Kit slept in fits and starts. Every slight noise had him sitting bolt upright in bed with his heart hammering away inside his chest. The sooner they were back on the road, the better, especially since he still had his issues with Matthew. Once or twice, he was certain he heard someone creeping around the house, sneaking past his room. The floorboards would creak and in the stillness of the night he could hear soft breathing.

Whether it was Emily or Matthew, he didn't know, but the sounds unnerved him all the same.

By the time the morning sunlight — the sky a pale pink colour — streamed in through the partially open window, he'd been awake for nearly an hour. The whole time he tried to come up with a different way out of the city, but the dangers remained. The easy escape he dreamed of, along with the Rolls Royce, would have to become memories if they wanted to escape with their lives. That mattered more than a motorcar.

Kit left his guest room and stepped out into the empty hallway, taking cautious steps towards the top of the stairs and trying to not let his bruised leg slow him down or give him away. The low hum of voices washed up the staircase and Kit strained his ears to hear what they were saying.

"Take this, go to the nearest police officer and hand it to him. Be quiet when you close the door."

"Yes, sir."

The rat. There was no mistaking Matthew's voice, and a wave of anger washed through Kit's body. He clenched his hands into a tight fist, feeling them shake. His mistrust of Matthew had been wholly justified, and he wished he had taken Emily out of there several hours before. If he was turning them in to the police, they didn't have my time to make their escape. Still, he knew what to do with rats.

Kit backed up and walked towards Emily's room just as she emerged, the flat cap covering her hair. She looked at Kit, startled, with the gun tucked into the waistband of her trousers.

"Kit? What are you doing?"

"Matthew just sent his servant to find a police officer. He's turning us in."

"He wouldn't do that. I trust him."

"I just heard it. If we don't leave now, we never will. We'll have to steal one of his motorcars and make a break for it."

Emily nodded, though she still looked unsure. Kit understood why. He had been shocked when Phelps had turned them all in to the police, so he knew what betrayal felt like. His eyes were drawn to the gun, the object he had sworn he'd never use, but if it came to it, he wasn't sure Emily would be able to shoot someone she trusted so dearly. Shooting the police officers was different. Shooting someone she knew would make it personal.

"Give me the gun," he said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

She handed him the gun, and Kit wrapped his fingers around the cold metal of the handle. It felt familiar in his hands, as though it were more of an extension of his arm than something he needed to fear because of the damage it could cause. He let his index finger rest on the trigger and the two of them headed down the hallway.

From the top of the stairs, Kit watched Matthew pace in front of the door, waiting for the officer and his servant to return. The surge of anger returned. Kit made sure Emily was behind him and took a few steps down the stairs with his finger still resting on the trigger of the gun.

Matthew looked up when he heard their footsteps, his eyes slowly widening as he saw the barrel of the gun aimed at him. His mouth opened and then closed again in a manor, Kit thought, not that dissimilar from a fish. If he weren't a rat, he would have made a good fish.

"We're leaving," Kit said.

"Now? But you haven't eaten."

"You've sent for the police. I heard you." He took a few more steps towards Matthew, grateful that his hands weren't shaking. "Hand over the keys to one of your motorcars and we'll be on our way."

"Listen to him, Matthew."

"I didn't, Emily. You have to believe me."

"I don't."

"Please, Em. I'd never betray you."

Kit sprinted down the last few steps and slammed the butt of the gun into Matthew's jaw, sending him sprawling on the flowered rug that ran the length of the hallway. He clicked the safety on the gun, aiming it at the centre point of Matthew's forehead. Emily's footsteps echoed down the stairs behind him, but she made no attempt to stop him.

"Tell me where the keys are, or I'll kill you."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me." Kit pointed the gun at Matthew's leg and squeezed. The loud bang echoed through the small hallway and Matthew cried out, blood trickling from his leg. "Now, where are the keys?"

"Over there."

Matthew waved his hand towards a dresser in the hallway. Keeping the gun aimed at him, Kit walked towards the dresser and grabbed the first key he saw, his body humming with excitement. All that fear about shooting someone and he'd done it without a second thought, without really thinking about it.

He turned to look at Emily; her face almost unreadable were it not for a small hint of sadness in her eyes. Not for the wounded man, but for the fact that the person she had trusted so deeply had been willing to turn them in for money. A surge of protectiveness washed over Kit and he pointed the gun back at Matthew's head, almost laughing at the snivelling, pathetic man in front of him.

"I've met plenty of rats in my life, and none of them have been worth more than the dirt beneath my feet. You ain't that different. You deserve to be in the gutter with the rest of them. It takes a coward to betray the people who care about them the most, and what you did is worse than being a coward. Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you."

Matthew groaned, one hand pressing against the bullet wound in his leg. "You won't be able to live with yourself if you do."

"Not a good enough reason."

Without thinking, he squeezed the trigger and watched Matthew slump to the floor with blood oozing out of the hole in his forehead. Kit kept his finger on the trigger and looked at Emily, who tore her eyes away from him. She nodded.

"Let's go."

The two of them ran out of Matthew's home and towards one of the three cars parked in the drive. To Kit's surprise, the keys he'd grabbed were to a black Rolls Royce, not the deep green one he'd be leaving behind, his dream car, but a Rolls Royce all the same. He held onto the gun as he climbed into the driver's seat.

Before they pulled out of the driveway, he glanced at Emily, who smiled. With the wind on his face, the sun on the back of his neck, and his body humming with excitement, they pulled out of the driveway and back onto London's busy streets.

He'd never felt more free.

~~~

First Published - February 8th, 2024