Chapter 7

Ember’s POV

The first thing I noticed wasn’t the gun. It was his smile.

It wasn’t wide or cartoon-villain sinister; it was small, measured, like someone closing a box and clicking the latch. Rain dripped from his hair onto the collar of his dark coat. The smell of wet wool and gun oil rolled into the shed, mingling with the scent of old wood and grease.

I froze, one hand still clamped around the warning note. My mind ran in frantic circles: How did he find me? Where was the repairman? Did Duke know? Had Duke told him?

Aaron stepped fully inside, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft thud that sounded louder than a gunshot. He didn’t raise the pistol. He didn’t need to.

“I give you a room, food, safety,” he said mildly, as if rehearsing lines. “And you repay me with this little… field trip?”

“I” My voice cracked. “I was only”

“Spare me.” His gaze flicked to the crumpled note in my fist. “Where’s the old man?”

“I don’t”

Aaron moved faster than I expected. In two steps he was in front of me, hand snapping out. He didn’t hit me. He plucked the note from my fingers and held it up to the dim light.

“Run. He knows everything.” He read it aloud, tone flat. “Do you know what everything means, Ember?”

He said my real name like a blade sliding out of its sheath.

A shiver went through me. “I’m not”

“You’re not Ember Leighton?” His smile deepened. “Or you’re not as clever as you thought? Which is it?”

The shed felt suddenly too small. I glanced past him at the door, at the rain-shiny garden beyond. If I bolted, he’d have time to shoot me before my second step.

“You planned to meet him,” Aaron said. “To give him something. What?”

I pressed my lips together. I wasn’t going to hand him the ledger. Not yet. Not until I had no other choice.

He tilted his head. “Do you know how I built this house, Ember?” His voice dropped to a whisper, almost gentle. “Not with money. With information. People think power comes from guns. It doesn’t. It comes from knowing things before anyone else does.”

He took one slow step toward me. “And now I know you’ve been moving pieces on my board.”

My back hit the wall. Tools rattled on their hooks.

Aaron reached out, palm up, as if inviting me to give him a dance. “Bring me what you stole, and maybe I'll let you keep breathing.”

My fingers twitched toward my pocket where the ledger lay folded like a paper heart. Giving it up meant losing my only leverage. Not giving it up meant… I didn’t finish the thought.

He sighed as if disappointed by a child. “You really are like her.”

“Like who?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.

He smiled, eyes glittering. “The last girl who thought she could play me. She ran too. Didn’t get far.”

Something inside me hardened. “You killed her.”

He didn’t answer. Was the answer enough?

Rain drummed on the roof. My pulse drummed louder. Somewhere out in the garden a generator coughed.

Think, Ember. Panic is worse than knives.

“I don’t have anything,” I whispered. “Just cleaning rags and herbs for the cook.”

Aaron’s eyes flicked over my uniform. “Show me your pockets.”

I made myself breathe once, slow, then shoved both hands into my pockets as if obeying. My left hand found the flashlight Duke had given me. I found the ledger on my right.

And in the heartbeat it took him to step closer, I flicked the flashlight on and hurled it at his face.

Light exploded across the shed. He flinched, eyes squeezing shut, gun dipping.

I ran.

I hit the door with my shoulder and stumbled into the rain. Cold water slapped my skin, but the shock cleared my head. The garden blurred into dark shapes and glistening hedges.

Behind me Aaron cursed. A gunshot cracked, splintering the doorframe inches from my arm.

I zigzagged across the lawn, slipping in the mud, lungs burning. My only thought was: hedge. The weak corner Duke had shown me.

Another shot. A burst of stone beside my foot.

I dove behind a marble statue of some forgotten saint. The smell of wet moss filled my nose. I pressed a hand to my chest; the ledger was still there.

Aaron’s footsteps crunched on the gravel. Slow. Measured. He wasn’t running. He was hunting.

“Do you think you can run from me, little dove?” His voice carried over the rain. “Every path out of here ends at my door.”

I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood. He was right. The gates were locked. The hedges are high. Guards on every perimeter.

But Duke had mapped holes. One hole.

I bolted again, keeping low. The flashlight lay somewhere behind me in the mud. My shoes were slick. My heart slammed.

Through a gap in the hedges, I glimpsed the north wall, a narrow section where the stones were crumbling, a climbing vine thick as a rope. Beyond it, the faint glimmer of the road.

I reached the wall and clawed at the vine. Mud smeared my palms. My breath came in gasps.

“Stop.” Aaron’s voice was closer now.

I scrambled upward, fingers slipping. The vine tore. I almost fell.

A hand closed around my ankle.

I screamed.

Aaron yanked me down. I hit the wet grass hard, pain shooting up my elbow. The gun was gone; he’d grabbed me with both hands.

“Enough games,” he hissed. Rain slicked his hair to his forehead, eyes blazing. “Where is it?”

I kicked, twisting, nails raking his arm. He caught my wrist, slammed it into the ground.

And then out of nowhere another voice shouted, “Let her go!”

A flash of movement. A heavy wrench swung down and cracked against Aaron’s shoulder. He roared, staggering.

The grey-haired repairman.

He’d come back.

“Run!” he barked at me.

I scrambled to my feet. Aaron recovered faster than I thought possible. He lunged at the old man, fist connecting with his jaw. The wrench clattered to the ground.

For a heartbeat, I stood frozen, watching them struggle in the rain. Aaron’s strength was brutal, the old man’s desperation raw.

Then I turned and ran toward the hedge.

Bullets didn’t whistle past me this time. Only the sound of fists and rain.

I reached the wall, grabbed the vine again, and hauled myself up. My muscles screamed. My palms were raw. But I made it halfway.

Below, the struggle ended with a dull crack. I didn’t look back.

A hand, different, bigger, closed around my calf.

Not Aaron’s. Duke’s.

“Don’t,” he hissed. “You’ll get shot on the road. Come down.”

I stared down at him, soaked and shaking. “You knew,” I whispered. “You told him.”

“No!” His eyes were wild. “I heard the shots. I came to get you out. But you can’t go over now. The guards”

Behind him, Aaron straightened, blood on his lip, gun back in his hand.

Duke saw it the same instant I did. He shoved me upward. “Go!”

I scrambled higher, heart in my throat. My fingers caught the top of the wall. Rain blurred everything.

A gunshot cracked.

Duke jerked as if punched, stumbled, and fell to his knees.

I screamed his name.

Aaron raised the gun again, expression unreadable. “Come down, Ember,” he called. “Or he dies slow.”

Duke coughed, blood mixing with rain. “Don’t… listen…” he rasped. “Go…”

Another shot. A stone exploded beside my hand.

I pulled myself onto the top of the wall, teetering. Beyond lay the road dark, empty, maybe freedom, maybe death. Behind me A,aron lelevelledhe gun, eyes locked on mine.

“Choose,” he said softly. “Him or you.”

My heart slammed. Rain poured. The ledger felt like fire under my shirt.

And then headlights appeared on the road, a car coming fast, engine roaring, cutting through the storm.

Aaron’s gaze flicked toward it, just for a second.

“I jumped”.