Bodies dropped everywhere in the crossfire as she and Teo fought off the Jackals. Raurie slammed her hammer into the head of a Jackal who’d tried to sneak up behind her. People leapt over bodies and ran toward the door, but Aina noticed some of them standing over the bodies of fallen Jackals and rifling through their pockets for whatever could be taken. Whistles blew and heavy boots pounded on the floor of the storage building above, probably Diamond Guards rushing toward the sound of bullets. If any of them caught her here, she’d be taken straight to General Bautix.

Ryuu rose above the table and shot a Jackal who’d been approaching Teo and Raurie from behind with a knife. The bullet hit the man directly between the shoulder blades and he collapsed, blood pouring out of his back. When shots fired at them next, leaving smoke in their wake, Aina pushed Ryuu’s head down behind the table.

“Where did you learn to shoot like that?” she asked. “You never mentioned you’d be useful in a fight.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he whispered, a tense smile tugging at one side of his lips. A shot knocked one of the wooden table legs nearly clean off, and they both winced. Aina shook her head to try to clear the sound of bullets firing at her from every direction. Ryuu’s eyes blazed with a fire so different from what she’d seen until now. The change shocked her, but she wouldn’t complain about having someone else to help against the Jackals.

A bullet hit a wooden barrel near them. The barrel was knocked over, alcohol pouring out of the new hole in its front. As it rolled away, brown liquid spilled into a drainage gate next to it. A small padlock was around the rusty handle, but it looked weak enough to break.

Aina couldn’t believe what she was about to suggest. One of the only things she hated more than the darkness were spiders, and the city’s underground network of tunnels promised both.

“See the handle in the floor there?” she asked Ryuu, passing him one of her scythes. “Take this, break the lock, and open the grate. We’ll make our way out through the sewers. Try not to get shot.”

Before he could say anything, she stood and faced off with a man sneaking up on them. She twisted his wrist so his weapon dropped, then sliced through the side of his neck. Just then, another Jackal swung a fist adorned with brass knuckles at her head.

He was the same boy who’d cornered her in the alley after she’d killed the baker, the same boy who’d survived on the streets like she had. She ducked to avoid the strike, but his next punch was aimed at her side. Her head spun as he hit her bandaged bullet wound, the brass knuckles sharp and hard. The wound seared with pain, the skin tearing open and bleeding as she fell back.