They didn't win the alley.
They survived it.
Mireya ran with her mask still on, breath stolen tight in her Silence so it wouldn't give her away. Stellan was at her shoulder—heavy steps forced light, like his body was fighting him.
Behind them, Bram's whistle cut the air.
Then the hound's growl.
Then nothing—because Mireya crushed the sound down before it could reach the street.
It helped.
Not enough.
The hound didn't need noise to chase. It needed trail. Heat. Scent. Wrong rhythm.
Stellan's Pulse-sight flickered up in flashes as they turned corners.
"Left," he muttered once.
Mireya didn't ask how he knew. She just moved.
Tess's directions had been quick and nasty: Old river. West cut. Quiet Bridge. Don't stop.
Mireya understood why when she saw it.
The bridge was old stone, arched over river-black water. The railings were carved with faded ward marks—worn down by years and palms and weather. Someone had hung cheap charms from the posts, as if begging it to stay asleep.
It looked harmless.
It wasn't.
Mireya stepped onto the first slab.
And the world dropped.
Sound didn't fade.
It vanished.
Street noise—gone. Breath—gone. The soft slap of boots on stone—gone. Even the river below… silent.
Mireya's shoulders loosened on instinct.
Home field.
Then Stellan stumbled like he'd been punched.
He grabbed the railing hard enough to rattle it—
Except it didn't rattle.
Because nothing made noise here.
His eyes went wide. His mouth opened.
No sound came out.
Mireya caught the look on his face and felt the bond flare—panic as pressure, sharp behind her eyes.
Because he didn't just lose the world's sound.
He lost it twice.
He heard through her.
And she was standing inside a curse built to swallow sound whole.
Stellan's chest rose too fast. Too shallow. He looked like he was drowning on dry stone.
Mireya tightened her Silence reflexively—then realized it was pointless.
The bridge was already doing her job better than she ever could.
She stepped closer, just close enough that the bond tugged and made her stomach dip.
"Breathe," she mouthed.
He didn't hear it.
But he read her lips.
Stellan swallowed. Forced himself to inhale slow.
One.
Two.
His shoulders dropped a fraction.
Good.
Mireya turned her head toward the far end of the bridge.
A narrow lane beyond. Dark rooftops. A way out.
She lifted two fingers and tapped Stellan's wrist—hard, clear.
Stop.
Then one tap forward.
Move.
He stared at her hand on his wrist, then at her face.
A tiny nod.
He understood.
They started across.
No footfalls. No wind. No water.
Only the feeling of motion.
Mireya's body relaxed into the quiet. Too much. It made her careless.
A vibration shivered under her soles.
Not from her step.
From below.
Stellan froze, sudden.
His Pulse-sight snapped up. His expression sharpened in the dim light like he'd found a wound on the world.
Mireya followed his gaze instinctively.
The river was black glass.
Then something broke the surface.
Not a splash.
No sound.
Just water bulging, parting, as a shape rose under the bridge's shadow.
Long limbs. Too many joints. Skin like wet stone.
A Hollowbeast.
It didn't look at them like an animal.
It felt… curious.
Mireya's stomach clenched.
Stellan's jaw went tight.
"It hunts by vibration," he mouthed.
Mireya read it and felt cold settle in her ribs.
Of course it did.
Sound was gone, but movement still traveled through stone. Through water. Through bone.
The beast's head tilted.
As if listening with its body.
Mireya lifted her hand and flattened it.
Slow.
Stellan nodded once.
They moved again, careful now. Steps placed like they were walking on glass.
Another vibration rolled through the bridge.
The Hollowbeast's body shifted under the water, tracking it like a needle finding north.
Mireya's pulse sped up—and she felt it reflected back through the bond.
Stellan heard it.
Not as sound.
As a presence in his skull.
Her heartbeat.
Fast. Confessing.
Stellan's eyes flicked to her. A quick, steady look that said I know.
Mireya hated that the bond made her body honest.
She tapped his wrist twice.
Stay with me.
Stellan's hand hovered—then touched her forearm. Barely. A grounding contact.
Mireya's skin lit up where he touched, not from romance—จาก shock. From how rare touch was when you didn't trust anyone.
The bond surged anyway.
