Chapter 37 The Escape & The Marker
I waited until his grip loosened. Just a fraction. He was muttering something, sounding more annoyed than worried now, and his hands weren't clutching me so tight. That was my window.
I didn't think. I just moved. I jammed my elbow right into his ribcage.
Hard. Claus let out a sharp, surprised grunt and his arms jerked back.
That was all the leverage I needed. I shoved off his chest, scrambled onto my feet, and didn't even look back.
I practically face-planted toward the bookstore exit.
"Ilse!"
I heard him shouting, but I didn't care.
I hit the door, shoved it open, and dove out into the street.
The rain was freezing. It was a miserable, stinging downpour that turned the cobblestones into a slip-and-slide.
I didn't run like a lady, I ran like a damn fugitive.
I was sliding, stumbling, arms flailing, practically tackling a guy carrying a basket of bread as I sprinted toward the corner.
"Move! Get out of the way!" I screamed at nobody in particular.
My carriage was there, thank the gods. The driver looked terrified as I came tearing around the corner, soaking wet and gasping for air. I didn't wait for him to open the door, I ripped it open myself and threw my body inside, slamming it shut behind me.
"Drive!" I yelled, my voice cracking. "Go! Just get us out of here!"
The carriage jolted forward, the wheels spinning in the mud before finding traction.
I collapsed against the seat, clutching my chest.
My heart was going a thousand miles an hour, thumping so hard it hurt my ribs.
I was shaking, partly from the cold, partly from the sheer, adrenaline-fueled terror of having been two inches away from a guy who'd probably love to put my head on a pike.
My face felt like it was on fire. I wiped the rain and sweat off my forehead, looking like a total wreck in the reflection of the glass.
I lied to him. I actually lied to his face. And he... he didn't kill me.
Back at the bookstore, the street was deserted.
The rain was washing away the footprints of my frantic escape.
Claus stood under the flickering shop sign, his black coat drenched.
He wasn't moving. He didn't chase Ilse. He just watched the carriage wheels splash through the mud until the vehicle disappeared around the bend.
He looked down at his hand.
Lying in his palm was a single, delicate silk glove.
Ilse must have dropped it when she shoved him.
He turned it over, the fabric still slightly warm.
He stayed there for a long minute, just staring at the empty street where she'd been a second ago.
Then, his expression shifted. The icy, stone-cold glare he'd worn all night just...
evaporated. He let out a short, bewildered huff of air.
"She likes me?" he murmured to the rain.
He looked at the glove again, and against his better judgment, a lopsided smile broke across his face.
It wasn't his usual, scary 'I'm-going-to-execute-you' smirk.
It was genuine. Confused, maybe, but real.
He stood there for a while longer, watching the rain hit the cobblestones, still smiling like a total idiot at a scrap of fabric.
"Crazy woman," he whispered to the dark street, though he didn't sound like he believed it. He tucked the glove into his coat, right over his heart, and started walking the other way.