The streets were quieter now as Adélard limped his way back, the pale, predawn light creeping over the rooftops. Blood soaked through the ragged tear in his shirt, dripping from his fingertips, but he ignored it. He kept his head down, shoulders hunched, taking the less-traveled paths where the lamplights barely reached. His pulse still raced from the encounter. He knew those men would be looking for him. They had tasted blood, and they wouldn't let this go.
But none of that mattered until he made it home.
By the time he reached their small, run-down apartment, the city was beginning to stir. Vendors were setting up stalls in the alleyways, and the muffled sounds of footsteps echoed down the streets. Adélard winced as he opened the door, the creak sounding far too loud in the stillness. He slipped inside, shutting it quietly behind him, and leaned back against the wood, exhaling shakily.
The place was dark, only the faint gray light filtering through the thin curtains. The familiar cramped space seemed to close in around him, oppressive and suffocating after everything he'd been through. His eyes darted to the corner where Leon lay curled up in their shared mattress, still fast asleep.
Good. He hadn't noticed Adélard was gone.
Adélard let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, his shoulders slumping with relief. Slowly, he peeled off his bloodied shirt, gritting his teeth as the fabric stuck to the wound on his arm. He tossed it into the corner, grabbing a worn towel from the shelf and pressing it against the cut.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, wincing as the pain flared. It wasn't deep—nothing life-threatening—but it would need stitches. And he didn't have the supplies for that.
He crept into the tiny kitchen, careful to keep his movements quiet. The shelves were almost empty, save for a few cans and a loaf of stale bread. They were running low on everything. After all his efforts, he had almost nothing to show for it.
He sighed, shaking his head. That didn't matter right now. He couldn't risk waking Leon up like this. With slow, deliberate movements, he grabbed a fresh rag and dipped it into the basin of water, washing the blood from his skin. It stung, the pain cutting through his exhaustion, but he welcomed it. It kept him sharp, kept him focused.
As he bandaged his arm as best he could, his gaze drifted back to Leon. His little brother's face was relaxed in sleep, a faint smile on his lips, and for a moment, Adélard felt something twist painfully in his chest. He wanted to keep that smile there, to shield Leon from everything dark and dangerous in the world. But the truth was, they were already caught up in it. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't keep Leon safe forever.
He finished tying the bandage, flexing his fingers experimentally. It would hold. For now. With a tired sigh, he turned back to the bedroom, stepping softly to the side of the mattress. Leon shifted, murmuring something in his sleep, and Adélard froze, holding his breath.
"Adélard…?" Leon's voice was soft, confused, barely more than a mumble.
Adélard knelt beside him, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "I'm here, Leon," he whispered. "Go back to sleep. It's still early."
Leon's eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused. "Where were you?" he murmured, blinking up at his brother. "You… you left…"
Guilt stabbed through Adélard, sharp and bitter. "I just had to take care of something," he said softly, smoothing the blanket over Leon's shoulders. "I'm back now."
Leon frowned, his small face scrunching up in confusion. "You're hurt…"
Adélard glanced down at his arm, cursing silently. He forced a smile, keeping his voice gentle. "Just a scratch. I'm fine."
Leon's eyes narrowed slightly, but he was too tired to argue. With a small, sleepy sigh, he burrowed deeper into the blanket, his eyelids drooping. "You shouldn't go out alone," he mumbled. "I want to come next time…"
"Go to sleep, Leon," Adélard murmured, his voice thick. "We'll talk in the morning."
Leon made a soft sound of protest, but his eyes were already closing. Within moments, his breathing evened out again, the tension melting from his small body.
Adélard stayed there for a long moment, watching him, a strange mixture of relief and regret swirling in his chest. He reached out, almost without thinking, and lightly touched Leon's hand. It was so small, so fragile. A reminder of everything Adélard was fighting for.
"I'll keep you safe," he whispered, the words barely more than a breath. "I promise."
He stood slowly, every muscle protesting, and moved to the window. The first rays of dawn were starting to paint the sky, casting long shadows across the city. Adélard leaned against the wall, staring out at the world beyond.
There was no going back now. He'd made enemies tonight, enemies who wouldn't rest until they had what they wanted—or until he was dead. He didn't know why the package was so important, or why Rourke had insisted it be delivered to that woman. All he knew was that he was caught in the middle of something much bigger than he'd realized.
And Leon was caught with him.
Adélard clenched his fists, jaw tightening. He had to be stronger. Smarter. He couldn't afford to make mistakes. Not when Leon's life was on the line.
He pushed away from the window, exhaustion pulling at his limbs. But sleep wouldn't come, not with the danger lurking just outside their door. Instead, he sat on the floor beside the mattress, leaning back against the wall, eyes fixed on the door. Keeping watch. Waiting.
If they came for him, he'd be ready.
—
The morning came slowly, the light growing brighter until it spilled into the small apartment, chasing away the lingering shadows. Adélard hadn't moved from his spot, his eyes burning with fatigue. But his resolve hadn't wavered.
When Leon finally stirred, blinking sleepily up at him, Adélard forced a smile. "Morning," he said quietly.
Leon yawned, rubbing his eyes. "Morning…" His gaze sharpened, darting to Adélard's arm. "You're still hurt."
Adélard shrugged, brushing it off. "It's nothing. I'll be fine."
Leon frowned, clearly unconvinced. But before he could argue, Adélard stood, stretching stiff muscles. "Come on. Let's get some breakfast."
The day had just begun, and already Adélard's mind was racing. He needed to figure out what to do next, how to protect Leon from the threats closing in around them. But for now, he'd focus on the small things. One step at a time.
Because if there was one thing he'd learned, it was that survival wasn't just about fighting. It was about enduring. And no matter what came, Adélard would endure.
For the sake of his family.