The streets of Laudendale were not kind to runners.

  The cobblestone roads were slick from the evening mist, and packed with far too many sharp corners that could send a man careening straight into trouble. Normally, Finn Tumblepot preferred a clear, mapped-out escape route, carefully planned for maximum efficiency.

  This?

  This was a disaster.

  The thunderous clatter of boots behind him meant the city guard was closing in. And at the head of it all—Silk Renna.

  She wasn’t running herself, of course. No, Silk never lowered herself to chase after anyone. She let her guards do the dirty work, sitting atop a sleek black horse, her expression calm, poised, and infuriatingly smug as she watched Finn try to outrun his fate.

  “Come now, Finnrick,” her voice rang out, smooth as polished steel. “Why must you make this so difficult?”

  Finn barely spared her a glance.

  Instead, he dove left, slipping between two market stalls, knocking over a crate of bright yellow pears in the process. The merchant shouted in outrage, but Finn was already vaulting over another cart, weaving through the late-night crowd.

  The streets were still buzzing with activity. Though the competition had ended in chaos, many nobles and merchants were still out enjoying the nightlife, discussing the scandal over goblets of spiced wine.

  Which meant Finn had plenty of obstacles to slow down his pursuers.

  But the guards weren’t stupid.

  They weren’t rookies, either.

  They didn’t slow down. Didn’t hesitate. They just adjusted their course, cutting through the crowd like a knife through butter.

  Finn gritted his teeth.

  Damn.

  They were good.

  Up ahead, the streets of Laudendale split into three paths—one leading toward the noble district, one toward the open market square, and the last toward the eastern gates.

  Finn needed to get to that last one.

  If he could get outside the city walls, he could get to the horses.

  But Silk had anticipated this.

  Because before Finn could make it past the open market, another squad of guards appeared, blocking his path.

  “Godsdamn it,” he hissed under his breath.

  Silk had sent scouts ahead. She was herding him like a rat in a maze.

  His heart pounded.

  This wasn’t a normal arrest. If she got her hands on him, he wouldn’t end up in a cell.

  He’d disappear. And he refused to let that happen.

  “Finn, duck!”

  The shout came from above.

  Finn reacted on instinct, throwing himself low to the ground just as something heavy came swinging over his head.

  Something—or rather, someone.

  Marla.

  She swung down from a hanging shop sign, both feet connecting with the nearest guard’s chest. The man hit the cobblestones with a loud, armor-clattering thud.

  Finn popped back up just in time to see Marla roll neatly onto her feet, grinning.

  “Miss me?” she asked.

  Finn didn’t hesitate.

  He grabbed her by the wrist and bolted.

  “You have the worst timing,” he grumbled.

  “Excuse me?” Marla scoffed, barely managing to keep up. “I just saved your sorry ass!”

  “Yes, and now you get to run for your life with me. Congratulations.”

  Marla shot a look over her shoulder.

  The guards were still coming.

  Silk was still following on horseback, directing them like a conductor at an orchestra.

  And Finn’s lungs were burning.

  They needed to get out. Now.

  The streets of Laudendale at night were different from during the day.

  There were fewer merchants, but the city still pulsed with life. Lanterns glowed in the hands of street vendors selling hot spiced nuts and roasted meats. Carriages carrying noblewomen in fine silk dresses clattered along the roads, their laughter trailing behind them.

  Finn and Marla wove through it all, dodging between carts, slipping into shadows where they could. But the city guard was unrelenting.

  No matter how fast they moved, they weren’t losing them.

  Then—ahead, at the next intersection—another squad of guards.

  Another dead end.

  Marla cursed. “Finn, if you don’t have a plan, I swear to the gods—”

  “Left,” Finn said quickly.

  “Left is a tavern.”

  “I know.”

  Marla shot him a look. “Finn.”

  “Just trust me.”

  They burst through the tavern doors, the smell of ale and smoke immediately wrapping around them.

  The place was packed.

  A roaring fire in the hearth. Dozens of patrons crowded at the bar, laughing, drinking, gambling. A bard played a lively tune on a lute, barely pausing as Finn and Marla shoved past him.

  Behind them, the guards followed.

  “Stop them!” one bellowed.

  Finn grabbed a nearby tankard from an unsuspecting drinker and hurled it.

  The cup smashed against a table, spilling ale everywhere.

  The drunk man turned with a furious scowl, fists already rising—just as the first guard barreled straight into him.

  That was all it took.

