The obsidian-black limo was impossible to miss—silver trim polished to a mirror finish, rims gleaming like puddles of oil. Reginald already had the back door open.
"Where to, miss?" asked Reginald with his usual measured grace.
Hazelnut gave the address Krouri had texted and they were quickly on their way. As they headed deeper into a ramshackle stretch of The Stairs, the limo’s lavish comfort felt obscene. Even with the shoddy conditions of the street, the limo glided along, nary a bump to disturb her thoughts. Still, the plush orange–yellow interior, the soft hum of the engine, and the subtle click of a chilled mini-fridge opening did help.
"Master Sparks has instructed me to ensure I avail you of everything he has to offer to assist you in this endeavor."
A drink would help settle her nerves. She selected a sparkling cider with her thanks. She was used to extracting valuables, not people. Still, the concept was the same. Get in. Get out. Do not be seen.
When the limo rolled to a stop, Hazelnut popped the roof hatch and slipped out, vanishing onto a rain-slick rooftop like a shadow peeling off the ground.
The Stairs sprawled below—rows of condensed living spaces converted from abandoned warehouses packed shoulder to shoulder. She ran along the slick rooftops, traversing like a skilled parkour traceur, then brought her camera to her eye to scan for access.
Rear alley: two guards, crowbar and knife. Front entrance: worse. Four men—two thugs, one of Pazienza’s unmistakable grunts…and Grant Borden, towering over a beaten old hare.
"I ain't gonna ask yous again, tough guy. Open. It. Up."
"I-I can't do that, sir," the hare stammered, raising a shaky hand in defense. "N-Not without p-permission…"
Grant hauled him upright by his collar. "Listen, we know who's renting the place and you gotta understand, we gots no problem letting ourselves in. Right now? I'm asking nicely."
Hazelnut’s pulse spiked. She had to move fast. A cracked second-story window caught her eye. She vaulted off the roof and hit the narrow ledge without a sound. A thin pry bar into the seam and—crack—window open.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Inside: a graffiti-tagged hallway, walls spray-painted with lotus symbols and messages of admiration for a ‘CL’. She looked from door to door until she found the right one. Reinforced. One quiet knock and she whispered the provided code phrase.
"Seeds and Berries."
The door creaked open as far as the chain lock would allow. A fearful eye appeared in the opening. "Hullo? Are you here to get me out?" squeaked a tiny, scared voice.
"Hi! Yes! My name is Hazelnut. Krouri sent me. We have to go, okay? Now." The door opened just enough to see a small vole child, possibly 11 or 12 years old, wearing a newsie cap and a newer looking sweatshirt over an older looking vest with slacks. The floor of the apartment was a mess of food wrappers and takeout containers.
"I'm Iggy. I heard voices outside and saw Mr. Bronson getting pushed around. I-I got scared."
Keys rattled downstairs. Grant was done asking nicely.
"You did the right thing," Hazelnut said, ushering him into the hall and pulling the door shut behind them. "Stay close."
The front door burst open. Stomping, muttering. Getting closer.
Hazelnut led Iggy to the window and crawled out. "We gotta go up. Climb on my back." The boy froze. Footsteps pounded up the stairs. "Hey—look at me." She took his hand in hers. "You can do this. I’ve got you."
He swallowed, nodded, and clambered onto her back. She turned, gripped the brickwork, and climbed—the boy’s arms tight around her neck—as Grant’s voice boomed from the hallway below.
They reached the roof just as the upstairs door was kicked in.
Once steady on the roof, she took off at a sprint, counting the steps under her breath. Compensate for the extra weight. Have a sure foothold.
Three… two… one—
She leapt the gap, tail flicking to adjust. Hard landing, but solid. A furious roar echoed behind her as Pazienza’s men found the empty safehouse.
Down on street level, Reginald stood patiently beside the limo, rubbing his arms against the chill. Hazelnut anchored a rope to a rooftop pipe and rappelled down with Iggy still clinging to her. She dropped the last few feet, landing on the car roof with a soft thud. The corgi nearly jumped out of his skin.
"I got him. Let's go," Hazelnut said as she lowered Iggy through the open hatch. "Quickly Reggie, but not too fast. Don't want to draw any attention."
Reginald slid in and started the engine.
"Of course, ma’am," he said evenly as the limo executed the calmest U-turn in the history of crime scenes. "A most casual departure from the Stairs."
