Page 18 of The First Scar
I seized her wrist and hauled her left instead. We didn't speak, didn't breathe, didn't slow down until twenty paces of dark tunnel sat between us and whatever had made that sound.
Probably a rat. Debris falling from a rotting ceiling.
But I wasn't about to bet our lives onprobably.
Chapter 6
The Crownforged
The tunnels ran cold this deep. Water ankle-high, thick with silt. The walls sweated.
I rolled my neck and strolled at a leisurely pace behind her. She'd been running for ten minutes. I could picture her—mud-splattered, chest heaving, that wild hair clinging to her face. Flushed with effort and fury. And I hadn't even broken a sweat.
She still thought she was winning, though.
Adorable.
I matched my steps to hers, falling into her rhythm like a shadow stitching itself to her heels. Every splash she made, I made. Every pause, I paused. She was listening for me—that animal awareness prickling across the dark between us—but all she heard was herself.
The echo of a girl who believed she was alone.
The pebble rolled across my knuckles, smooth and patient. Just like me.
She was slowing at the fork, weighing her options.
Right. The market. Crowds. Safety.
Smart girl.
I flicked the stone loose. It skipped once, twice, then ricocheted off the far wall and plunked into the dark water ahead.
She froze.
The decision rippled through her—the way her weight shifted, the half-step back. She didn't trust it. Good instincts. But instincts aren't enough when someone's already three moves ahead.
She veered left.
Good girl.
Predatory heat flared in my core and I caught myself smirking in the dark. First the water valve. Now a pebble. Two little nudges and she was exactly where I wanted her, running full speed down a path she thought she chose.
She had no idea she was being herded.
Not yet.
I veered off through an old maintenance shaft, partly collapsed but passable if you knew where to put your weight. The stone scraped my shoulders. I didn't slow down.
Thirty seconds, and I was ahead of her.
The tunnel she'd want to take stretched out before me—the smart choice, the one that led toward the river and a dozen possible exits. Couldn't have that.
I scanned the ground until I found what I was looking for—a rat's nest, tucked against the base of the wall.
Perfect.
I tapped it with the toe of my boot. They burst out in a wave of squeaking bodies, scattering into the dark. A few more taps along the stone and the rest came scuttling after, flooding the passages I needed her to avoid.
My pace quickened as I crossed to the next tunnel, sinking into the shadows. One shoulder settled against the damp stone. And I waited.
