The air was thick with the scent of dust and oil, the last slivers of sunlight slipping behind the jagged skyline of the slums. The meeting spot was quiet, save for the distant hum of voices and the occasional clang of metal against metal—signs of life in a place that never truly slept.
Talia stood beside me, arms crossed, her sharp gaze scanning the alleyway ahead. We were both waiting, anticipation coiled tight in our chests. The Spiders were supposed to be here any second now.
I cast a glance at her, a flicker of unease curling in my stomach. Tonight had to go right. There was no room for error. No time for mistakes.
Then—footsteps.
I turned on instinct, muscles tensing as two figures emerged from the shadows. They moved with caution, their bodies wrapped in dark, nondescript clothing, faces hidden behind plain masks. A good head shorter than me, both of them. Too fresh. Too green. My jaw tightened. These were the ones she sent?
They stopped a few feet away, hesitating for a brief moment before one of them nodded stiffly. I narrowed my eyes.
"You here for the mission?" My voice was even, but I made sure it carried weight.
The two exchanged a glance before one of them stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Hello, boss. My name's Ron." His voice wavered slightly—nerves.
The other followed suit. "Hey, my name is Rook." Their unease clung to the air between us. I exhaled slowly. Great. Just what we needed.
"Alright," I said, leveling them with a look. "Were you briefed on the plan?"
A pause. Then, after what felt like just a second too long, they both nodded. Slowly.
I exhaled through my nose. Great.
"Good. Then listen up. We move in quiet, Talia grabs the boy, we get out. We leave a we leave this chain with the Hound's insignia an alley away—make sure it's somewhere obvious but not too neat. We want them sniffing in the wrong direction, not getting suspicious."
"Yeah, yeah, we get it," one of them muttered, a little too fast, a little too dismissive.
I clenched my jaw, biting back the urge to snap. New recruits, maybe? Just my damn luck. I glanced at Talia, catching the flicker of doubt in her eyes. It mirrored my own. She didn't trust them, and neither did I. But there was no turning back now. We had to make this work.
I gave her a short nod, hoping to at least reassure her. Even with these two, we could pull it off. We had to.
Moving like shadows, we slipped through the narrow backstreets, pressing close to the crumbling brick walls. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and cheap perfume, the distant hum of drunken laughter spilling from the windows ahead. The brothel stood at the end of the alley, its lanterns casting an amber glow onto the damp cobblestones.
Mark.
A short bastard with a taste for power he hadn't earned, leeching off the weight of his father's name. He liked to swagger in here like he owned the place, like the city bent at his feet.
Tonight, he'd learn just how little his name meant in the dark.
I turned to the rest of my party, scanning their faces, trying to gauge just how badly these two might screw this up. Stay sharp. Stay ready. That was all we could do now.
"Alright, listen up," I said, keeping my voice low but firm. "According to my sources, Mark usually takes this alley when he leaves. We wait here, stay out of sight. The second he steps out, Talia grabs him. We move fast, get out clean, and leave the Hounds' insignia behind. That clear?"
They nodded, but I didn't like the hesitation in their expressions. Uncertainty clung to them, like they weren't sure if they were more afraid of me or of what we were about to do.
I let out a slow breath, rolling the tension out of my shoulders. "It should be soon," I muttered, mostly to myself.
The night pressed in around us, thick with the scent of damp stone and the distant stench of spilled ale and perfume. The warm glow from the brothel's windows flickered against the alley walls, casting restless shadows. I fixed my eyes on the entrance, my pulse steady but alert, tracking every figure that moved inside.
Minutes. Just a few more minutes. Then, one way or another, this would be set in motion.
A sudden shout shattered the quiet, slurred and laced with drunken bravado. My pulse quickened. Could this be it?
I snapped my gaze toward the entrance, and there he was—Mark, stumbling into the night, his steps uneven, his head lolling like it was too heavy for his neck. Even from here, I could smell the alcohol clinging to him, mixing with the cheap perfume of whatever poor soul had entertained him inside.
Pathetic. The son of a powerful man, reduced to this—a wasted mess with no sense of caution. He had no idea what kind of night he was about to walk into.
He paused, squinting at his surroundings, his unfocused eyes scanning the street, probably trying to remember which way led home. I glanced at Talia and gave a sharp nod. Get ready.
She tensed, her body coiled tight, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The others stiffened too, their breath shallow, their hands instinctively shifting toward their weapons. Reality was finally settling in for them—this wasn't just talk anymore. This wasn't a plan on paper. This was real.
We held our position, waiting, watching. From everything I'd heard, Mark didn't travel with guards. Overconfident little bastard thought his father's name was enough to protect him. Maybe he had some drinking buddies lurking inside, but I didn't see anyone following.
Perfect.
We just had to wait for him to take the wrong step. One miscalculated movement, one moment of isolation, and he was ours.
And then… he started walking straight toward us. Like a lamb to the slaughter.
The night held its breath as he staggered forward, barely upright, his boots scuffing against the uneven ground. He had no idea. Not a single whisper of suspicion crossed his fogged-up mind.
We melted into the shadows, our bodies pressing against the damp, crumbling walls of the alley. Just a few more steps. He made the turn, stopped. My breath stilled. Did he notice something?
I doubted it.
A moment later, I had my answer. He fumbled with his belt, swayed slightly, then let his pants drop just enough to relieve himself right there against the wall. Filthy bastard.
I turned to Talia, catching her eye, giving the smallest nod. She barely hid her grimace, her lips curling in open disgust, but after a second, she exhaled and nodded back.
Then she moved.
One second she was crouched beside me, the next she was a blur of motion. Silent. Deadly. A few quick strides and she was on him. Before he could even process the shift in the air, she grabbed him by the the back of his neck and slammed his head against the stone wall of the whorehouse.
The sickening crack echoed through the alley. His body stiffened for a moment before going limp, his knees buckling under him.
Yeah, that had to hurt.
I turned to the new recruits. Their eyes were wide, their breath uneven. One of them muttered a quiet, Fuck me, under his breath, and the other swallowed hard, as if he'd just realized what he'd signed up for.
"You'll carry that bastard," I said, my voice leaving no room for argument.
They didn't hesitate. Not now. Their earlier nervousness had been replaced by something new—maybe respect, maybe fear. Either way, they nodded quickly and hurried toward the unconscious man, their movements unsure but eager to prove themselves. It was almost amusing, the way brutality had a way of making people fall in line.
As they lifted him between them, I crouched down, reaching into my pocket. A small slip of paper, already creased from how many times I'd folded and unfolded it, slid between my fingers. I smoothed it out and placed it neatly beside the discarded necklace—an insignia of the Hounds.
Still alive. Come and play.
Short. Taunting. Just enough to sink its teeth into them.
I exhaled, glancing down at my work. Maybe it was a bit much, but I needed them looking the wrong way, sniffing around in the wrong gutters. If the Angels thought the Hounds were responsible, they'd go straight for their throats, and that was exactly what I wanted.
A little misdirection, a little chaos—it would keep them busy while we moved forward, and If making them search for this fool in the wrong territory was the way, then so be it.
I stood and took one last look at the alley, at the blood smeared across the bricks, at the new recruits still adjusting their grip on the dead weight between them.
"Let's move," I said, and just like that, we disappeared into the night.