Chapter 53: Alley Cat
"Kylo."
The name came out of Misha’s mouth before she could stop it.
He stepped properly into view.
"You look awful," he said, looking her up and down with slow disrespect.
Misha’s brows twitched. He really had to start with that.
"You always sound like your personality got dragged through mud and decided to stay there," she muttered.
His smirk widened. "And you still look like the mud won."
She clenched her fists tightly to keep the immediate, specific urge to hit him with a rock under control.
Kylo folded his arms and leaned his shoulder against the wall again. "So, let me guess." His gaze slid over the blood on her clothes, the new cloak on her shoulders, and the exhaustion she had failed to hide. "You all failed Floor 8."
Misha almost told him they had actually made it to Floor 10, only for his ex-girlfriend to rip the group apart like she had been waiting for it from the start.
"What do you want, Kylo?" She spat out instead while she kept her distance from him.
He had never had a good history with Skyreach, and from the first time they met, he had left a terrible impression on her. He had a smug face, a sharper tongue, and the sort of pride that made a person want to trip him on principle.
"At first?" He tilted his head, shamelessly considering it. "Nothing. Then I saw you, decided you looked miserable, and thought I’d enjoy the conversation."
Then his gaze shifted past her for a split second but Misha caught it anyway.
And then, she heard it. "He’s over here!"
The shout cracked through the street. Another voice followed right after. "Get her too!"
Misha turned sharply and saw several men rushed into view from the far end of the lane, wearing dark uniforms, armed and fast.
Kylo clicked his tongue, then he ran. Not toward the men but the other way.
"Hold them off for me, will ya?" He called over his shoulder without even looking back.
The Blackthorn men saw her hesitate and pointed at once. "There! Don’t let either of them get away!"
Either of them?
Misha’s mouth fell open. "I’m not with him!"
No one seemed to care about it though. Noticing that, she ran too.
Her boots pounded against the stone as she tore down the alley after Kylo. He moved fast, faster than she expected, his mantle snapping behind him as he cut around a corner, knocked over a basket, and vaulted across a narrow gutter like this sort of disaster had happened to him before.
Misha followed with considerably less grace.
A crate clipped her hip, and swore under her breath before shoving off the wall and forcing herself onward.
"You did this on purpose!" She yelled.
Kylo glanced back while still running and somehow, he still found time to smirk. "You give me too much credit."
"There were literally people hunting you!"
"And now, they’re hunting you too. Congratulations, we’ve grown closer."
"I would rather die!" She growled.
"That can be arranged if you slow down."
Misha could only bare her teeth and hoped to punch him even once.
They tore through another street, lantern light flashed over stone and shadow. Somewhere behind them, Blackthorn men shouted to one another, boots hammering after them.
"Cut them off!"
"Left side!"
"Don’t lose them!"
Kylo ducked beneath a low hanging line and kept moving.
Misha nearly got smacked in the face by it. She yanked it away and hissed, "I hate you!"
"You have to get in line for that," he retorted.
That did it. Misha lunged forward with a burst of offended energy and grabbed the fur at the back of his mantle with both hands, then she yanked hard.
Kylo made a very undignified sound. His whole upper body jerked backward. One foot slipped, then the other. He windmilled once, lost all balance, and stumbled into the side of a barrel stack.
"Are you insane?!" He snapped, twisting toward her.
"You were born annoying!" Misha shot back, still gripping the fur and dragging him another step off balance.
A barrel toppled, then another. They crashed into the alley behind him in a burst of noise loud enough to make them both freeze for half a beat.
From a distance came the shout, "They went this way!"
Kylo slowly looked at the fallen barrels then at Misha. "Brilliant," he said flatly.
"You’re welcome!" She huffed.
"You have the tactical instincts of an angry cat."
"And you run like a chased dog!"
For a moment, they just glared at each other. Then Blackthorn voices grew louder.
Kylo clicked his tongue once more and shoved her hand off his mantle. "Move."
He broke right, Misha broke left, then immediately doubled back when she heard more footsteps ahead.
Kylo, already halfway around the next turn, looked over his shoulder just in time to see her reverse course. "Wrong way, idiot!"
"There are people there!"
"There are people everywhere!"
Misha ran harder after him.
