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Vale looks around nervously and then at me, gauging how I’m reacting. It’s kind of funny how nervous he seems.

“You okay there, Vale? I’ll protect you. Are these artists freaking you out?” I ask.

At the mention of his name his attention snaps back on me like a warm light.

“Who told you my name?”

I raise my eyebrows in response. “I remember you,” I tell him quietly.

He’s tucked us against the brick wall of an alley. There’s garbage trampled down in layers underfoot, nothing like the sparkling alleys of Baltimore.

“Tell me what you’re doing in Anchorage,” he orders, staring down at me intently.

“Looking for Zeph. Is he at the Forge?” I take a gamble, trying to act like I know more than I do.

“Your mother is Calista Bloome and I know you were up for HighClear. How did you end up here?”

“I got deported, didn’t I?” I go for flippant.

I think it works, because Vale’s brown eyes widen. Just as I think he is going to answer me there’s a commotion back in the market. A vendor is upset, and shouting at another man. People are jumping in to yell and push each other.

I twist around to see what’s happening just as a loud crack echoes and Vale’s touching me again, turning us and pulling us down, tucking me against him. The shouting grows louder as a fight breaks out and there’s a loud pop, pop. Is someone shooting a gun?

I try to see around him but Vale’s arm keeps me down, against him, his body blocking me from whatever is happening at the market. It doesn’t sound good. Vale seems to agree. With my head against the smooth leather of his jacket, his body warmth seeping through, I can feel his heart rate increase and his breathing speed up.

“We need to get out of here,” he tells me, low and urgent. I wiggle against his grasp while he’s reaching inside his coat.

“Amity, what are you doing?” he demands.

“I’m getting out of here,” I tell him and break his grasp on my arm. “And don’t call me that, call me Ami.”

“Where can I find you?” he asks, following me up the alley. I pull my hat down and slip away further, edging around the crowd toward the other side of the market.

“I’ll meet you back here,” I tell him with a small smile. Vale’s head turns as that worried energy comes back. I see the street I came on and slip further away from him.Tomorrow, I mouth at him,meet you here tomorrow.

He nods, standing still and letting me go. The peopleswirl around him, men, some women, fleeing the market, trying to get away from the fight.

I can still see him when I glance back, rooted to the spot where I left him, his head turned toward me. I can’t see his eyes under the shade of his hat, but I feel his attention on me, watching me.