Fear still patters through my veins, skittering like a spooked colt over my skin and trailing goose bumps in its wake.

The images of before, of when my family was taken by the same people we are surrounded by now, are loath to leave. Especially when I'm surrounded by dirt and farther beneath the surface than even an underrat could say.

Infiltrate the new guild trying to overcome all Underground guilds, get information on their plans so we're not left striking in the dark at things we do not understand, and get out.

That's it. That's all we need to do.

I take a deep breath, Silver's eyes find mine, searching with his penetrating stare. I give him a slight nod, letting him know I'm alright.

"Getcha barfin' done and get out here 'fore the boss kills ya!" our designated guard yells, but not without a little bit of a tremble in his voice. Nika did kill his companion at the front door, of course.

This guild could really use some old fashioned common sense. They're hiring all the ryffe raffe and seem to be quite unorganized. We should've been dead the moment Nika killed that man. Which means either the head boss doesn't care about his underlings or... he doesn't care about his underlings.

All the better for us, but it still rankles to see anything in such disrepair and life so easily forfeited.

Nika looks me over with a sharp eye, her gaze taking in a few spots where I have hidden needles with concoctions meant to disable men in minutes... although I haven't used those in so long. It's been so long since I've been able to choose life for those I fight. Who knew fighting murderers and kidnappers could be considered the good 'ol days?

Nika's eyes take in the black hood I have pulled over my face and the daggers at my waist. She throws out her lip in a pout. "Wouldn’t you take a different shirt? Those black rags do nothing for your figure."

She picks at the fabric. I pull a blade and use it to caress her finger. I know I’m dealing with a wolf. And wolves respect one thing—strength.

I snort a laugh. "Figure? Tell that to the next stick you see."

Nika’s eyes gleam and her lips quirk, but she pulls her red fingernails back. "Lover boy, do you see a stick around here?" She gestures with her head to Silver, who studiously avoids looking at us, even though I know he has the ears of a feline.

I shake my head, fighting a scowl. Or it could be a grin. Who’s to say?

"Word of warning," Nika says, her voice a little... off. I glance up from checking all blades smoothly come from their sheathes. "I’m going to get you close. It’s your responsibility to get out."

I have a knife in hand and Silver is at my back with barely a whisper of sound. But Nika only gives a raunchy salute and walks out. Gilbert edges around us, glancing at Silver and quickly away.

Gilbert’s middle is now slightly… less. But Nika did some mighty fine work, cause he still looks decently plump even though he lost a hundred pounds.

His eyes flicker up to meet mine and his lips pucker and his eyes shadow with something that looks remarkably like regret.

He mumbles something, and Silver jerks. The other girl, who was my twin, darts behind some crates to be a spy.

"Caution, Mau Tigress," Silver whispers.

I swallow hard. "You don’t have to tell me twice," I hiss. "Too late to go back now, though."

"You're certain?"

I shrug. "We want to know." It sounds like I’m trying to convince myself.

He shifts, his cloak trailing behind him as he taps his thumb on a blade. He abruptly stills, looking me dead in the eye, forehead creased. "No. We’ll find another way. It's too risky."

His lips hold a slight frown as his eyes swirl between molten silver and blue.

A smile parts my lips despite our predicament. "With you at my side, what’s to fear?"

He looks at me from the door, eyes hard and jaw ticking. "Don’t. It's too dangerous."

I let the smile fall. My fingers tremble on my blade, so I clench my fist until my knuckles bleach white. A deep breath calms me somewhat... his lack of faith in me is cracking at my already shot nerves. I try not to think of the massive mountain over my head and how it could crush—I shake the thought off. "How are we supposed to get out of here now? We’d look worse trying to run."

His eyes flash golden, an animistic fear in his eyes. I've never seen someone look so... fierce. But that's not even the right word. He's larger than life in this moment, and if he said he'd take on the worlds alone... I'd believe him.

I take an unconscious step back, knowing he won't hurt me, but some primal need deep inside drives me to retreat, to fear, knowing that the man before me is dangerous. Terrifying. Beautiful.

Pain blossoms on his face at something he sees in me before he shuts down, bowing his head and pulling his hood.

My heart aches. I didn’t… it wasn’t my intention to hurt him. I may’ve stepped back in fear… but I don’t fear him. I step forward. "Please, Silver," I beg, hoping he will open back up, that we can continue speaking. Make a plan.

He doesn’t look up. "You will do what you will do, I understand."

Hurt morphs to anger that thrums through me. I rest my hands on my hips, glaring, hoping he can see the heat in my gaze even beneath the hood. I just want to know he believes in me. That what he has said in the past about my prowess was not exaggerated. That his belief in me stands.

