8. Hailstorm of Iron and Timber #2
A chill ran down my spine. Not at the threat—at the certainty behind it. You didn't need to know someone's story to recognize that what waited on the other end of those words was something no one should be sent back to.
If Griffon made it to the top, I had to be sure the rest of them couldn’t get onto the roof.
I eyed the cast-iron hoist and pulley at the very top of the exterior wall near the edge of the roof.
It was used to lift heavy objects to the upper floors of the warehouse.
With any luck, it would help me do the exact opposite.
A thick rope ran through the pulley and lay on the roof, out of the way of the construction.
Running over, I found the end haphazardly tossed amongst the debris.
I grabbed it and hurried to the wheelbarrow, twining the rope through the leg supports and the brace below the tray, careful to avoid the front brace near the wheel.
It would need to roll freely. Once it was tangled, I tied it off and found the other end of the rope.
And much to my delight, this end had a large cast-iron hook.
The men were ascending closer to the roof, their grunts and the clashing of swords growing louder.
I moved along the edge of the roof toward the scaffolding.
The corner upright was within my reach. Eyeing the fraying clove-hitch knot tying the upright to the horizontal bearer, I hoped the weight of the wheelbarrow would be enough.
As the structure shook under their movements, I hooked it around the trembling upright and bolted back to the wheelbarrow.
Grasping the rough wooden handles, I pushed. The wheelbarrow was so heavy it didn’t budge. I shot a panicked glance at the scaffolding. They hadn’t crested the top yet. My eyes flicked back to the gravel-strewn strip of roof between the wheel and the edge. I shoved at the handles, arms burning.
The wheel wobbled forward. I stumbled, feet skidding, clawing for purchase. Step by step, the parapet edged closer. Sweat broke across my brow, every inch feeling like an eternity of effort. It rolled closer and closer to where the parapet had long since broken away.
I stopped when the front wheel teetered dangerously on the edge. My eyes darted back to the scaffolding supports and held as I readied to spring.
A thought passed through my over-addled brain as I stood there. I wasn’t certain who were the good guys and who were the bad ones. Soldiers of my kingdom or a surly, menacing man I had met only a few hours ago.
I had very few people in my life. Fewer than I once did. I’d taken Sparrow for granted. I understood it made me fiercely protective of those I had left. But I didn’t know this man, and the odds were high that I would deeply regret this.
Griffon’s blond waves appeared as he climbed up onto the top planking. He knocked a sword away from below him and turned. This was the same surly, menacing man who had saved my life. More than once, if he was right about my fate at the Citadel.
Our eyes met, and without another thought, I shoved.
The wheel dropped off the edge. For a terrifying moment, the leg supports hooked onto the ledge.
I sucked in a breath, but then they finally gave way and plummeted.
The rope snapped tight on the pulley, quickly followed by the hook slamming against the upright.
A sharp crack split the air as the corner of the scaffolding gave way, splinters flying like shrapnel.
Griffon didn’t hesitate. He leapt onto the roof as it tilted and buckled.
And then it collapsed.
Sharp cracks rang out as the wood splintered and snapped.
Voices raised in alarm, but were swiftly drowned out by a thunderous hailstorm of iron and timber.
My teeth rattled with the vibration as dust erupted into the air.
The storm of destruction rained down with the clatter and crashing of loose tools and supplies.
A brief hush suddenly settled over the wreckage. And then the scaffolding gave one last shuddering groan and thudded to the ground.
Stomach twisting, my conscience scrambled to justify hurting those men.
Clouds of dust hovered in the air.
Griffon’s gaze flicked from the pulley down to the wheelbarrow and the mess I’d made. Then his eyes found me. They caught on the bruises forming and the tear in my shirt, but his face stayed maddeningly blank.
“I was just going to push it over,” he said flatly.
I chewed the inside of my cheek, staring down at the disaster. “Oh.” Heat crept up my neck. “In my defense,” I added, trying not to sound annoyed, “you didn’t exactly inform me of the plan.”
His eyes narrowed. Though not in anger. Something else. Like he was trying to figure out a puzzle he didn’t want to solve. He grunted a noncommittal sound and turned. With tight shoulders, he scanned the rooftops.
“Come on.”
I stumbled after him, my pulse thudding loud enough to drown out my own footsteps. “That was…” I started, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say. Terrifying? Impressive? Or maybe just proof that I wasn’t completely hopeless?
“Clever,” he muttered, not looking back.
I opened my mouth to answer, but he’d already vaulted to the other side of a gap between the buildings. Skidding to a stop at the edge, I eyed the gap. He’d jumped it as if it were nothing.
To me, it looked like a nice, quick way to plummet to my death.
He shot a look over his shoulder, his jaw clenched. For a heartbeat, I thought he’d leave me for no other reason than the fact that I had short legs.
But then he stepped back to the edge and held out his hand.
“Jump. I’ll catch you.”
I hesitated, my toes curling in my boots. The distance may not look like much now. But I had some concerns about what it would look like midair with nothing beneath me…while trusting the man who’d considered throwing me off a cliff only hours ago. Maybe this wasn’t a good—
“Now,” he snapped. “Before they regroup.”
I jumped.
His hand clamped around my wrist and hauled me forward. My boots caught on uneven stone, and I slammed into him hard enough to lose my breath. His other hand steadied me at the waist. Just for a moment. His mouth flattened into a line that looked practiced. A look trained not to give anything away.
Then he let go all at once, as if the contact had burned him.
“Keep up,” he said, already turning away.
I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t dismissal. He didn’t thank me for saving him from Koel and a handful of soldiers. But then, gratitude didn’t seem to be his thing.
As we ran, he kept glancing back. But it wasn’t annoyance I saw in his eyes. Whatever it was, it gave me a sneaky suspicion that he wasn’t checking for delays. But checking on me. Making sure I was still on my feet. Still breathing.
The moment our eyes met, he snapped his gaze forward as if he’d been caught doing something embarrassing.
I grinned at his discomfort when his back was turned.
He wouldn’t say anything. That was clear. But I wondered if he hid his words in the way he kept track of me. Words like appreciation. Maybe even a little pride. The kind he’d never admit to unless someone held him over the edge and shook it out of him.
We moved from rooftop to rooftop until we descended back to the street.
This time, Griffon steered clear of the main roads, staying to the dark alleys instead.
Thick fog rolled over the cobblestones, bringing with it the briny tang of the sea.
He slowed as we came to the end of a narrow alleyway filled with crates and discarded netting.
Even though he had mentioned we were heading to the docks, it didn’t occur to me we’d be getting on a boat until we reached the harbor. Panic shot up my spine, and my breath lodged in my throat. Twin stars above, the water…again.