Don’t look.
Fie this! She should have ignored Mr. Rollings’s request!
The door gave way, and she staggered inside, nearly sprawling in her haste. Calliope slammed it shut, and the moment the bolt slid into place relief struck her, dizzying. She leaned back, spine pressed to the wood, breath coming fast. A second later, she slid to the floor.
She’d evaded those men. By some miracle.
Her attention caught on the flickering candle on the counter.
Drat! She scurried forward on her hands and feet to snuff out the light with the tips of her fingers. The room plunged into total darkness, wrapping around her like a well-worn cloak.
It’s all right, Calliope. Just a little longer.
Her gaze flicked to the narrow-curtained doorway leading to the workroom, where a stairwell spiraled up to her private rooms. She didn’t know how, but her legs made it to her living quarters in two parts determination and one part daze. Not until her arms were around Prince did her mind begin to clear.
He licked her face, and a bubble of laughter escaped from her lips. Just short of hysterical. No, most definitely hysterical.
“Dear God,” she breathed between the bouts. “What did I just witness?” A kidnapping? Amurder? Surely not. And yet she could not deny the sight of Mr. Rollings falling to the ground. Utterly terrifying! Was Mr. Rollings still alive? And what about her oil? She hated to even entertain the unbidden thought, but if those men found her goods, they’d find her, correct? If they found her...
Do not even entertain such a thought!
But the image of those men,hounds, sniffing at the package and allowing others to sniff and track her, still burst into her mind.
What would they do to her if they caught her?
They hadn’t.
Yet.
Her ears strained for any noises that might indicate the two big men had caught onto her and her shop. What had Mr. Rollings said when he’d delivered her first purchase?
Take care, Miss Turner. Brighton is run by beasts.
She’d laughed it off then, believed the older man an overly cautious tradesman. But now... now she wasn’t laughing.
She had escaped the night. But it had seen her now. And she had a horrifying feeling it would not forget her.
Was it true? Was Brighton run by beasts? Had she encountered them tonight? No matter how much she wished she could unsee what she’d witnessed, she could not.
“It’s fine,” she said to Prince after the beat of her heart finally started to settle, rubbing his back. “They didn’t catch me.” Her gazemoved to the window, and she slowly rose, padding over to peek through the window to the street below.
Not a soul stirred.
She let out a deep breath of relief. So far, she’d been remarkably lucky. If they didn’t know who had witnessed their deeds, she was in no imminent danger. However... “Should I move to another town?”
No, that wouldn’t do. Mr. Fitz had paid six months’ rent in advance, and apparently her landlord had made it clear that the payment would not be returned no matter what. Plus, her secret inheritance was generous, but not an endless pit of wealth. She and Prince were stuck here for the time being.
But what about Mr. Rollings?
You can’t help him, Calliope.
She studied the street below. If there was one thing Calliope had learned from her time with Duvessa and her daughters, it was that the world favored those who looked out for themselves. She couldn’t afford to dwell on Mr. Rollings. Her life, her survival, depended on her focusing solely on herself. However, she couldn’t do nothing at all. Her conscience would haunt her forever. So, she’d pen a letter to Mr. Fitz. He might be able to assist Mr. Rollings where she could not.
Her breath hitched as two shadows moved into the street. She jerked from the window, pressing her whole body against the wall, heart leaping several beats. After a moment, she cautiously craned her neck to confirm that she wasn’t imagining things.
Oh sun and stars, she wasn’t.
Two men tracked the street below. She recognized the caps on their heads instantly. The air froze between her lungs and throat as her gaze remained fixed on them until their silhouettes cleared the street.