  One fist swung.

  Then another.

  And suddenly, the entire tavern erupted into chaos.

  Bar fights were a simple thing to start but harder to stop.

  Finn grabbed Marla’s wrist. “Out the back!”

  They darted through the kitchen, weaving past confused cooks, knocking over trays of steaming bread in their wake. The back door slammed open, leading them into a tight alleyway.

  Finally—the city gates were in sight.

  But they weren’t alone.

  Silk Renna was waiting.

  She was still seated on her horse, perfectly composed, watching them with cold amusement.

  “I must say,” she called as they slowed to a halt, catching their breath, “this has been rather entertaining.”

  Finn’s grip on his dagger tightened.

  Marla muttered under her breath. “She’s too calm.”

  Finn nodded. Which meant she still had a move to play.

  Silk tilted her head slightly. “Tell me, Finnrick, where exactly are you planning to go?”

  Finn didn’t answer.

  Because right at that moment, behind her, past the gates—he saw Grog.

  Waiting.

  Watching.

  Ready.

  Silk sighed. “You’ve made a mess of things, haven’t you?”

  Finn grinned. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  Silk raised a single gloved hand. The guards behind her stepped forward, weapons drawn.

  Marla tensed beside him. “Well?” she muttered. “What’s the plan?”

  Finn took a slow breath.

  Then he smiled.

  “We ride.”

  And before Silk could give the order to seize them—they bolted.

  #

  The road stretched before them, endless and treacherous.

  Finn’s horse thundered forward, hooves kicking up loose dirt and gravel, his heart pounding in time with the frantic rhythm of the chase. Behind him, Silk Renna and her guards had not relented. They pursued them through the city, through the outskirts, and now into the rugged wilderness beyond.

  Hours had passed.

  But they were still coming.

  The night had deepened, and the last remnants of twilight had faded into a starless black sky. A cold wind howled through the trees, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. The terrain had shifted from rolling farmlands to jagged hills, their path winding through thick forests and steep ravines.

  Finn risked a glance back.

  The torches of Silk’s riders bobbled like fireflies in the darkness, flickering between the trees. They were still gaining ground, their horses bred for long endurance chases.

  Finn gritted his teeth.

  This had to end soon.

  His plan was risky. Reckless, even.

  But at this point?

  It was their only shot.

  Marla rode beside him, her hands tight on the reins, her face grim. “We can’t keep this up, Finn,” she shouted over the wind. “The horses won’t last much longer.”

  “I know,” Finn called back.

  Grog, slightly behind them, rumbled, “How far?”

  Finn turned his eyes to the horizon. In the far distance, barely visible beyond the rocky slopes and dense treetops, the mouth of the dragon’s den loomed like a waiting beast.

  “Not far,” he said. “Another hour, maybe less.”

  Marla swore under her breath. “We won’t make it that long.”

  Finn didn’t respond. He knew she was probably right. Their horses were strong, but exhausted. The rugged terrain was slowing them down. The only advantage they had was that Silk’s riders were just as tired, or at least almost.

  But the woman herself?

  She was still poised, still patient.

  Finn knew why.

  She wasn’t worried.

  Because as long as she had the numbers, she had the advantage.

  She wasn’t just chasing him to capture him.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  She was playing with her food.

  And Finn hated being played with.

  The forest began to thin. The land sloped upward, the trees giving way to rocky cliffs and narrow ridges. They were moving into dragon country now.

  Finn could feel it.

  The air was colder.

  Still.

  Like even the wind was holding its breath.

  They were getting close.

  But so was Silk.

  A sharp whistle cut through the air.

  Finn looked back—just in time to see one of Silk’s riders nock an arrow and let it fly.

  He barely had time to react.

  The arrow whizzed past his shoulder, missing by mere inches.

  Marla twisted in her saddle, cursing. “They’re taking shots at us now? Great!”

  Another arrow flew.

  This one hit the ground beside Finn’s horse, sending the beast into a frantic sidestep. He barely kept control, pulling the reins tight.

  Silk’s voice rang out from the darkness.

  “Give it up, Finnrick!” she called, her tone infuriatingly calm. “This ends one of two ways. Either you surrender now, or I drag you back in chains!”

  Finn’s mind whirled.

  He couldn’t let them catch him. Couldn’t let Silk win.

  Not now.

  Not after everything.

  So, instead of answering—he kicked his horse forward.

  The trail narrowed.