Heat. Nausea. A sharp taste of iron at the back of Stellan's tongue—her throat wound, reacting to stress.
Stellan's face tightened. He swallowed it down.
The Hollowbeast rose higher, claws hooking the stone edge. Water slid off it in sheets. Still no sound. Just motion.
It pulled itself onto the bridge underside like it weighed nothing.
Mireya's eyes widened.
Stellan's Pulse-sight went rigid. He could see its rhythm—or the lack of one. The wrongness.
He mouthed, Don't run.
Mireya didn't argue. Running meant vibration. Vibration meant death.
They kept moving, inch by inch.
The beast crawled under them, matching their pace.
Mireya could feel it through the soles of her boots. Tiny tremors. A living echo.
Stellan's ribs flared—old injury spiking. Mireya felt the pain hit her bones like lightning, sudden and bright.
She bit down hard to keep her face calm.
Stellan's breath hitched.
Mireya saw his knees soften for half a beat.
Not weakness.
Body screaming.
The Hollowbeast paused.
Its head angled up, as if the stutter in Stellan's step had rung a bell through the stone.
Mireya's mind went sharp.
She reached out and caught Stellan's wrist.
Not a full grip.
Just enough pressure to keep him steady.
His eyes snapped to her hand.
Her bare fingers on his skin.
A line crossed his face—surprise first, then something quieter. Something that didn't belong in a hunt.
The bond made it worse.
Stellan heard her heartbeat spike.
Mireya tasted it through him too—warmth, salt, the edge of want that she refused to name.
She let go immediately.
Too much. Too fast. Too dangerous.
Stellan's jaw tightened like he'd swallowed the same thought.
Mireya tapped his wrist again.
Move.
Now.
They shifted together—near-touch, shoulder to shoulder, steps placed in sync so their vibration became one pattern instead of two.
Stellan led by Pulse.
Mireya guided with stillness.
The Hollowbeast followed the pattern, confused for half a second—its body reading the bridge like a map that kept changing.
Half a second was enough.
They reached the final third of the span.
The far end's stone posts rose like teeth.
Mireya's lungs burned from holding too much control. Stellan's ribs burned from holding too much pain.
The beast surged.
It didn't roar.
It didn't hiss.
It moved—a sudden rush underfoot, vibration slamming through the stone.
Mireya's vision doubled. Her stomach lurched.
Stellan's face went pale.
He mouthed one word.
Jump.
Mireya didn't hesitate.
They stepped—together—off the last slab and onto the far bank's packed earth.
The bridge curse let go at the boundary like a snapped thread.
Sound slammed back into the world.
Wind. River rush. Distant city noise. Their own harsh breathing.
Stellan sucked in air like he'd been underwater.
Mireya's knees almost buckled from the sudden return of sensation.
Behind them, the Hollowbeast rose higher at the bridge edge—
Then stopped.
It tilted its head, sensing the difference. The earth didn't carry the same clean vibrations. The curse line disrupted its read.
It hesitated.
Mireya didn't wait to see if it learned.
"Go," she rasped.
Stellan nodded once and pulled her into the shadow of the buildings.
They didn't stop until the river was behind them and the bridge was only a dark arch in the distance.
Only then did Mireya lean on a wall and force her breathing down.
Stellan pressed a hand to his ribs, jaw clenched. Mireya felt the pain pulse again—lightning in her bones.
"You okay?" he asked, voice rough.
Mireya wiped at her throat, found fresh dampness, and didn't answer the question he'd meant.
"You heard my heart," she said instead.
Stellan's eyes flicked away. "Yeah."
"Don't," Mireya warned.
He exhaled. "I didn't do anything with it."
"Try," she shot back.
Stellan's mouth twitched once. "I am."
Mireya pushed off the wall and walked to the river's edge where the water widened into a black, slow sheet.
The surface reflected the sky like bruised glass.
She stared down.
Her reflection stared back.
Blank mask gone now. Her own face. Blood-dark line across her throat.
And her eyes—
Not hers.
Pupils too narrow.
Iris too bright.
Beast eyes staring out from her face like they belonged there.
Mireya didn't breathe.
The reflection blinked.
Slow.
Hungry.