The Murker Street tailor shop became a hideout for Kole's men two years back. It was unusual for a thieving crew to take residence under a merchant, preferring places of lesser interest to others, but the abnormality was what made it so safe. 

After Rufus' death, Kole had indirectly helped the tailor. The basement had been part of a deal from which both parties would benefit. Back then it had not seemed like much. Chase remembered the first time he had stepped foot in the basement, damp, full of rats and empty crates, it had stunk of rotten wood and mould. Now, it smelt and looked like a home to a rowdy group of men, and one silent woman. It was organised, rat free and yet, still barren. With a moment's notice they would still be able to pack away and hide anything that hinted at a hideout. There was nothing too conspicuous about the place. No knives or swords on the walls. No strange cages or workbenches dyed with blood. There wasn't even a chest full of gold. 

There were, however, palettes amongst bolts of fabric, rolled up on shelves; cupboards with old coats and scarves hung before a second railing with extra greaves, cloaks, sashes and other useful gear.

One beaten up sofa was tucked in the corner where the men and Misty sat sharing old bottles of ale from their stash beneath the crates of leather scraps and buckles. Their laughter reached Chase, reminding him he was being antisocial and far too responsible.

He could not help it, he sat at the only desk with Shogan's book, its contents spilled out in front of him. Shogan had a finger in every pie in the city and Chase was having a hard time believing half the enterprises were the short, round man's. He had frequented a few of them, but with his new-found knowledge doubted he would return without dire need.

"Chase!" Stone bellowed. "You can do that tomorrow, mate."

"Yeah!" Rusty burped, making the others cackle in hysterics. "I'm far too deep in me cups to be seeing ye doing a bit o' light reading. Come plant yer pretty arse and join in on our celebrations, eh?"

"There is nothing to celebrate just yet," Chase suppressed a grin, looking up beneath his brow. "Who's to say these parchments aren't useless? Perhaps what I pour myself over are mere accounts of bored whores."

Silence. All eyes fixed on him. His words had somehow made contact with what little sense remained in the inebriated bunch.

"Well?" Misty prompted. "I got no fondness fer useless pauses. Ye gonna tell us we be drinking fer dregs or nay?"

Chase waited a moment longer before answering. "I can tell you, you're drinking for a whole lot of something," Chase shrugged, earning loud cheers. 

Misty extricated herself and jogged over, a bottle of sour wine in her hand. "Ye gotta have one swig, mate. This stuff be vile."

Chase accepted the offered bottle and threw his head back. The wine burnt his tongue and corrupted his throat. He lowered the bottle, cringing from the taste. "That's poison! How are you drinking that?"

She grinned, pushing back her white blonde hair with a flippant flick. "Ye forget who ye be talking to."

Chase raised a brow and snorted. He took another gulp of the wine, thinking it may taste better the second time round. If anything, it tasted worse. He wiped his mouth with the side of his hand and shuddered. "I did not see you change," he said, indicating to her brown breeches and tan shirt. "The dress not to your liking?"

"I burnt that damned frock soon as I be free of eyes." She screwed up her face and climbed onto the desk. Chase scrambled to rescue some of the pages from her boots, collecting them into a pile. "Makes no sense to me, ye know. Why ladies be wearing such hellish items."

"It is womanly and attractive."

"It's impractical."

"Not every woman flies atop the city as silently as a hawk."

She sucked on her teeth, grabbing the bottle from Chase. "Aye, but they should. Maybe it would knock some sense into 'em. Make 'em realize their legs can do more than dance and hide under all them fabrics. Ye know, I tried escaping, but I tripped. Tripped! Ye ever see me trip on anything?"

"I cannot say I have."

"Right. Cause I am bloody famous fer not tripping and not being caught."

"You're famous for killing people."

"Meh," Misty leaned back, legs folded. "But them boots have been thrown into them canals for now. Trying to make a new name fer meself."

Chase smiled. "You ever miss it?"

