Arvey lay flat on his back, eyes open, counting the pauses between footsteps outside. He wasn’t sleeping. His wrists throbbed where the iron had cut into them earlier, his skin swollen and raw.

  Moonlight filtered through warped wooden boards in thin, uneven stripes, illuminating drifting dust and the occasional rat that clearly felt more ownership of the place than they did. Pain had become background noise by now. Like breathing.. or Bordo complaining.

  Beside him, Bordo shifted and let out a low grunt. The movement pulled a wet sound from his shoulder that Arvey tried very hard to ignore. Burned flesh pulled when he breathed, heat still trapped beneath the skin.

  “Still alive,” Bordo muttered, as if taking stock of inventory. “That’s something.”

  Arvey pushed himself upright, keeping his shoulders quiet. His joints protested the motion. “Not enough,” Arvey replied in a flat voice.

  Bordo glanced at him. “You always this cheerful when you wake up?” Bordo asked, leaning back against the wall, his tusks catching a sliver of moonlight. “We only rested long enough for the first wave to calm down.”

  Arvey didn't answer. He grabbed a scrap of cloth that felt stiff with old oil. He pressed it against Bordo’s shoulder, keeping pressure steady.

  The cloth darkened fast, and the smell turned sharp. Bordo sucked air through his teeth, and his neck tightened. “Careful,” he growled in a tight voice. “That stings.”

  “Good,” Arvey replied, keeping his tone even. “Means it’s still yours.” He pressed harder until Bordo took over, watching Bordo’s fingers clamp down. “Hold it,” Arvey added quietly, keeping his eyes on the door.

  Outside, voices drifted past the shed. Guards arguing. Boots scraping stone in uneven rhythm, and the sound moved closer.

  Somewhere in the distance, the baying of tracking beasts echoed between buildings. Arvey froze with his hand still near Bordo’s shoulder. He tracked distance by volume, then by the wet snort between two barks.

  “Press against it,” Arvey whispered, keeping his eyes on the boards. “Harder. Cover the smell.” Bordo complied, jaw grinding as he pushed the cloth down.

  Arvey listened again and heard the cadence change. Steps were closer now, and metal clinked when men shifted their weight. The shed felt smaller when the sound stacked near the door.

  Arvey moved before the noise could settle near them. He scanned the shed in strips, floor to wall, then rafters. Rotting nets hung from hooks and stank of old fish slime.

  He shoved a crate aside and found cold steel under a plank. His fingers closed around a chipped knife. He tested the balance with a small wrist turn. "Functional..," he said, sliding the knife into his belt.

  He found thin rope in a coil and checked it for rot, pulling one strand until it tightened. The rope was stiff, but it would hold for a short pull. He grabbed a rusted hook and wiped it on his sleeve, keeping it quiet. He pulled sailcloth free from damp fabric. Tar stiffened it into a heavy roll, and the smell stuck in his nose. He rolled it tighter and stuffed it under his belt.

  “Dock trash,” Bordo murmured, noticing the pile grow. He tried to sound amused, but pain kept leaking into his voice. “Better than nothing.”

  Bordo exhaled carefully and kept pressure on his shoulder. “If we stay here,” Bordo said in a low voice, “it is only a matter of time until they find us.”

  “It’s a wonder they haven’t already,” Arvey replied, keeping his eyes on the door. He shifted the knife to check the edge again, careful not to cut deeper than a scratch. A thin line opened on his thumb, and he wiped it on his pants.

  Bordo snorted. “Too much chaos,” Bordo said in a rough voice. “Too many prisoners broke loose.” He swallowed and leaned his head back. “Half the guards are hurt. Some are dead. The rest are more afraid of their overseers than of us."

  Arvey nodded once. “Which means this place stops being invisible soon,” Arvey said, keeping his voice low.

  He pulled a torn hood over his head. The cloth smelled of sweat and smoke, and it scratched his ears. “Better than being recognized,” Arvey muttered, checking how the shadow covered his face.

  Bordo wrapped the coarse blanket around his torso. The fabric smelled of wet rope, hiding the burn as best as he could. He adjusted it until most of the shoulder disappeared.

  Together, they looked less like escaped property and more like dock strays who had lost their shift.

  “We can’t stay,” Arvey said quietly. He watched the doorway and waited for the next sound.

  As if summoned by that exact thought, a deep growl rolled through the shed. Another growl followed right after, closer and more focused. Bordo’s head snapped up.

  “Beasts,” Bordo said in a sharp voice. He shifted his feet under him and braced, keeping weight off the burned side. Arvey heard claws carve into wood and a wet sniff at the door crack.

  “They’re on us,” Arvey said, voice flat. “Now.” He pointed toward the back wall and tapped it once.

  Bordo understood without hesitation. He drove his weight into the back timber with his good shoulder. Rotting boards buckled and snapped, and cold night air hit Arvey’s face.

