The chase was exhilarating in its own way—a test of my patience and her desperation. She darted between clusters of people, her movements sharp and deliberate, clearly practiced. This wasn't her first time running. That much was obvious. But it also wasn't mine.
I kept my pace steady, deliberate, like a predator stalking prey. No need to sprint or panic. She had the speed, but I had the advantage of endurance. I could predict- with foresight, her next moves before she even made them. A sharp turn here, a sudden duck under a low-hanging banner there—it was almost as if she were following a script I'd read a hundred times.
Finally, she made her mistake. As she slipped into a side alley, her escape route abruptly narrowed into a dead end—a narrow corridor of weathered stone walls and a single, barred window above. I slowed my pace as I approached, letting her hear my footsteps on the cobblestones.
