“I saw the hallway they took us down,” Kazou said quietly. “There’s at least one camera at the entrance, near the dining room. But the hallway we came through? I didn’t see any.”

  Natalie sat forward. “So if we could find a way back out through that corridor—”

  “We might avoid being seen,” he finished.

  She was already thinking ahead. “There’s a staircase at the end of the corridor. I saw it. Narrow, steep. Maybe servants used it.”

  Kazou narrowed his eyes in thought. “Leads down, or up?”

  “Down. Toward the foundation, I think.”

  Kazou rubbed his chin. “Underground tunnels?”

  “It’s an old fortress,” she said. “There has to be something.”

  Kazou stood slowly and walked to the door, resting a hand on the heavy iron latch. It was bolted from the outside, of course.

  However, the walls weren’t solid throughout. Some of them, especially the part behind the wardrobe, had hollow acoustics.

  “I’ll knock around once everyone’s asleep,” he said. “See if there’s anything hidden. Weak points. You stay alert for footsteps or keys.”

  Natalie got to her feet, legs stiff.

  She paused.

  Then — “Kuroda.”

  He turned.

  “…Thank you. For not giving up on me.”

  Kazou’s expression didn’t change much, but something in his posture softened.

  “You didn’t give up either,” he said.

  She looked at him, and for the first time since they’d been dragged to this place, her eyes didn’t look haunted.

  They looked sharp. Ready.

  Outside, the castle groaned in the wind.

  Inside, two people began planning.

  Natalie sat on the edge of the narrow bed, arms wrapped around her knees. Her hair hung loosely over her face, shadowing her expression. Kazou stood by the wall, watching the single narrow window. It was high and old, the frame crooked and half-choked by ivy that had crept through the stone's cracks over decades. The moonlight filtered through it in cold slivers.

  “I think it’s unguarded,” Kazou said quietly.

  Natalie looked up, her voice barely audible. “You really think we can get out through there?”

  “I think it’s our only chance,” he replied. “If we wait for Casimir to show up, we don’t know what he’ll want. Or what he'll do.”

  She didn’t answer at first. She stared at the floor like it had betrayed her.

  Kazou turned to her. “Natalie.”

  She lifted her head.

  “You were right to be afraid.”

  Natalie stood. She moved toward the window, her expression uncertain, vulnerable in a way that made Kazou instinctively look away to give her privacy.

  “I can’t believe I dragged you into this,” she said finally. “I should have thrown those letters out. I should’ve just ignored the address, all of it.” Her voice caught. “If I hadn’t gone to the taxi stand… if I hadn’t taken that taxi—”

  “You weren’t the one driving it,” Kazou interrupted, gently.

  She shook her head. “But I got in.”

  Kazou said nothing. He furrowed his eyebrows in concern.

  Her voice cracked. “I don’t even know who Sasha is. I don’t know why he keeps calling me that. But every time I hear that name… it feels like something inside me is screaming.” She swallowed. “And I’m scared of what it means.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Kazou stepped forward, his voice quiet. “So am I.”

  They looked at each other for a long moment. Then Natalie exhaled and walked to the wall beneath the window, pressing her palm against the icy stone.

  “How are we going to reach it?”

  Kazou scanned the room. A wooden chair. A dresser. A rusted radiator. He looked back at Natalie. “We build a step. You go first. I’ll lift you.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll find my way.”

  Natalie didn’t argue. She pulled the chair into place while Kazou stacked the broken frame of the old cot against the wall. It wasn’t graceful, but it gave just enough height for her to reach the lower edge of the window.

  He laced his fingers together. “Foot here.”

  Natalie placed her boot in his hands, and he hoisted her upward. She gripped the sill and pulled herself up, struggling to wedge her shoulders through. The ivy tore at her coat.

  “Go slow,” Kazou whispered. "Quietly."

  She twisted and angled her body until her hips squeezed past the stones, then paused, dangling half in and half out.

  “Kuroda—”

  “Go,” he said. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  Natalie slipped out. A moment later, he heard the soft thump of her landing below.

  Kazou backed up, took the chair, and placed it over the splintered wood frame. He climbed unsteadily, the whole structure groaning under his weight. It swayed. He reached up, gripped the sill, and hauled himself up.

  Pain burned through his shoulder — the same one still sore from the fight earlier.

  He gritted his teeth and pushed through it.

  The window scraped against his ribs as he forced himself through. The drop wasn’t far — maybe eight or nine feet to a patch of dead grass.

  He landed in a crouch, pain jarring his knees. Natalie reached for him instantly, helping him steady.

  They stood side by side under the wall’s shadow, backs pressed against stone.

  No alarms. No shouts. No lights.

  Yet.

