Thane’s jaw flexed. “I am. But I don’t punish them for what they are. I give them a place to be dangerous.”
That quieted Riven. It wasn’t gentle, but it felt like honesty, and he did not expect that from the Beast of House Virellien.
He looked away. “So they’re not the only strays you’ve picked up.”
“No,” Thane said, voice lower now. “Just the only ones who haven’t tried to bite me yet.”
Riven ignored the way that made his stomach twist. He focused back on the screen. “You ever give them a reason?”
Thane didn’t respond. Just tapped the edge of the console, eyes on the alley.
Something flickered in the feed, a shadow moving wrong. A figure slipped into the edge of the frame. Kieran.
Riven snapped to alert. The moment cracked, heat replaced by adrenaline that couldn’t quite wash away the taste of the air between them.
Chapter 15
The alleys of Irontide twisted like a bad dream—narrow veins of rot and shadow, sharp corners and rust-slick walls. Rain had fallen earlier, and the cobbled streets still glistened in patches, catching the orange flicker of neon signs above like dying embers. Riven moved low and silent, every step calculated, his breath barely audible as he stalked through the city’s underbelly.
Kieran moved quick, but not careful. That was his mistake. He wove between vending stalls and stairwells, glancing back only once as if he suspected a tail—but not long enough to spot the two shadows flanking him from a distance. They’d kept just far enough to stay invisible, just close enough to strike.
“He’s fast,” Thane murmured in the comms.
“He’s sloppy,” Riven replied, eyes narrowing as Kieran rounded a bend into another passageway between a crumbling tenement and an old spirit-glass shop that had gone out of business years ago.
They didn’t run. It wasn’t time. They’d agreed to let Kieran get comfortable, think he was in the clear. Then they would strike.
Riven’s fingers brushed the wall as he leaned into the corner, listening for footsteps. He could tell from the rhythm of themthat Kieran didn’t know he was being followed. He was nervous, yes, but not panicked. Riven would know the difference.
Thane came up beside him without a sound, eyes scanning ahead. “He’s cutting through the choke point.”
“Amateur,” Riven muttered.
The choke was a mess of three intersecting alleys that funneled into a single, narrow corridor. Anyone with half a brain would avoid it when being followed—it was a trap waiting to happen. But Kieran darted in like a rat bolting for a hole it didn’t realize was already watched.
Riven moved first. He slipped between shadows with practiced ease, his footfalls soundless, his body low. Years in the Seam had taught him more than how to survive—they’d taught him how to disappear. He followed the rhythm of Kieran’s movement like a second heartbeat, tracking each shift of sound, each drag of a boot against stone. A loose panel underfoot here, a barking dog to the east, the clink of a coin tossed to a street vendor—every sound painted a map.
He remembered this part of Irontide, and not fondly. The smells hadn’t changed—urine, old grease, ozone, wet magic that clung to the air like smoke after a spellfire. The buildings loomed above like leaning corpses, wires crisscrossing like veins. Riven ghosted under them, a specter in his own city.
“He’s turning north,” he murmured, eyes flicking up to a rust-streaked fire escape where a cat watched him from above, tail twitching. “Into Brine Alley.”
Thane followed without question, his presence a silent force beside him.
For a moment, they lost sight of Kieran entirely.
Riven held up a hand.
The alley here split in three. Kieran could’ve taken any of them. Riven crouched, fingers brushing the ground. A footprint. Still wet. Headed left.
“He went toward the canal,” Riven said.
Thane tilted his head. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
They veered left. Riven took point, body coiled tight as a tripwire. Every cell in his body was alert now. He didn’t get tunnel vision—he let the whole world bleed in. A rat scurried past. A flickering lamp above sputtered. And through it all, he followed the ghost of Kieran’s presence forward.
Then—movement ahead. A figure ducking around a corner. Riven pressed against the wall and held his breath. Kieran again. He slowed now, approaching a rusted chain-link fence behind an old building with shattered windows.