  The cliffs loomed high on either side, forcing them into a tight, winding passage. Finn knew this path well. It was the same one he had followed years ago, when a younger, more foolish version of himself had climbed these cliffs in search of a dragon egg.

  The memory made his stomach twist.

  Now, he wasn’t running toward treasure.

  He was running toward survival.

  The terrain grew rougher. The horses struggled against loose stone and jagged paths. Ahead, Finn could see the silhouettes of rock formations, marking the final ascent toward the dragon’s den.

  Almost there.

  Almost…

  Marla gasped. “They’re closing in!”

  Finn stole another glance backward—and his stomach sank.

  Silk’s riders were pushing their horses harder, closing the distance.

  One of the guards raised a crossbow.

  Finn barely had time to react.

  A sharp snap rang through the air—something whistled past his ear—then pain blossomed across his upper arm.

  He sucked in a sharp breath, biting back a curse. The bolt had grazed him—just a shallow wound, but enough to rattle him.

  Marla’s eyes widened. “Finn!”

  “I’m fine,” he lied.

  She didn’t believe him.

  But she didn’t argue.

  They didn’t have time.

  The ground sloped upward sharply, forcing the horses into a steep climb. Loose rock crumbled beneath their hooves.

  Finn could hear the roar of the waterfall now, just beyond the final bend.

  A deafening shout echoed behind them.

  Finn didn’t dare look.

  But he heard it.

  Silk’s voice, smooth as ever.

  "End this."

  The guards spurred their horses forward, weapons raised.

  Finn saw the cave mouth ahead.

  The same cavern he had stumbled into all those years ago.

  He pulled his reins hard, forcing his horse toward the entrance. “Marla, Grog—get inside, now!”

  They didn’t hesitate.

  The moment Finn crossed the threshold, he swung himself off the saddle, landing roughly on the stone floor. Marla and Grog followed suit, backing toward the darkness.

  The roar of the waterfall filled his ears.

  The air was cold, damp.

  And deeper inside the cave, he could see her.

  Still bound in iron shackles.

  Still barely awake.

  Vraska.

  She lifted her head slightly, eyes gleaming in the darkness.

  A slow, weak smile crossed her lips.

  “…Tumblepot.”

  Finn didn’t answer.

  Because at that moment—Silk’s riders charged into the cavern.

  The roar of the waterfall echoed through the cavern, damp air curling around Finn’s skin as he steadied his breath. The moonlight barely reached inside, casting the jagged rock walls in long, shifting shadows.

  He didn’t have time to appreciate any of it.

  Because Silk’s riders were here.

  Four of them. Blades drawn, eyes burning with ruthless intent. Their armor clanked as they dismounted, boots crunching against the cave’s uneven stone floor.

  Finn stood near the entrance, his back to the cavern’s dark depths. He could feel Marla and Grog shifting into position behind him, ready but tense.

  And deeper still—Vraska.

  She was still chained against the rock wall, her form barely visible in the dim light. But her eyes…

  They glowed.

  Even in her weakened state, there was hatred in them. Hatred and something else.

  Amusement.

  Like she was waiting to see how Finn planned to weasel his way out of this one.

  Silk Renna was the last to enter.

  She dismounted her horse with practiced ease, her dark blue robes untouched by the long ride, her golden cuffs gleaming even in the shadows. She didn’t look tired. Didn’t look winded.

  She looked bored.

  Like this was a business meeting, and Finn had been late to arrive.

  “Finnrick,” she said, smoothing her gloves. “You are terribly predictable.”

  Finn kept his expression blank. “And yet, you still look surprised.”

  Silk gave a small, elegant laugh. “Oh, not at all.” She took a few slow steps forward, hands still clasped behind her back. “You’ve always had a talent for leading people into a trap. The problem, my dear, is that you’re inside it too.”

  Finn didn’t flinch.

  Instead, he tilted his head slightly.

  And then, slowly, deliberately, he smiled.

  “Am I?”

  Silk’s expression flickered.

  It was subtle—so quick that most people wouldn’t have noticed. But Finn had spent years reading liars.

  She wasn’t as in control of the situation as she wanted to be.

  Good.

  That was the first crack.

  Now, he just had to widen it.

  The guards behind Silk advanced a step, shifting into a wider stance. Their grips on their weapons tightened.

  Finn could feel the tension in the air. One wrong word, one wrong move, and they’d cut him down.

  But then—one of them hesitated.

  Because he saw her.

  The figure chained in the back of the cave.