  Natalie looked at him, her voice barely audible. “Where do we go?”

  Kazou glanced around. Beyond the hill, the forest stretched like a black sea, broken only by the faint glimmer of lights scattered from homes, and the moonlight reflecting onto the river.

  “There,” he said. “The treeline. If we can make it there, we can stay hidden until morning.”

  Natalie nodded.

  They didn’t run. Not yet. They walked quickly but quietly, sticking to the edge of the stone wall. Past the kitchen vent. Past a locked cellar door. The ground beneath their feet was rough, uneven, but dry. The castle loomed behind them, silent. When they reached the slope leading down into the town, Natalie paused and looked back.

  Kazou didn’t.

  "Come on,” he said.

  For a brief moment, there was only silence — the creaking of the branches above, the hush of wind rolling over the highland grass.

  And then—

  Shouts.

  Boots. Fast, coordinated.

  Natalie jerked her head toward the sound. Kazou turned sharply — and there, back near the castle gate, came the figures.

  At least five men. Maybe more. All dressed in black coats. Some carried flashlights that sliced through the dark, others raised weapons. At the head was him — Anders. His slick hair was tousled now, his long legs pumping forward as he bellowed:

  “There! THEY'RE OUTSIDE! On the grounds!”

  Kazou’s blood turned cold. “Move.”

  The two didn’t hesitate. Kazou grabbed Natalie’s wrist, and the two of them ran, shoes slamming against frost-hardened dirt.

  Down the slope.

  Across the gravel path.

  Toward the bridge.

  Shouts echoed behind them. A gunshot cracked — then another. A bullet struck the stone near Natalie’s shoulder, chipping off dust and rock. She gasped but didn’t stop.

  “Faster!” Kazou snapped.

  They sprinted onto the bridge — an old, arched structure of stone and wrought iron railings. Below, the river flowed dark and cold, its surface broken only by moonlight and occasional sprays of white foam.

  “Where are we—?” Natalie gasped between breaths. “They’re gaining!”

  Kazou looked back. The guards were already halfway down the path. Anders raised his pistol again.

  Kazou swore under his breath. The bridge’s far end was still too far.

  He pulled Natalie hard toward the edge. They skidded to a stop by the old railing. Beneath them, the river churned.

  Kazou looked at her, heart pounding in his ears. “Can you swim?”

  Natalie blinked at him. “Uh—what?! Yeah? Really well? Why—?”

  “Sorry,” Kazou said.

  And then he shoved her.

  Natalie yelped — “KURODA!” — as her body sailed over the side and vanished into the dark below.

  Kazou didn't wait.

  He climbed the railing and dove headfirst, arms tight to his sides, into the river after her.

  The water hit like a wall of ice. It crushed the air out of his lungs, swallowed his ears in deafness, dragged him into its freezing grip.

  He kicked hard, eyes squinting open through the murk.

  A shape to his right — Natalie — hair streaming like kelp, mouth tight with shock, but swimming. She was okay.

  They both surfaced under the bridge a moment later, gasping and sputtering, treading water in silence.

  Above them, boots scraped against the bridge’s stone. Voices shouted in Polish.

  “Did you see them fall?”

  “Where did they go?!”

  Anders’ voice rang sharp. “They jumped! But no sign on them... Idiots—check the banks! Find the bodies! Casimir will be so mad!"

  Kazou grabbed the slippery edge of one of the bridge’s stone supports and pulled himself into the shadow beneath the arch.

  Natalie followed, silent now, panting.

  They pressed their backs to the wet stone, breath held.

  Above, the guards scanned the water with flashlights.

  Nothing.

  They didn’t look down far enough.

  A minute passed.

  Two.

  A light shone above their heads, sweeping across the surface — and then turned away.

  Then footsteps receded.

  Anders shouted: “They’re probably dead in the current. Let the river take them... What a shame... Let's tell Casimir it was that cab driver."

  The bridge creaked under retreating steps.

  Stillness returned.

  Only then did Kazou breathe again.

  Natalie clung to the stone edge beside him, shivering.

  “You pushed me,” she said flatly, voice low and tight.

  “I asked if you could swim,” Kazou replied.

  She wiped water from her eyes. “Still. You pushed me.”

  Kazou looked at her, really looked, soaked hair, water dripping from her chin, pale lips — and gave a small, hoarse laugh.

  “I saved your life.”

  Natalie rolled her eyes and whispered, “Let’s never do that again.”

  Kazou nodded.

  They waited a few minutes more, letting the silence settle. Then, quietly, they began swimming again, under the arch and downriver, hidden from sight.

  The fortress faded behind them. The trees grew thicker.

  And for the first time that night, they had truly escaped.