Chapter 8: Serena’s POV
Even through the curtain of rain, it was impossible to miss those two Alphas. The tension between them seemed to thin the very air around them.
I pressed my back against the brick wall of a dark alley, watching the vagrant called Lan pin the nobleman's arm with one hand.
"What's this—you fancy yourself a savior?" The nobleman ground his teeth, murder in his eyes. "Who the hell do you think you are?"
"Doesn't matter who I am." A smirk tugged at the corner of Lan's mouth. "What matters is—he's under my protection."
"Alright, you two rutting wolves." I rolled my eyes and stepped out of the shadows. "Can you rein in all that testosterone for one second?"
"I don't know how you got out of the city guard's prison, but this is my turf. Start something here, and I'll be the first one you have to go through."
The nobleman snapped his head toward me, his voice dropping to a furious hiss. "You little thief—do you have any idea what that bracelet you stole actually is? That's—"
He stopped dead. His throat worked violently, swallowing whatever words had been racing to the surface.
I raised an eyebrow. What, it's just jewelry. He lost it—his family's going to mock him. That's all.
"It's a family heirloom," he said at last, drawing a slow breath. "Give it back."
I nearly laughed. A pampered young lord, desperate not to look foolish in front of his family, spinning a story this transparent. Not that it mattered—men like him, slaves to their own pride, were always the easiest to play.
Half an hour later, we were in a private booth at the Blind Mouse tavern, three cups of cheap rye ale sitting on the table between us.
The nobleman's name was Adrian. He sat across from me now, face dark and expression sour, his mud-streaked hunting coat doing nothing to hide the arrogance bred into his bones.
Lan, sitting to my left, looked considerably more at ease. He was leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting between the two of us like a man watching an entertaining play.
"Don't think dragging me in here changes anything," Adrian said, fixing me with a cold stare. "Less talk. I want my property back."
"If I don't tell you where it is," I said, holding his gaze, "you'll never find it. Here's the situation—I need eight hundred gold coins to buy something back from an underground gambling den. Until I solve that problem, the bracelet is the only leverage I have."
"You're extorting me." His voice dropped to something like an arctic gale.
"I'm making a deal with you, Adrian." I leaned forward. "Touch me, and I promise that priceless moonstone gets smashed and thrown into the sewer by morning. Give me forty-eight hours. Once I have the money, you get everything back—untouched."
Adrian let out a short, humorless laugh. But he had no choice. He wasn't about to gamble with his so-called heirloom.
"That sounds like a fair trade." Lan broke his silence at last, lifting his cup of cheap ale with an unhurried ease, knuckles rapping idly against the rough wooden surface.
Adrian's brow furrowed in distaste. "What do you want, vagrant?"
"I'm saying that for the next forty-eight hours, we're all in the same boat." Lan leaned slightly forward, and the pressure of his presence seemed to spread across the narrow table. "Adrian needs to keep an eye on his heirloom. Little Mouse needs time to raise the money. And I—"
He turned his head and looked straight at me.
"—I saw it with my own eyes. This greedy little mouse, who snatches gold like it's her religion, took every coin she'd stolen and turned it into porridge for the refugee camp." His voice was low and slightly rough. "So my gut tells me—stick with you, and the next two days are going to be anything but dull."
My fingers went rigid.
"This city's full of sewer rats who'd slit a throat for a handful of coins." His expression turned serious. "But the only one I've ever seen pick a fight with a top-tier no—" He caught himself. "—young lord, for the sake of a pack of orphaned pups and wanderers she's got no blood ties to, is you."
"So?" I looked away from him. "You think I'm some kind of good person?"
"I think you're a very interesting bastard." He let out a quiet laugh and raised his cup. "In that case—how about a temporary alliance? Forty-eight hours. We watch each other's backs, and nobody gets to bail halfway through."
Adrian gave a cold snort. His expression was one of barely swallowed humiliation, but he knew this was the surest way to keep the bracelet in sight. Reluctantly, he lifted his cup.
I couldn't help rolling my eyes on the inside.
"Fine. Forty-eight hours as accomplices." I raised my wooden cup and knocked it against theirs.
Thunk. The cheap wooden cups collided with a dull, hollow sound.
Serena, what in the world have you gotten yourself into this time?