  “…Wait a second,” the guard muttered, squinting in the dim light. His eyes widened slightly.

  One of the others frowned. “What is it?”

  The first guard turned to his companions. “She looks—” His voice dropped lower. “She looks familiar.”

  Finn’s smirk widened.

  Silk’s head snapped toward the guard, her jaw tightening. “Eyes on your target.”

  But it was too late.

  Curiosity had already taken root.

  The first guard took a hesitant step closer, his eyes fixing on Vraska. “She—” He swallowed. “Gods, she looks like—”

  His breath caught.

  Finn could see it happen in real-time. The realization.

  The flicker of recognition.

  And then—the guard’s entire body went rigid.

  His face paled. His hand trembled slightly on his sword hilt.

  “Captain,” he said, voice tight. “That—that’s Vraska Tethershaw.”

  The words echoed.

  And everything shifted.

  One of the other guards let out a low, nervous curse. A third took a step back.

  Even Silk’s expression finally cracked.

  For the first time since this entire chase began—she looked genuinely caught off guard.

  Vraska chuckled weakly. It was a slow, dry sound, like a rusted blade being dragged across stone.

  “…Took you long enough,” she rasped.

  One of the guards stared in horror. “That’s impossible.”

  “She’s supposed to be in hiding,” another breathed. “The city’s been searching for her for—”

  “Years,” Finn finished helpfully. He crossed his arms. “And here she is. Just waiting for someone to claim the bounty.”

  The lead guard turned back toward Silk.

  “…Did you know about this?”

  Silk’s expression had gone cold. Her mind was working fast, but Finn could see the moment she realized—she was losing control of the situation.

  The guards were supposed to be focused on Finn.

  On capturing him.

  Now?

  Their target had shifted.

  Because Vraska was worth far more than Finnrick Tumblepot.

  A high-profile crime lord. Wanted for murder, smuggling, blackmail, conspiracy.

  Bringing her in wouldn’t just earn a reward.

  It would earn a promotion.

  A seat at the king’s own table.

  Finn leaned against the cave wall, watching as the guards began whispering amongst themselves.

  “You know,” he mused, “I can’t imagine the king would be too pleased to hear that you found Vraska Tethershaw in a cave—and let her go because you were too busy chasing down an ex-thief turned tavern owner.”

  Silk’s gaze snapped to him.

  If looks could kill, he’d be a pile of ash.

  But it was too late.

  The guards had already made their decision.

  The lead guard squared his shoulders. His voice was clipped, controlled.

  “Secure the prisoner,” he ordered.

  His men moved.

  Vraska’s smirk vanished.

  “No,” Silk said sharply.

  The lead guard turned toward her, his expression unreadable. “Excuse me, Lady Renna?”

  Silk took a step forward, her fingers twitching at her side. “Vraska Tethershaw is not your concern.”

  The guard didn’t flinch. “She is now.”

  Silk’s eyes burned with fury. “You forget your orders.”

  The lead guard met her gaze without hesitation.

  “My orders were to capture a fugitive.” He tilted his head. “And I’d say I just found one worth far more.”

  Finn almost felt bad for her.

  Almost.

  Silk’s jaw clenched.

  Finn could see it in her stance—the calculations. She was deciding whether to press the issue. Whether she could still bend them to her will.

  But for the first time, she had lost.

  And she knew it.

  Silk took a slow breath, smoothing her expression.

  Then—without another word—she turned on her heel and walked toward the cave entrance.

  “Take her, then,” she said flatly.

  The guards exchanged glances.

  Finn frowned.

  Silk was giving up too easily.

  And then—she ran.

  It happened in a blink.

  One moment she was calm, composed. The next?

  She was sprinting toward the cave entrance.

  Finn reacted too late.

  But Grog didn’t.

  Silk had barely made it ten paces before a massive fist collided with the side of her skull.

  The force sent her sprawling.

  Finn winced. “Oof.”

  Grog grunted. “She runs fast.”

  Marla smirked. “Not fast enough.”

  Grog bent down, rummaging through Silk’s cloak. He pulled out something small, leather-bound.

  Finn’s ledger.

  Grog straightened, holding it at chest level, keeping it out of the view of the busy guards.

  Then—without hesitation—he tore it in half.

  The pages ripped clean down the middle.

  Finn exhaled.

  It was done.

  Silk wasn’t moving.

  The guards secured Vraska’s barely conscious body.

  It was over.

  Almost.