Misty had been one of the deadliest death dealers in Lethilian for years. Surprising considering she did not even reach his shoulders and appeared at best malnourished, her legs thin twigs and her arms, long spidery weapons. "I been killing folk for half me life, mate." She sighed, scratching at something on her leg. "I suppose in ways I miss the feels of excitement. The challenge, ye know? But that be the only part. I don't miss him. And I sure don't miss em posters of me hangin' on every wall. Make me feel ruddy bad about me face, ye know?"

Chase nodded. "Those posters weren't that bad. I was around by the time you got your name known to the peekays and I saw them plastered on every flat surface available. You looked nice – dangerous – but nice."

"They called me the bloody White Death, had me teeth look like they be belonging in a horse's mouth and me eyes be like monsters' with no dark in em and all."

The White Death. A name unspoken on the streets for years. To be her target was to be a stone before one knew better. Hiring her skills had come at a price – having her allegiance was priceless.

Misty snapped her fingers in front of his nose. "Yer thinkin too hard, mate. Ye need more drink?"

Chase sighed, closing the book and placing it in the top drawer. "Perhaps you are right."

"Ye know it." Misty grinned, rolling off the desk.

Chase followed her to the other men and accepted each offered drink. He was patted on the shoulder and back so many times, and so hard, he thought he may find bruises the next morning, but he appreciated the welcome.

"I would kill to be in that room when Shogan is told," Jasper was saying. He then squatted so he was half his height and pushed out his belly. "What you mean he was snooping?" he mocked in what was supposedly Shogan's voice. Chase laughed. "What did he snoop into?"

Jasper straightened and covered his two front teeth. "He snooped in the girls' draws, oh fat Shogan, lord fief, sir."

Again he squatted. "What did he take?"

"Nofing."

"Nothing?"

"Yep. He came, embarrathd your beft men and left wif a laugh. Think we ought 'a call it quits, oh fat Shogan, lord fief, sir."

They all laughed as Jasper continued his theatrics. Stone's sonorous cackles had Misty clutching at her sides, because – for whatever reason – she found his laugh funnier than any good joke.

Chase laughed along with them, wondering where Kole was. He knew his friend would go to Sera, but it had been his plan to meet back at Murker Street at midnight. That was half an hour ago.

The back of his head pounded like an angry, unpaid wench at her client's door. He moaned. Something cold and hard pressed against his face—the floor. He pushed himself to his hands and knees, waited for his head to catch up. He investigated the source of his pain with tentative fingers and met a soft mound of tender flesh just behind his ear. He winced.

"Balls," he croaked. Kole squeezed his eyes, opened them. The world was devoid of colour. His vision blurred, his sense of direction and time, disoriented. He tasted the tang of blood on his tongue and wondered what he had bitten and why.

The head wound might explain its source, but how had... colour returned and with it the evening's events. He looked up, ignoring the dizziness that made him sway.

"Bay!" he crawled to the boy's side. Bay's face was turned from him, lying on his stomach. Kole flipped him onto his back and felt hot tears burn his skin. "Balls!" he punched the stones on the ground. A new pain flared in his knuckles, dwarfed by the growing ache in his chest. Vengeance was the strongest urge, but as it grappled with hatred, anger and fear, grief grabbed at his heart and squeezed.

The boy was dead, his lips a dark purple, his skin pale, a creeping deathly yellow creeping along once pink, healthy cheeks. His eyes still open. Young eyes, such very young eyes. Eyes that would see no more of what the world had to offer. Kole closed them with a shaking hand.

"I'll get him, Bay. I'll make him pay. I will make him suffer."

Kole sat in the alley with Bay's body in his lap for countless minutes, his mind working so hard no sense came of his thoughts. A part of him screamed for vengeance, but that was foolish. He calmed himself, thought of what was in front of him. He had a body to deal with. No point running after Bay's killer if he was caught. 

A cold shiver touched his spine. Even Rufus had stuck to a rule: no children. As ruthless as he had been, that rule he always abided by. Every time Kole blinked he saw Bay's eyes filled with terror as the blade moved. If this man ruled with the blood of babes staining his hands, Kole had a moral obligation to stop him. Otherwise no child was safe. Kole stopped his pacing, his entire being becoming rigid. Hannah.