This... this hurts.

He looks up, but his face is the blank mask he shows the world… I’d forgotten what it looked like. It feeds the hurt. And I hate it. But I shouldn’t be able to shut him down. He’s an assassin. A hard, cold, beautiful man. A man with a thick skin.

But I’m beginning to wonder if his armor covers what’s left of a beautiful, soft soul that is more wounded than a dragon with clipped wings.

And that makes me angry all over again as I study him, because I hate that he's hurting... and hate even more that he blocked me out when he was hurting. He's carried my burdens so often... won't he let me carry his?

But now is not the time for that discussion.

"How are we supposed to get out of here now? We need this information." My voice is harsher than intended.

"You seem determined to be a martyr."

I jerk back as if stung. "I’m only trying to do what’s right."

His face shuts down further, his eyes swirling molten silver. "What’s right is turning this over to the proper authorities, who are trained for this. What’s right is being home with your family, living your best life. What’s right is facing what you run from instead of chasing the ghost of your father in your guilt."

His eyes flash with something. Regret, maybe? He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

But I can’t seem to care. His words struck too close to the walls about my heart. Struck too close to the reason I do all this… and what I can’t stand to face.

The guilt of a young child who may could’ve changed her father’s mind about leaving. Who knew something was wrong, who felt the pit of dread growing, but who said nothing as her father walked through the door, waving and smiling…. never to return.

Numbness covers me as if I'd used my Gift. And now... ahh, heck. I'm doing exactly what he did.

And that somehow makes me angrier than ever.

"Mau Tigress," Silver whispers, voice stricken. "Forgive me—" he chokes off.

I walk to the door, following a well-padded Gilbert, Madame Nika, and an underground guard from the ice cooler to the coals. Part of me knows what Silver’s gonna say, and I know if I let him, he’d talk me right out of this. But what I said before is true. We need to know.

Even if we don’t want to.

And I can’t face the truth of his words. So I’ll run.

I’ll run until I can’t.

But I don’t realize can't is coming sooner than any of us hope.

The walls in this place are smooth. I run a hand over the glistening brown and black surface, not even feeling where a pix-axe must’ve eaten at the rock to make this passageway.

There are circular lights all along the walls. They look similar to water lights in that they glow. But they float freely instead of on a normal post or imbedded into the wall. They also don’t need water or a different substance to activate them.

Dread pools in my breast. I step closer.

These aren’t some sort of sophisticated water light.

These are enslaved fairies.

Tens. Hundreds.

And they are used to light passageways. Sentient, beautiful souls, taken advantage of and left to rot as lights in a dark, dank, underground tunnel.

Bile rises in my throat and my heart aches.

Silver sets a hand on my hand before I reach out to the nearest one to set it free. I glance over, my eyes pleading, but he shakes his head.

I clench my free hand around a black knife, letting the bite of the hilt calm me while taking a breath. I understand. If I do this now, I warn our enemy. I might as well run naked through the halls shouting that the fantastic Guardian is here.

But hurt from what he said has turned me slightly bitter. What right does he have to say those things? How does he know?

No, he doesn’t know. He can’t know I’m responsible for my father’s death. Or at least… responsible for not standing up. Not trying hard enough. Not being courageous enough to speak and act.

So of course, I try harder now. I do everything in my power to regret nothing. To act when I need to act and speak when I need to speak.

He has no right to say I run. I’m not. I’m just trying to do what’s right.

And what right does he have to tell me to leave this fairy in chains?

I clench my fist and twist my arm from his grasp. Beneath the anger, beneath the hurt, I understand what he’s saying. The consequence of freeing her would be disastrous.

But if I don’t free her? How can I live with myself seeing something chained within my reach and not breaking it free?

"Good comes to those who wait," Silver says, lips hardly moving, even as he stands with hands behind his back and face a blank slate.

I snort. I don’t think scroll teachers meant for those words to be used in such a situation as this.

And yet, I wait, following Madame Nika and Gilbert down the hall, even as I battle with myself for such a decision with each orb we pass and each step of our guide. My shoulders slump. I’m so tired of being rational. So, so tired of fighting.

I straighten as we take another turn and stop before a plain door with two guards.

Two men with missing teeth and red-rimmed eyes open the door, stinking of semi-sweet opioids and bad hygiene.

They grin, eyeing Nika. One whistles. Nika laughs, bowing at the man. He takes a good look at the revealed cleavage.

My disgust turns to downright cold-blooded horror when I follow Nika through those doors.

Silver was right. I can’t even look at him as my feet remain frozen to a cold, hard, dark ground.

I’ve led us both into a trap.

Heck.