Adélard stood at the edge of the alleyway, shoulders tense, sweat beading on his brow despite the cool night air. The two men in front of him moved slowly, like predators sizing up their prey. Against one man, Adélard would have a chance—he'd fought plenty of bruisers before, knew how to throw a punch and slip away from danger. But knives were different. Knives were final. One wrong move, one mistake, and you'd be bleeding out in the dirt before you could even realize what happened.
And there were two of them.
He eyed the first man—the one with the knife. He was smaller than Adélard but moved with a casual confidence, twirling the blade between his fingers like a toy. The second man was broader, built like a bull, his fists clenched and ready. He'd probably rush Adélard the moment the knife came at him. It was a trap, a deadly one.
But Adélard had been in worse.
The second man grinned, his teeth flashing in the moonlight. "What's wrong, kid? Scared?" he taunted. "Should've handed over the package when you had the chance."
Adélard took a slow, steady breath, forcing his muscles to relax. Panic wouldn't help him now. His gaze darted around the narrow alley. The walls were high, the ground littered with refuse. No easy exits. He needed to think fast, keep them off balance.
"I already delivered the package," he said, voice low and controlled. "You're too late."
The man with the knife sneered, eyes narrowing. "Bullshit. We saw you sneaking around. We'll just have to cut the truth out of you."
He lunged, the blade flashing toward Adélard's chest. Instinct kicked in. Adélard twisted, the knife grazing his shirt as he pivoted to the side. He felt the cold sting of metal just missing his skin, too close. The second man charged in, swinging a meaty fist toward Adélard's face.
Adélard ducked, the punch whistling past his ear, and lashed out with a kick to the man's knee. He staggered, growling in pain, but didn't go down. Before Adélard could press the advantage, the man with the knife was on him again, slashing in a vicious arc. Adélard barely managed to dance out of range, his pulse pounding in his ears.
The knife cut through the air, precise and deadly. He was being backed into a corner. Adélard knew he couldn't keep dodging forever; sooner or later, they'd catch him. He had to change the rhythm, turn their strength against them.
He feinted left, drawing the knife wielder forward, then spun on his heel and threw himself at the second man. He slammed his shoulder into the brute's midsection, knocking him off balance. The man stumbled, cursing, and Adélard didn't waste a second. He drove his elbow into the man's ribs, a quick, brutal strike that left him gasping.
But it wasn't enough.
The man with the knife roared and came at him from behind, blade aimed at Adélard's back. Desperation surged through him. He ducked low, grabbing a piece of broken wood from the ground and swinging it wildly. It wasn't a weapon, just a scrap of refuse, but it was enough to force the man to step back, giving Adélard a precious second to breathe.
"You little rat," the man spat, circling him. The second one had recovered, his face twisted with rage. "We're gonna gut you for this."
Adélard's chest heaved, his grip tightening on the makeshift club. He could see it in their eyes—they weren't just going to hurt him. They were going to kill him. And if they did, Leon would be alone. He couldn't let that happen.
"Come on, then," he growled, raising the club. "Let's see what you've got."
They rushed him together, and the alley exploded into chaos.
The knife flashed, and Adélard swung the wood hard, meeting the blade with a sharp crack. Pain shot up his arm as the wood splintered, but he didn't stop. He kicked out, catching the knife wielder in the knee, then whirled to face the second man. The brute grabbed for him, but Adélard twisted free, ramming his elbow into the man's throat. He gasped, staggering back, and Adélard saw his chance.
He threw himself at the man with the knife, grappling with him. The blade slashed wildly, cutting a shallow line across Adélard's arm, but he ignored the pain. He wrenched the man's wrist, twisting it sharply, and the knife clattered to the ground.
But there was no time to celebrate. The second man was on him in an instant, wrapping his massive arms around Adélard's chest. He felt his ribs compress, the air forced from his lungs as the brute squeezed, lifting him off the ground.
"Got you now!" the man snarled, his breath hot against Adélard's ear.
Adélard thrashed, kicking out wildly. His vision blurred, stars dancing at the edges as the pressure tightened. He clawed at the man's arms, trying to pry himself free, but the brute's grip was iron. Panic flared, dark and suffocating.
Not like this. He couldn't die like this.
With a final, desperate effort, Adélard swung his head back, smashing it into the man's face. Pain exploded in his skull, but the man grunted, his grip loosening just enough. Adélard twisted, slipping free, and dropped to the ground, gasping for breath.
He was on his feet in an instant, grabbing the knife from the dirt. The two men were still reeling, blood trickling from the brute's nose. Adélard leveled the blade at them, his chest heaving, eyes blazing.
"Back off," he snarled.
For a moment, no one moved. The men stared at him, rage and disbelief warring in their eyes. Then the brute spat, wiping the blood from his face.
"This isn't over, boy," he growled. "We'll be seeing you again."
Adélard didn't wait to see if they meant it. He turned and ran, feet pounding against the cobblestones as he fled the alley. He ran until his lungs burned, until the city blurred around him, until the sounds of pursuit faded into silence.
Only then did he slow, collapsing against a wall in a darkened side street. He clutched his bleeding arm, wincing at the pain. The adrenaline was fading, leaving him shaky and exhausted. But he was alive. He'd survived.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stand. There was no time to rest. He had to get home, had to make sure Leon was safe. Because if those men were still after him, it wouldn't end here.
Stumbling slightly, Adélard pushed himself away from the wall and started walking. The night felt colder now, the shadows deeper. But he'd faced worse and come out alive.
As long as he was breathing, he wouldn't stop fighting.