Page 101 of The Naga Lord's Pretty Little Mouse

I clench my jaw, pressing trembling fingers into the folds of my cloak.

He cannot find me.

A soldier strides toward the carriage.

The door creaks open.

The moment his fingers wrap around my arm, I strike.

My knee slams into his gut, his breath hitching as he stumbles back. His grip tightens, but I wrench free, fingers snatching the short blade from his belt.

Steel sings as I drive it deep into his side.

A strangled grunt escapes him before I rip the blade free, warmth spilling over my fingers as he collapses.

Chaos erupts.

Shouts, steel unsheathing, bodies lunging.

I run.

Boots thunder behind me,the sharp commands of soldiers splitting the night.

The world shrinks to the ground beneath my feet, the frantic race between me and the inevitable.

But I don’t get far.

Jalith’s voice slices through the noise, amused, indulgent.

"Let her run."

The soldiers slow.

I don’t.

Wind lashes against my face, the scent of damp earth and crushed leaves filling my senses.

The road vanishes behind me, the terrain shifting. The land slopes downward, uneven and treacherous.

Ahead, the trees break apart.

An ending.

A cliff looms, jagged rock giving way to nothingness. The sky stretches beyond it, black and endless, as if the world itself simply stops.

A predator’s trap.

Behind me, footsteps close in.

Jalith’s voice follows, calm, inevitable.

"You always were a fighter."

I whip around, blade raised, breath heaving but he’s already too close.

His smirk deepens, a king admiring his conquered prize.

"There’s no need for this,"Jalith says smoothly. "Come to me willingly, and I will be merciful."

---