The walk back to their small, ramshackle home was quiet, both brothers weighed down by the events of the day. As they passed the dimly lit streets and shuttered stalls, Leon stayed close to Adélard, clutching the wrapped bundle of bread and cheese they'd been given at the market. The excitement of the brief football match had worn off, leaving him drained and contemplative.
When they finally reached their home—a cramped, one-room space tucked behind a row of abandoned buildings—the tension eased ever so slightly. Adélard turned the key, the door creaking open. The faint light from their single lantern barely illuminated the sparse interior: a rickety table, two worn-out cots, and a single, cracked window that overlooked the alley. It wasn't much, but it was theirs.
"Sit down," Adélard murmured softly, nudging Leon toward the table. He unwrapped the food and divided it between them, pushing a portion toward his younger brother. "Eat up. We need to keep our strength."
Leon nodded silently, biting into the bread. It was rough and stale, but he barely seemed to notice. He chewed thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on Adélard's face. "You're not eating?"
"I will," Adélard replied. "Just… making sure you're taken care of first."
Leon frowned but didn't argue. He finished his share quickly, swallowing the last bite with a small sigh. For a moment, they just sat there, the quiet stretching out between them. Then, Leon broke the silence.
"Do you think Rourke will ever let us see her?"
Adélard's jaw tightened. He looked away, staring at the cracked wall as if searching for an answer that wouldn't come. "I don't know," he said finally, his voice low. "But I promise, I won't stop until we do. No matter what it takes."
Leon's eyes flickered with a mix of hope and fear. He wanted to believe his brother, but the weight of broken promises and cruel realities pressed down on him. Still, he forced a small smile. "I know. You're always looking out for me."
Adélard nodded, reaching across the table to squeeze Leon's hand. "And I always will. Now, get some rest. We have a long day tomorrow."
Reluctantly, Leon slid off his chair and made his way to his cot. He curled up, pulling the thin blanket around himself, and closed his eyes. Adélard watched him for a few moments, waiting until his breathing evened out, slow and steady.
Only then did Adélard stand and clear the table quietly. He moved carefully, making sure not to wake his brother as he slipped the package—the one Rourke had given him—out from its hiding place beneath the floorboards. It was still there, wrapped tightly in brown paper, its contents a mystery.
Adélard's gaze lingered on Leon's sleeping form, his expression torn. He knew what he had to do, but it didn't make it any easier. With a soft sigh, he stood and pulled on his coat. He crept to the door, glancing back one last time before slipping out into the night.
The streets were dark and empty, shadows pooling in every corner. A chill wind cut through the alleyways, rustling the few loose papers and casting eerie whispers through the silence. Adélard kept his head down, his steps quick and sure. He knew where he was going.
The instructions Rourke had given him were vague—a street name, a brief description of a woman, and a warning to be discreet. This was a separate job from what Leon knew about, something Rourke had made clear was to be handled alone. So, despite the exhaustion pulling at him, Adélard pressed on, navigating the twisting backstreets with the ease of someone who'd learned to move unseen.
As he made his way toward the meeting spot, a sense of unease settled over him. Something didn't feel right. The city at night was always dangerous, but this… this was different. He turned a corner, slipping through a narrow passage between two buildings, and froze.
Three figures stepped out of the shadows, blocking his path. They were dressed in dark, hooded coats, their faces obscured. One of them, taller and broader than the others, took a step forward, a glint of steel visible at his hip.
"Out late, aren't you?" the man drawled, his voice low and mocking. "What's in the package, boy?"
Adélard's heart leapt into his throat, but he forced himself to stay calm. He took a step back, his eyes darting around for an escape route. "Nothing that concerns you," he said quietly.
"See, that's where you're wrong." The man smiled, a flash of teeth in the darkness. "Rourke's got a lot of people interested in his little deliveries. Now, why don't you be a good lad and hand it over?"
Adélard's pulse raced. He couldn't fight them—not all three. He glanced down the alley, measuring the distance, calculating. He might be able to outrun them, but if they caught him—
"Don't make this difficult," the man growled, taking another step closer. "We don't want to hurt you. But we will."
Adélard's grip tightened on the package. He could feel the weight of it, the promise of what it meant. If he lost this, if he failed—
"Last chance, boy," the man warned. "Give it up."
But Adélard didn't move. He stood his ground, staring up at the man with defiance burning in his eyes.
"Come and take it, then," he said softly.
And with a snarl, they lunged.
The night erupted into chaos as Adélard spun on his heel, his feet pounding against the cobblestones as he took off down the alley. Shouts rang out behind him, the sound of footsteps pounding after him. He pushed himself harder, faster, heart hammering wildly.
But even as he ran, the dark, winding streets seemed to close in around him, the shadows whispering of danger yet to come.
And for the first time in a long while, Adélard wasn't sure if he could make it out alone.