Chapter 842
Chapter 842:
Makenna’s POV:
My blood ran cold as I spotted the wanted posters, instinctively catching Jett’s eye. While the crowd craned their necks and pointed eagerly at the notices, we melted into the shadows, retreating without a sound.
Safe from prying eyes, I massaged my throbbing temples. “This complicates everything. The sea should have swallowed our story whole. What drives Leonardo to waste his gold hunting ghosts?”
Jett’s harsh laugh cut through the air. “His fear runs deep. Every night he trembles, knowing his fraudulent claim could crumble with our words. The crown sits heavy on a thief’s brow—seems he’s forgotten it was never his birthright.”
“His hunt won’t end until I lie cold,” I whispered, anxiety threading through my voice. “Our faces must paper every wall in the werewolf territory by now. Each step we take is like walking through a field of glass.”
The words had barely left my lips when violence erupted—a child sailing through the door of an eatery like autumn leaves caught in a storm.
Four hulking figures burst through the doorway, their shapes dark against the light.
Their ringleader, his face a tapestry of old wounds, ground his boot into the child’s cheek with a snarl. “Worthless rat, thinking you can steal my food! No coin and you dare enter? Show that face again, and I’ll make sure you crawl home!”
Compassion flared in my chest, drawing me forward.
Jett’s grip found my arm instantly. “Makenna, control your heart. We can’t afford to draw attention right now.”
But the sight of the child writhing in the dirt shattered my restraint. I broke free and surged forward, sending the men stumbling back. Their leader caught his balance, rage twisting his features. “Who dares play hero? Get lost before I carve you a new smile!”
I thrust a finger at the trembling child, my voice cutting through the air. “He’s a child! Your cruelty outweighs any lesson you claim to teach. Has gold poisoned your conscience completely?”
𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 @ gⳑ𝗮𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝗍𝖊𝗅𝘴﹒𝖼𝗈𝗺
“Conscience?” They traded cruel smirks between them, their laughter dark as thunder.
One man cocked his head with serpentine grace. “Play hero if you must, but heroes pay their dues. Cover the brat’s debt, or share his fate!”
Ice crept into my voice as I forced my fingers to uncurl. “Name your price.”
The leader’s grin split his face like a festering wound, yellowed teeth gleaming. “One hundred gold coins,” he purred. “Every last one.”
Disbelief struck me like a physical blow. “A hundred gold coins for a child’s meal? Your greed knows no bounds—you’re squeezing blood from stones!”
They formed a wall of flesh and muscle, swaggering with predatory confidence. “No coin, no cause. Run along, little hero.”
Their knuckles cracked like kindling before a storm, bodies coiling to strike.
A thunderous crack split the air, and their leader soared like a broken puppet, launched skyward by an unseen force.
Makenna’s POV:
I turned abruptly, startled, to find a young man in gleaming armor striding toward us. His eyes were sharp as a hawk’s, and the grim set of his lips radiated an unsettling chill.
The once-aggressive men who had been barking threats just moments ago crumbled in his presence. Their bravado melted away as they dropped to their knees, trembling like leaves in a storm.
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