Heavy as corpses were, Bay's was light, too light. The only way he could hide the body was to get rid of it. There was a canal close by. He slipped through the shadows and found it flooded. It stunk, but at least it would disguise the smell of flesh for the time being. He did not know when he would be able to fetch Bay's corpse. The boy deserved more in death. He did not deserve death at all, but Kole had little choice. Tears of farewell cut down his cheek as the body toppled and splashed into the water. His mind raced towards Hannah and Sera's safety. He had to get to them.

He swore he would return as soon as he could for Bay. He would deliver the boy to his mother and find something—anything—to say. It would be useless, he knew, no words were going to bring her boy back.

Kole took off. The pain in his head had subsided, replaced with a dull ache. He flew across roof and street, his legs so used to the path he barely looked down.

Once close enough to his home, he made his way to the ground and ran the rest of the way. Candle light flickered from the few windows facing the street, but he did not need light to know his way. The house was situated between two larger buildings. One story, but with a balcony above it from its neighbours, it was hidden, dark and cheap, supplying enough shelter for its three occupants. It was quiet. 

It had been Sera's childhood home, and since Kole's childhood home had been larger, too expensive to maintain, as teenagers they had decided to live in the smaller one.

Kole jumped up the two porch steps and opened the front door as quietly as he could. He needn't have as both Sera and Hannah looked up from their seats by the small fireplace. Something released his heart and he exhaled.

"Koltin!" Hannah exclaimed, jumping up with her sketchbook. "Look. Sorry, how was work?"

Kole checked the street a final time and closed the door. He forced a smile as Hannah thrust a sketch at him.  A cold sweat trickled down his back and the front of his chest, his fight and flight still fresh in his mind. But he refused to bring the violence home. He would deal with it later.

"It's Sera. Nicely done, Sparrow."

Hannah smiled proudly, clutching her sketchbook to her breast. "I am still struggling with some things."

"We can take a look at it in the morning," Kole offered, his eyes on Sera who watched the exchange with a mug of tea in her hands. She sat on the only sofa, her legs tucked in front of her with a blanket, just as Hannah had drawn. Her caramel coloured hair was pulled away from her face in a messy braid over her shoulder, a detail he could see Hannah had struggled with. The eyes were uncannily correct. She had captured Sera's warm gaze almost down to every long, curved eyelash. The mouth could have been softer; Sera's mouth was less triangular and her lips longer than the heart-shaped lips Hannah had depicted and the drawn Sera had little definition in her nose, ignoring the faded splash of freckles that clung along her cheekbones.

"If you're going to tell me it's late—"

"It is late. You have Porter's in the morning."

"Yeah, but I wanted to draw and Sera said I could draw until you got home. And now you're home, so just gimme one comment. Just one, please..."

Kole took a deep breath in through his nose. His sister was safe. He resisted the urge to reach out and pull her to him. Hannah would not see through the action, but Sera would. Instead, he examined her and found she was wholly sound. His sister was small for a ten year old, but what she lacked in stature she made up for in lip. He crouched to look her in the eye. "It's a good drawing, Sparrow." He took another glance at it and waited for her to speak. 

"Is that it?" she asked, both hands going to her hips.

"Until tomorrow morning, that is all I am going to say."

Hannah narrowed her eyes. "You're just saying that to get rid of me."

"Hannah," Sera intoned.

"So what if I am," Kole said, ignoring Sera's glare. "I promise to not only give you my opinion, but also suggest improvements."

"Throw new supplies into the mix and we may have a deal."

"You bargaining with me, missy?"

"You bargain with Sera all the time."

He would have laughed on any other night. "You sure you want to go up against the bargaining champion? You got a good deal going. You sure you want to risk losing it?"

She held his gaze with her own fiery glare before she rolled her eyes. "Ugh! Fine." She turned, flicking her braid. "But I expect this promise to be kept." 

Kole hid the guilt he felt at those words with a smile.

His sister ran to Sera, gave her a quick peck on the cheek before returning to Kole and hugged him around the neck. He pulled her to him, unable to stop himself.

"Sleep well," he said, smiling as she trotted off into her room and closed the door. He straightened, his eyes on Sera, checking her as he had done Hannah. "What if I came home later?"

"She would have fallen asleep." Sera shrugged. 

