24- A game of shadows

Victoria kept her head down as she weaved through the dimly lit alleys of the undercity, her boots barely making a sound on the damp pavement. The air was thick with the stench of oil, rust, and desperation—a stark contrast to the pristine world above. She pulled her hood lower, ensuring the shadows concealed her face. If anyone recognized her here, it could mean trouble.

She took a sharp turn into a narrow passage between two rundown buildings, her mind focused on the meeting ahead—until she collided headfirst into someone.

Victoria stumbled back, her hand instinctively reaching for the knife hidden beneath her cloak. The other figure reacted just as quickly, grabbing her wrist before she could draw the blade. A tense moment passed, their breaths shallow and hurried, before recognition set in.

"Edward?" she whispered, her voice edged with disbelief.

The man in front of her straightened, his own hood slightly shifting to reveal sharp, familiar eyes. "Victoria?" He loosened his grip on her wrist but didn't let go completely. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she replied, scanning his attire. His disguise was almost as meticulous as hers—plain, unremarkable clothing, a hood drawn low, the faintest trace of dirt smudged on his cheek to help him blend in.

Edward glanced over his shoulder before exhaling sharply. "This isn't the place to talk."

She studied him for a second, noting the tension in his stance. He was on edge. That was never a good sign. "Then where?"

Victoria barely had time to react before Edward seized her wrist, his grip firm but not painful. Before she could utter a protest, he pulled her swiftly down a narrow alley, his pace quick and urgent.

"Edward—"

"Not now," he muttered, his tone clipped.

They wove through the labyrinth of half-built structures, the skeletal frames of unfinished townhouses towering around them. Wooden beams stood exposed, casting jagged shadows in the fading afternoon light. At last, Edward drew her into one of the incomplete buildings, guiding her behind a stack of unused bricks.

Victoria wrenched her arm free, smoothing the fabric of her sleeve with irritation. "Would you care to explain why you have just dragged me into a construction site as though we were common criminals?"

Edward did not answer immediately. Instead, he moved toward a gaping window frame, his keen gaze sweeping the street beyond. His stance was tense, his gloved hand resting near the revolver concealed beneath his coat.

Victoria's irritation waned, replaced by curiosity—and something deeper. "Edward," she said, quieter now, "why are you so on edge?"

His jaw tightened. "I am being followed."

Her breath stilled. She took a step closer, her expression now sharp with understanding. "By whom?"

"I do not yet know," he admitted. "Whoever they are, they have been trailing me since I left The Black Hound." He turned from the window, meeting her gaze. "They are patient. Too patient."

Victoria's expression darkened the moment Edward mentioned The Black Hound. She took a step closer, her gaze sharp and unyielding.

"You were gathering information concerning my siste—" She caught herself, her breath hitching slightly before she corrected, "Daisy?"

Edward's eyes flickered with something unreadable. A fraction of a second passed before he gave a slow, measured nod.

"I was."

Victoria's fingers curled into fists at her sides. The air between them grew taut, thick with unspoken words. The unfinished walls around them, with their exposed beams and scattered dust, felt like an enclosure—one neither of them could escape until the truth was spoken.

Edward studied her, his keen gaze missing nothing. "I am guessing you are here because of Daisy as well."

Victoria inhaled slowly, steadying herself. "You assume correctly."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The wind howled through the gaps in the unfinished structure, carrying the distant sounds of the Undercity—the murmur of merchants, the distant clatter of hooves, the occasional echo of laughter too sharp to be pleasant.

Edward was the first to break the silence. "You should not be here alone."

Victoria lifted her chin. "And yet, here I am."

A ghost of a smirk touched Edward's lips, but it did not reach his eyes. "Of course you are."

Victoria crossed her arms. "What have you learned?"

Edward's smirk faded. "Enough to know that neither of us will like the answers."

Edward had barely finished his sentence when the sound of heavy boots echoed through the house. Both he and Victoria turned sharply, their conversation forgotten.

A group of five men stepped through the open archway where a door had yet to be placed. Their coats were worn,their faces shadowed beneath low-brimmed hats. The leader, a burly man with a jagged scar running down his cheek, smirked as he looked between Edward and Victoria.

"Well, well, well " he drawled, crossing his arms, "Young lord Wiltshire, you've been making quite the stir in the undercity. And now I find you here, whispering secrets with a lady. That's hardly polite."

Edward's stance remained relaxed, but Victoria saw the shift in his shoulders - subtle, but unmistakable.

"I was unaware I needed to mind my manners in the presence of street rats" Edward replied smoothly.

The leader's smirk twitched. The men behind him shifted ,their hands moving to their belts - knives, brass knuckles, small pistols half- concealed beneath their coats.

Victoria exhaled softly, rolling back her shoulders. "If you plan to waste our time with theatrics " she said coolly, "I suggest you get on with it."

Scar-cheeked chuckled "Feisty. I like her." Then, in an instant, his expression hardened. "Kill them both."

The first man lunged at Edward, drawing a dagger from his belt. Edward sidestepped effortlessly, grabbing the attacker's wrist and twisting it with a sharp crack. The dagger clattered to the floor as the man howled in pain.

Another came at Victoria, swinging a rusted pipe at her head. She ducked swiftly, drawing her revolver in one fluid motion. Without hesitation, she fired - a single shot to the leg. The man crumpled with a strangled cry.

Edward, now engaged with two opponents, delivered a sharp punch to one's gut before elbowing the other across the jaw. The sickening crack of bone echoed through the space.

Victoria turned to find scar-cheeked charging at her, a knife glinting in his grip. She pivoted just in time, catching his wrist and driving her knee into his stomach. He stumbled back, cursing.

Edward had already dispatched the rest. He turned just as Victoria wrenched the knife from scar-cheek's grasp and pressed the barrel of her revolver against his temple.

For the first time, the man looked uncertain. He swallowed hard.

Victoria titled her head. "Now, you're going to tell us exactly who you're working for." She said, her voice calm, almost amused. "Or I'll be forced to ruin that pretty scar of yours."

Scar-cheek hesitated - but one glance at Edward, standing beside her with a pistol of his own, and he knew there was no escape .

His hands lifted slowly "All right ", he rasped "I'll talk."