  The air carried salt, smoke, and burning oil from the dock lanes. Lantern light flared somewhere to the right, and a guard shouted an alert. Claws tore through the front boards at the same moment. Wood splintered and flew inward. A tracker shoved its head through the gap, muzzle slick, eyes catching lantern glow. Arvey and Bordo were already out.

  They ran into an alley that stank of brine and spilled oil. Damp stone shifted underfoot, and Bordo’s stride stayed jagged because the shoulder ruined his balance. His breath hitched every few steps, and the sound made Arvey want to slow.

  Arvey refused that urge and read corners instead. He tracked the shadow line under windows and watched for hanging nets.

  Behind them, the beasts burst into the alley. Lean bodies. Too many joints. Muzzles slick with saliva. Eyes reflecting lantern light like embers.

  Guards joined the chase seconds later. Arvey listened to their spacing and heard the guards behind the beasts by a short distance.

  Arvey adjusted his pace to match Bordo’s limits, because splitting meant certain death. As he kept his eyes forward, searching for a break, he spotted another escaped slave pressed into a wall. The man tried to shrink into stone, his shoulders shaking. His eyes met Arvey’s eyes.

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  Arvey made the decision in one breath. “Sorry,” Arvey muttered in a flat voice, keeping his face blank. He veered toward the man.

  The man panicked and bolted. His feet slapped stone in loud uneven steps, and that noise pulled the trackers’ attention. Their heads snapped toward the new movement.

  As Arvey passed, the man’s fear flipped into rage. The man lunged with both hands, trying to grab cloth and slow Arvey down. Arvey met him without stopping.

  One tight strike hit the throat. The man gagged and bent forward, and Arvey drove a knee into the hip. The man folded onto grit, alive but unable to stand.

  Arvey shoved the writhing body into the center of the alley. Beasts snapped toward the movement and the fresh smell. The pursuit fractured when the beasts chose the new target.

  Guards shouted in frustration when they lost the clean line. Bordo barked out a disbelieving laugh while he ran. “MADMAN!” Bordo shouted in a booming voice.

  “Keep moving,” Arvey replied without looking back.

  Boots thundered behind them and widened across the alley. Orders cut through the noise in sharp clipped bursts. One of the beasts howled when it found blood, then the howls turned into feeding sounds.

  The street narrowed where buildings leaned together. Arvey saw a broken stair with a gap beneath it, then grabbed Bordo’s sleeve. He pulled Bordo toward the gap and dropped first.

  They slid under the stair and pressed into damp dirt. The space smelled of rat droppings and wet wood. Arvey held his breath and listened to the hunt pass.

  Claws scraped wood above them. A beast’s snout pushed near the gap, then withdrew when the scent line broke. Guards ran past, breathing loud, armor clanking.

  One guard slipped and cursed, then kept running. Arvey counted breaths. Five. Ten. Twenty.

  Bordo held his weight off the burned shoulder, trembling in small shifts. The noise moved past and thinned. Normal night sounds crept back in, but Arvey waited. Only when he was sure, did they move.

  He tapped Bordo’s arm once. Bordo nodded without speaking, then crawled out first. They slid free and ran again.

  “This way,” Arvey said quietly, keeping his voice low. He angled them toward the docking ships.

  A lone guard appeared ahead under a street lamp. His helmet sat crooked, and a lantern hung loose from his hand. He limped and breathed through pain.

  His arm was wrapped in cloth that soaked through with blood. His eyes were dull from fatigue, and his posture sagged. Arvey raised two fingers toward Bordo, then lowered one. Then the other. They struck together. Arvey pulled the guard backward into shadow and clamped a hand over his mouth. The guard tried to scream, but only air leaked around Arvey’s palm.

  Bordo’s arm locked around the guard’s throat. He tightened his grip and turned his hips, ending the struggle fast. The guard sagged, then went still.

  Arvey eased the body down and searched quick. He took a thin serrated blade, then took a coin pouch that felt light. He took a thick glass flask and tucked it away.

  “Quiet enough,” Bordo murmured in a low voice. He wiped sweat from his brow, then tightened the blanket. “Had to be,” Arvey replied, keeping his eyes on the dock line.

  They merged with confusion near a crossroads. Dockhands argued over a shattered crate, and a merchant yelled at a guard who yelled back louder. Nobody looked twice at two more exhausted figures moving with purpose.

  Near the water, the air changed. Salt replaced smoke, and rope creaked on posts. Ships rocked against moorings with soft thuds that matched the tide.

  Panic still lived here, but it stayed contained. It showed in tight shoulders and quick glances. Men spoke in low voices, then stopped when strangers passed.

  They slowed beneath a leaning warehouse and listened. Dripping water hit a barrel rim in slow rhythm. A torch flickered near a corner and threw shifting shadows across planks.

  Bordo wiped sweat from his brow. “We’re close,” he said in a strained voice, keeping his breathing shallow. Arvey nodded once.

  “Cover your wound better,” Arvey said calmly, keeping his eyes on lantern patterns. Bordo growled and tugged the blanket back into place. The fabric stuck to burned skin and peeled with a wet sound.

