Page 61 of Hunted to Be Mine

“That’s barely wide enough for a kid,” Selina said.

“You first. Then me.”

I boosted her up, hands at her waist. She paused, looked back, worry in her eyes.

“I’ll be right behind you.”

She nodded and wriggled through with a grace I hadn’t expected. A soft grunt, then metal clanged, some kind of platform. Utility access, not a real fire escape.

More gunfire tore into the apartment, closer. He’d shifted or brought friends. Either way, the clock ran short.

I took a breath and forced my frame through the opening, scraping ribs and healing scars. It was too tight. For a second, I stuck there, a perfect target, but the wood splintered and I spilled onto a narrow maintenance platform.

Selina steadied me. We stood on a metal catwalk behind the building, overlooking a six-story drop to the alley. Frost slicked the grating. Electrical boxes. Vents. Cables.

“This way.” I nodded toward a ladder at the far end.

We moved as fast as the ice allowed. The sky dimmed into winter evening. The wind bit deeper each minute. Our breath showed white, little signals for anyone watching.

Glass shattered behind us. Someone going in through the front. Thirty seconds, maybe less, before they found the bathroom window.

“Down. All the way.”

Selina went first, quick and careful. I followed, eyes on the window. A dark shape filled the opening as I dropped below the sightline. I didn’t need to see the face.

Blackout had arrived.

I sped up, slid the last rungs, hit concrete, caught Selina’s hand, and pulled her into the alley’s shadows.

“He’s behind us. We need to disappear. Now.”

We spilled onto a side street lined with old brick buildings, their fronts weathered under the dying light. A few people hurried past, heads down against the wind, oblivious to the hunt. Streetlamps blinked on. We stayed out of the glow.

We walked fast. Running would have drawn attention; standing still got you killed. Narrow streets. Blind corners. Not my city.

“Where are we going?” she asked, keeping pace.

“Off main streets. Break sightlines. Then we find wheels.”

We slid through a narrow cut between blocks. Laundry lines overhead; a few shirts frozen stiff. Black ice under our shoes.

“Do you know where we are now?”

“Karlín. Pretty sure.”

I’d mapped the grid when we had arrived, flagged exits and chokepoints. Planning helped. Familiarity saved lives. This wasn’t my ground.

Blackout would know that.

We came out on a wider street with shuttered shops. A few locals hunched at a tram stop, smoke curling into the freeze. I kept us in the shadows, my hand at the small of her back.

“He’ll track us. Blackout’s Quinta gen. He’s…” I let it hang.

“Enhanced.” She owned the word. “I read the files. Better conditioning. Better tech.”

“Better everything.” I scanned ahead. “He’s trained to hunt people like me.”

A delivery truck passed, headlights sliding across us. I braced for rounds through the light. Nothing. Yet.