kids didn’t mind the close quarters, and some happily shared a bed. The extra-large kitchen took up the rest of the level. The two upper floors contained Fisk’s room and office, a small suite for Valek and me, and a number of guest rooms for our growing army. Our farmhouse in the Stormdance lands had been a useful place to plan and recuperate during the last month, but we’d quickly learned that we needed to be closer to Bruns.