  Because just as Grog stepped away—Silk’s eyes snapped open.

  And before anyone could react—she ran, got on a horse, and left.

  This time, no one stopped her.

  Finn could only watch as she disappeared into the night.

  Escaped.

  For now.

  The air inside the cave hung heavy, thick with dampness and tension. The only sounds were the low murmurs of the guards securing Vraska’s unconscious form and the distant roar of the waterfall beyond the cavern entrance.

  Finn rolled his shoulders, the exhaustion of the chase finally sinking in. He should have felt relief. Vraska was being taken back to Laudendale in chains, his ledger was destroyed, and Silk Renna had been forced to flee with nothing to show for it.

  And yet—something still gnawed at him.

  Silk had gotten away.

  And that meant she wasn’t finished with him yet.

  Not by a long shot.

  The lead guard, a tall, square-jawed man named Captain Ivers, finished securing the shackles around Vraska’s wrists before turning to Finn.

  His gaze was sharp, unreadable.

  “So,” Ivers said slowly. “You’re telling me you set this whole thing up?”

  Finn nodded. “That’s right.”

  Ivers raised a brow. “You lured us here?”

  Finn crossed his arms. “Would you rather I left her for someone else to find?”

  The other guards exchanged glances.

  Ivers let out a long breath, running a hand down his face. “Gods, this is going to be a mess.”

  Finn offered a casual shrug. “I imagine hauling in one of the most wanted criminals in the kingdom will smooth that over, don’t you?”

  One of the younger guards muttered, “He’s got a point.”

  Ivers shot him a look, then turned back to Finn. “I don’t trust you.”

  “Mutual,” Finn said easily.

  Ivers’ jaw tightened. “You’re a criminal.”

  Finn tilted his head. “Was. And yet, here we are. Me helping you catch someone far worse.”

  Ivers narrowed his eyes.

  Finn held his ground.

  This was the moment. The final play.

  The captain could still decide to drag him and his friends back to Laudendale, put them in a cell, and let some bureaucrat decide their fates.

  Or—he could accept the victory Finn had just handed him.

  Ivers inhaled deeply, then let it out through his nose. “You tell me, then. Why would a man like you go through all this trouble to give us Vraska?”

  Finn’s smirk faded.

  For a moment, he didn’t answer.

  Then—quieter, more serious than before—he said, “Because I’m done with that life. Hells, I’ve been done with it for years now.”

  Silence.

  The only sound was the drip of water from the cavern ceiling.

  Ivers studied him. Weighing the truth in his words.

  Then, finally—he nodded.

  “I don’t like loose ends,” Ivers said. “But I also don’t like ignoring results.”

  Finn didn’t move.

  The captain exhaled slowly. “You walk away from this, Tumblepot, and we forget about you.”

  Finn raised a brow. “Just like that?”

  Ivers gritted his teeth. “Just like that.”

  Finn didn’t push his luck.

  He extended a hand.

  Ivers glanced at it.

  Then, with a reluctant sigh, he took it.

  A deal.

  A truce.

  The moment Finn let go, Ivers turned to his men. “We march for Laudendale,” he said. “Secure the prisoner. We ride out immediately.”

  The guards nodded, moving to follow orders.

  Vraska, still barely conscious, let out a low, bitter laugh.

  Finn looked down at her, their gazes meeting one last time.

  “You’ve always been a coward, Tumblepot,” she rasped. “Always looking for a way to squirm free.”

  Finn crouched beside her, his voice low and steady.

  “You’re not wrong,” he murmured. “But you made one mistake.”

  Vraska smirked weakly. “Oh? And what’s that?”

  Finn smiled.

  “You underestimated how far I’d go to stay free.”

  Vraska’s smirk faded.

  And Finn stood.

  Marla and Grog were waiting near the entrance of the cave, their horses already prepped for travel. The long chase, the sleepless night, the fight for their lives—it was all finally over.

  And now?

  Now, it was time to go home.

  Finn took his reins, glancing at Marla. “You still in one piece?”

  Marla stretched dramatically. “Ask me again after I sleep for a week.”

  Grog climbed into his saddle with a grunt. “We leave now?”

  Finn nodded. “We leave now.”

  They turned their horses toward the winding mountain pass, the first hints of dawn peeking over the horizon.

  The air was cool, crisp, carrying the scent of damp stone and distant pine.

  Puddlebrook was waiting.

  And for the first time in a long, long while—Finn Tumblepot was finally free.