He sat down on the opposite side of the sofa, watching her. She was safe. He wondered what bruises showed on his skin as her eyes took him in. He must have been staring at her for a while cause the corner of her lips twitched.

"How was work?" she asked.

Kole decided there was no need to worry her. She would only fret herself into a knot and meddle. The gods knew how much Sera meddled with other people's problems. "I got what I wanted," he said, referring to earlier events. 

She raised both brows. "When do you not?"

He narrowed his eyes but couldn't help the smirk. I hope those gods you believe in hear you, my love. "When I am around you."

Her foot kicked out, catching him on his thigh. He snatched it before she pulled it back. "Kole," she squealed, "I have tea in my hands."

"Put it down."

She scooted back, leaned over to place the mug on the ground, and faced him again. "There, you got what you wanted."

He laughed. "Not everything. Not yet." He swung his legs onto the couch so his boots touched her toes.

She glared at him. He made quick work of his boots and resumed his position. Sera's feet felt cold against his own. How was he going to protect her? The stranger knew who she was and what she meant to him. He'd do anything to keep her safe. Anything. But how was he to shield her when he couldn't shield his own men. He had to find the stranger, and fast. He had to put an end to this threat.

"Are you home for the night?" she asked.

"I have to be back at the den in an hour or so."

"An hour!" She feigned shock. Grunting softly, she crawled next to him to lie at his side. She fit perfectly next to him. She always had. "An entire hour for me? What did I do to deserve such honours from the king of the streets."

"Shhh," he hushed. "That is supposed to be a secret." He shuffled his body down so her head rested on his shoulder.

She smiled at him, her arms wrapping around to pull him closer. He kissed her forehead, breathing in her scent and closing his eyes. 

There were ways to find someone in Lethillian. He knew them all. Rufus had never been one to accept a failed assassination, and Kole had made it his mantra to never fail his mentor, only kill him. He'd need Chase's help though. Information was never free and besides for gold, information in the underworld was often bought with blood — one's own. 

He had not set foot in the pits in years. The idea of doing so again sickned him. If there was one place he hated more than anything, one area he refused to go near, it was the pits. Beneath the city, it collected all the maggots and leeches the city had to offer. It attracted men double the size of trees and stronger than they had reason to be. It was where the criminals kept their criminals and yet, it was also where you could find out almost anything. 

If this stranger truly did have more power and strength to not kill Kole outright, he had to have raised a great deal of money fast. Men and territory took coin. For him to be running an operation bigger than Kole's, he had to have a lot of it and if he had a lot of it, why had Kole not heard of it? 

During his time in the alley, with only Bay's corpse for company, Kole had come to one conclusion: the man had come from the pits, or at least gathered wealth there. 

Sera stirred next to him. "I can hear your head working."

"You have a gift then."

She propped her chin up to look at him. "No, I just know you. So what's wrong?" Her fingers reached to brush his short hair behind his ears. 

He scoffed at her perceptiveness and tucked a stray hair behind her ear, mimicking the circles she was making in his own. He had no desire to answer her. He pulled her head closer by her chin and kissed her. She responded but pulled back, a question about to spill from her lips.

"It's not something that needs to be talked about," he said, reclaiming her mouth. He breathed in slowly, kissing her with as much restraint as he could muster, trying to commit this moment to memory. She would love him through anything. She had said so on many occasions, but looking at her, he knew she shouldn't. She was not going to be dragged into this mess of his. He'd rather see her with another man than dead because of him. 

Her hand trailed down his torso, feeling every rib through his clothing. She was taunting him, luring him into her web of safety. He longed for it, as fleeting as it may be. Her touch was enough to make him forget his name and that was all he wanted.

She pulled away. "You know I hate it when you do that," she said against his lips. 

"Do what?" He grinned, kissing the tip of her nose.

"I know when you are trying to distract me."

"Then stop me." He grinned, pulling her underneath him, her arms wrapped around his back.

"I will when I want to." She grinned.

••Author's Note••

New scenes! Ah exciting :)

As I said before, if anything is unclear... which it kinda might be now since the third and fourth chapter are kinda combined in this one in a way, let me know :)