  “Hard to hide when half your back’s cooked,” Bordo muttered. “Then stop standing where people can see you,” Arvey replied.

  Bordo snorted. “You always this friendly when someone’s bleeding?” Bordo asked in a raspy voice. Arvey did not answer, because he was reading the pier.

  From here on, every step depended on reading people. Arvey watched posture, spacing, and hands resting near hidden weapons. He dismissed ships one by one without speaking.

  Some crews were too alert, and city men watched their planks. Other ships had guards with polished steel and steady stares. Arvey kept moving until he saw what he needed.

  A broader hull sat low in the water. Fewer lanterns burned, and shutters covered most light. Movement on deck looked quiet and efficient.

  No shouting came from that ship, and orders stayed short. Men carried crates with practiced pace. “That one,” Arvey murmured, keeping his voice low.

  They did not approach directly. Arvey waited for a small wave of bodies moving toward the plank, then blended into the trickle. Laborers gathered with heads down and hands ready.

  Near the plank stood men who were not guards. Their boots were clean, and their eyes were calm. One held a ledger and a short pencil.

  Another watched hands, and a third watched the crowd with a quiet stare. “Gatekeepers,” Bordo said softly, voice carrying disgust.

  A man protested entry in front of them. A gatekeeper grabbed him and threw him aside. The man hit planks hard, and blood dotted the wood.

  No one reacted, because reaction drew attention. The crowd flowed around the body. Bordo exhaled slowly.

  “Guess that answers how polite we need to be,” Bordo said. “Polite isn’t the word,” Arvey replied. “Invisible.”

  “If they turn us back ...,” Bordo said in a low voice. “Then we don’t argue,” Arvey said. “We disappear before anyone remembers our faces.”

  They reached the ledger man. He looked them over without a smile, eyes lingering on Bordo’s size. His gaze dropped to the blanket and tracked Bordo’s stiffness.

  “Work?” the ledger man asked, voice flat. “Yes,” Arvey replied, tone controlled.

  “Injured,” the man noted, eyes on Bordo. “Only if you need me to be,” Bordo replied in a rough voice, baring tusks.

  The ledger man hesitated, and a new voice cut through the line. “Problem?” the newcomer asked.

  A man stepped forward in a dark red coat. He wore no visible armor, and he carried no obvious weapon. The crowd shifted to make space.

  “Shoulder burn,” the ledger man replied. The newcomer studied them with calm eyes, smelling of oil and old cloth. His gaze lingered on Arvey’s wrists.

  “Slaves,” he said casually. Bordo’s muscles tightened under the blanket. Arvey felt it too—the instinct to move, to strike.

  “Relax,” the man continued in a bored voice. “You smell like shit. You walk like men who’ve been chased.” He leaned closer by a step.

  Arvey held his gaze. “And that’s a problem?” he asked.

  “Where are you trying to go?” the man asked. “Do you even know where this ship sails?” His tone carried control.

  “Anywhere but here,” Arvey replied. “We can leave at the first stop.”

  For a moment, the man studied him. Then he waved a hand, dismissive. “Slaver scum,” he said in a cold voice. “They sell bodies and call it order.”

  A fraction of tension eased in Bordo’s posture. “I have no patience for them,” Hamdeni continued. “Can you lift?”

  Bordo squared his stance and set his feet, hissing once through pain. “Give me something heavy,” Bordo said.

  A crate was pushed forward by a dockhand. Bordo gripped it one-armed and lifted, jaw tightening as pain hit. The crate moved anyway.

  He held it steady for a beat, then set it down. The man nodded once. “Names?” he asked.

  “Bordo,” Bordo replied without hesitation. He jerked his chin toward Arvey. “And that’s Arvey.”

  “Hamdeni,” he said. “Captain of this ship.” Bordo blinked.

  “Captain?” Bordo asked. Hamdeni’s mouth tightened into a thin smile.

  “My father owns her,” Hamdeni replied. “The Bloody Baron.” He watched their reaction. "But I keep her moving." There it was. Rumor given shape.

  Bordo’s eyes widened for a breath, and Arvey kept his face still. “You work, you stay,” Hamdeni said in a hard voice. “You slow us down, you’re gone. Over the side.”

  “Understood,” Arvey replied. Hamdeni gestured toward the plank.

  “Board,” he ordered.

  They stepped onto the ship. The plank groaned, and tar stuck to Arvey’s boots.

  Crew closed in and barked short orders. “Ropes.” “Crates there.” “Move.” Lanterns were shuttered.

  Lines were cast off, and the pier drifted away. Bordo glanced back once and leaned closer to Arvey.

  “Seems like the rumors about the Bloody Baron were wrong, huh?” Bordo asked in a low voice.

  Arvey didn't answer. He watched the shoreline shrink into darkness. He listened to the ship’s wood creak under new tension. He kept his eyes on crew hands and where they rested, as the docks vanished behind them.