Kylo swore, changed direction again, and they both shot into the same narrow passage shoulder to shoulder. He tried to edge ahead, Misha elbowed him. He glared, and she glared back harder.
It felt less like escaping pursues and more like two deeply hostile alley cats accidentally choosing the same fence.
They burst out into a split in the road.
Kylo looked right, then Misha looked left and there she saw it. A hanging laundry line stretched low across the turn just near him.
Her eyes narrowed. An idea hit. A terrible, beautiful idea.
Without warning, she grabbed the back of his fur mantle again and yanked with all her strength.
"Fucking bitch–!" Kylo stumbled forward with a curse and crashed chest first into the hanging cloth. It wrapped around his face and shoulders in a humiliating tangle.
Misha almost cried from joy.
"What is wrong with you?!" His muffled voice snapped from inside someone’s laundry.
"Many things!" She shouted back.
Then she spun on her heel, darted down the opposite lane and heard the wonderfully chaotic sounds of Kylo fighting both fabric and his own temper behind her.
Blackthorn voices split at once.
"He went that way!"
"No, the girl–!"
"After both!"
Misha did not stay to admire the confusion. She ran as hard as she could. The new cloak snapped behind her, her pulse hammered. The city blurred around her in streaks of lantern light and stone walls.
Then, when she reached the next turn and risked one glance back, she caught sight of Kylo finally untangling himself and shoving one furious Blackthorn man aside.
Their eyes met across the distance.
Misha lifted one hand and waved a bright, sweet, and absolutely infuriating little wave of her middle finger.
Kylo looked like he might actually explode.
She smirked before she turned and vanished into the night before he and Blackthorn could catch her again.
===
Misha kept her hood raised low and took several unnecessary turns through side streets, then doubled back once through a narrow lane just to make sure no one had followed her.
Only when she was satisfied that neither Blackthorn nor Kylo had appeared behind her did she let herself breathe properly.
That bastard. That infuriating, smug, fur-wearing bastard. Even while running for his life, he still found time to provoke her.
A small, traitorous snort escaped her. Then she shook her head and pulled the hood lower.
She stopped at a few shops that were still open and bought the things she needed with as little conversation as possible.
By the time she reached the inn she had first stayed at back then, the city had grown quieter.
After a warm bath, she dried herself slowly, changed into the simple pajamas she had bought, and finally let herself collapse onto the bed.
It was a long night, longer than it had any right to be.
She pulled her brother’s cloak around her shoulders again and curled on her side beneath it. The fabric settled over her with the same faint warmth, not enough to feel alive, only enough to keep her reminded that her brothers were waiting for her.
That thought did not erase the ache in her chest. It did not silence grief either. Still, it kept her from sinking.
Misha closed her eyes as sleep finally began to drag at her.
Knock.
Misha’s eyes opened at once.
Someone was at her door.
「Trait in Effect: Sleep Deprivation Resistance 」
「Fatigue penalties reduced. 」
「 Mental clarity maintained. 」
She stared at the dark ceiling for one second, blanket half-fallen from her shoulder, then let out a long, deeply offended breath.
"Seriously," she muttered, her voice rough with sleep. "Can’t people let me suffer in peace?"
Another knock came. It wasn’t loud or impatient. That somehow made it worse.
Misha slowly pushed herself upright, her hair a complete mess and her face still carrying the stubborn heaviness of interrupted sleep.
The room stayed quiet except for the faint creak of old wood and the soft rustle of the cloak sliding from her lap.
Her body still ached but it was not enough to stop her. It was enough to make her annoyed at absolutely everything.
She reached under her pillow and pulled out the dagger she had tucked there before falling asleep. Her fingers closed around the hilt at once.
If whoever stood outside that door had bad intentions, they were going to have a very unpleasant surprise.
Misha stood and padded toward the doorway, silent despite the exhaustion still clinging to her bones.
She stopped just short of the door. For a moment, she said nothing and only listened. There were no shifting footsteps, no whispering, and no obvious threat. That, unfortunately, did not make her feel better.
"Who is it?" She asked flatly, her grip on the dagger tightened.
Then came a familiar voice from the other side of the door.
"Misha."
She froze. Her expression soured instantly.
Of course... of course it was him.