Chapter 38 #2
The man stopped at the mouth of the distant alley, joining a woman who had been waiting in the shadows.
A woman who turned for the briefest of instants, and Carver froze.
It had been a mere flash. The swing of a long black braid.
The curve of a dark cheek. But even that short glimpse of her profile was a punch to his gut.
Tam.
The man shifted in front of her in the next second, blocking her from view. If it had been her at all.
“What?” Rhone asked.
Carver realized his hands were fists, his body coiled tight. His reaction had been immediate and visceral. Fury throbbed in each heavy heartbeat. All he could see were the images that had haunted his nightmares. Argent, tortured. Dead. Because of him.
No. Because of her.
“Tam.” The name hissed from between clenched teeth.
Rhone’s entire demeanor hardened. There was no mistaking his rage as he heard the name of his brother’s murderer. “Where?” the knight ground out.
Carver just started walking, sidestepping anyone who got in his way.
Rhone shouldered to his side, though he still followed Carver’s lead through the square. “Are you certain it was her?” the knight asked.
Yes. But the glimpse had been fleeting, and reason insisted he admit, “I don’t know. But I think so.”
Rhone growled low in his throat. “Why would she risk coming to Zagrev? She has to know she’s the most wanted criminal in the empire.”
Carver didn’t care about her reasoning; he was just intent on capturing her. But her association with the suspicious man pointed at one possibility. “She could be meeting with a rebel contact.” Perhaps to get help in disappearing. She had to know how vehemently she was being hunted.
The crowd parted just enough to allow him a glimpse of the alley’s mouth.
The woman was angled away from him, her hands gesturing wildly as she faced the man.
He said something in return, then strode deeper into the alley, disappearing from view.
Before following him, the slim woman turned, as if to make sure she wasn’t being followed.
And in that moment, there was no doubt. Carver would never forget that face. A woman he had once felt pity for.
Now, he felt only hatred.
“It’s her,” he seethed. He wanted to bolt after her, but they needed to close the distance first. The streets were too crowded and the alleyways of Zagrev were intricate, difficult to navigate and easy to get lost in.
They couldn’t afford to alert Tam to their presence until they were close enough to actually catch her.
He refused to lose her—or any rebels she might be meeting with.
Carver started moving, with Rhone mirroring him. He shot a glance at the knight. “She’s dangerous. Don’t underestimate her.” Not like he—or Rivard—had.
Rhone’s expression darkened, obviously following Carver’s thoughts.
They moved quickly but quietly through the crowd, headed for the alleyway Tam had disappeared down.
Carver hadn’t brought his longsword, and he regretted that now.
Still, in the confines of a narrow alley, knives would be better anyway.
He withdrew one from his belt. From the corner of his eye, he saw Rhone draw one of his own.
Saints, he’d never imagined he would enter a fight with Rhone Quinn at his side.
Near the alley’s mouth, an older man managing a wooden cart laden with an assortment of fruit noticed their drawn blades. His face paled.
“Church business,” Rhone snapped. “Keep quiet and out of the way.”
The man’s eyes slashed over Rhone’s unmistakable uniform, and he shrank back with a short, terrified nod, even as he made the sign to ward off evil.
Rhone and Carver entered the alley swiftly and silently. There was no sign of Tam, but the shadows weren’t deep enough to hide her and there were no doors or windows along the buildings. There was only one way she could have gone: forward.
They moved among the refuse that littered the alley, the cloying stench of rotted food mingling with the acrid scent of urine—and worse.
Carver tried not to breathe too deeply. He also tried not to think of how stealthily Rhone moved.
Like a perfectly trained soldier. Or what he really was: a hunter, trained to kill empaths.
Their steps slowed only a little as they neared the end of the alley, an ingrained caution that had saved Carver’s life on multiple occasions. The alley’s exit allowed only two easy options, left or right, since a hulking building sat in front of them.
He met Rhone’s glance, and they shared a short nod before they each peeked around a different corner.
Carver saw nothing to the right, but he heard Rhone’s lowly exhaled, “Here.”
He shifted to look, and there was Tam, making her way down the slightly curving alleyway. She was walking beside the man she’d met in the square. Carver moved to follow, but Rhone caught his arm and dragged him back. Just in time, since Tam had started to throw a look over her shoulder.
Carver pressed his back against the alley wall, gritting his teeth to keep from springing after her.
After a couple of heartbeats, Rhone slowly—carefully—peered around the corner. A muscle in his jaw worked. “They’re still moving . . . turning right . . .”
Carver knew they must have disappeared from view because Rhone was suddenly moving after them. Carver was right on his heels, his grip on his dagger firm and ready.
They jogged quietly down the curved alley, passing doors with peeling paint that may have once been bright, but were now layered in grime.
Carver tried to avoid the suspect puddles on the ground—it hadn’t rained in days—and he and Rhone both attempted to keep their footfalls quiet against the cobbled street, especially as they approached the alleyway Tam must have vanished down.
They were nearly there when four men charged around the corner, rushing them with drawn knives glinting.