Dont forget to Vote and Review if you like story...
your comment make me motivate posting here
read full story in patreon : CaveLeather
"Coming out, coming out!"
Four pairs of eyes were locked on the carriage pulling away from the Hall of Order across the street.
A low, excited voice broke the silence.
The speaker was a woman in her early twenties with big, bright eyes and warm bronze skin. She was crouched behind a broken wooden crate, half her head sticking out like a cat that had just spotted prey.
If Corleone had seen her, he would've recognized her immediately as the loud Dornish woman who'd called herself Trene.
Her real name was Tyene Sand.
One of Oberyn Martell's bastard daughters. The third of the Sand Snakes.
"I see him, keep your voice down," another woman muttered, reaching over to push Tyene's head back down. Her tone carried a trace of exasperation.
This one was a few years older than Tyene. Sharper features, calmer presence, but the same dangerous glint in her eyes.
Obara Sand. The eldest of the Sand Snakes.
She had wanted to come to King's Landing alone, but Tyene had dragged her two younger sisters along, insisting the Sand Snakes had to move together. Obara had eventually given in.
"That guy just came out of the Hall of Order," Tyene whispered, still buzzing with excitement. "Look how expensive his clothes are. He's definitely high up in the Black Hand!"
"We've been sitting on this street for days," she added. "This is the first real lead we've gotten."
A third voice, softer and more elegant, spoke from where she leaned against the wall. "He's getting into the carriage. Looks like someone important. Men like that don't walk."
Nymeria Sand. The second eldest. She twirled a dagger between her fingers, the blade catching the fading light.
"What do we do?" asked the youngest, a girl around twenty with rounder features and a curious, almost innocent look. Sarella Sand, the fourth.
"We grab him, obviously," Tyene said, already brushing dust off her clothes and standing up. "We snatch him first and ask questions later."
"Grab him?" Obara yanked her back down. "This is Flea Bottom. Half the people on this street work for Vito Corleone. If we get caught, we'll never find Father."
"Then we do it quietly," Tyene insisted.
"Quietly? In broad daylight?" Obara shot back.
"I heard Corleone keeps a Dothraki around who eats people's hearts every week," Sarella added helpfully.
"I'm not scared," Tyene said. "I've got poison on every blade I own. Let him come."
Obara rubbed her temples. "If we get caught, who's going to rescue Father? Who's going to make them pay?"
The four women kept arguing in low, urgent voices until Obara finally snapped.
"Everyone shut up."
She stood up, watching the carriage turn the corner and disappear from view. If they didn't move now, they'd lose him.
Tyene looked at her expectantly. "Well?"
Obara exhaled through her nose.
"Grab him."
The carriage rolled through the late afternoon streets, wheels rumbling over the cobblestones. Inside, Nahor Demitris leaned back against the cushions with his eyes half-closed, humming a cheerful Braavosi tune under his breath.
He was in a much better mood than when he'd left the Hall of Order. The meeting with Corleone had been irritating, but the possibilities… the possibilities were interesting. Five hundred thousand more gold dragons on the table. A bigger loan meant bigger opportunities for someone like him.
He was already thinking about which brothel on the Street of Silk he'd visit tonight.
The carriage turned onto a quieter side street. Nahor was still humming when it suddenly lurched to a stop.
He jerked forward. "What the hell is going on?"
The driver's nervous voice came from outside. "My lord, there's a woman… she fell in the road."
Nahor yanked the curtain aside and stuck his head out. "Then move her! I don't have time for this shit!"
The driver climbed down and walked toward the woman lying on the ground. She was clutching her ankle, head bowed so her hair covered most of her face. When the driver got closer, she looked up.
Bronze skin. Striking features. Warm, intelligent eyes that made the driver forget what he was supposed to be doing.
"I… I think I twisted my ankle," she said softly. Her voice was gentle, almost melodic. "Could you help me?"
The driver swallowed hard.
Before he could answer, Nahor shoved the door open and jumped out himself.
"You useless bastard!" he barked at the driver, kicking him in the side. "How dare you make a lady like this wait on the ground!"
He turned to the woman with an oily smile, all arrogance gone in an instant. "Are you hurt, my lady? Here, let me help you up."
The woman — Nymeria Sand — took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. She leaned into him slightly, playing the part of a damsel in distress perfectly.
"Thank you," she murmured. "You're very kind."
Nahor puffed up like a rooster. "Of course! Everyone in Braavos knows Nahor Demitris is a gentleman."
He kept one arm around her waist as he guided her toward the carriage, already imagining how the rest of this encounter might go. The woman was stunning. And clearly from a good family, judging by the way she carried herself.
When they reached the carriage door, Nymeria stumbled again, forcing Nahor to steady her. While he was distracted, a shadow moved behind the driver.
A soft thunk.
The driver dropped without a sound, a dagger buried in the back of his skull.
Nahor didn't even have time to turn around before a hand clamped over his mouth and a voice whispered right next to his ear.
"Shhh…"
It was young. Playful. "Make a sound and you'll end up just like him."
Before he could struggle, something heavy cracked against the back of his head. His vision went black.
Tyene caught him as he slumped and hauled him into the carriage like he weighed nothing.
"Damn, he's heavy," she grunted.
"Stop complaining and move," Nymeria said, already climbing in after her.
Obara appeared from a side alley, dragging the dead driver's body with one hand like it was a sack of grain. She disappeared into another narrow lane for a few seconds, then emerged empty-handed.
Sarella was already in the driver's seat of their own, much older carriage parked nearby. She gave them a quick wave.
Obara climbed up beside her. Tyene and Nymeria took Nahor's carriage.
Two carriages pulled away from the quiet street and merged back into the flow of evening traffic.
No one on the busy thoroughfare noticed a thing.
Inside the lead carriage, Obara kept her eyes on the road ahead while Sarella handled the reins.
Behind them, in the second carriage, Nahor Demitris lay unconscious on the floor between Tyene and Nymeria.
Tyene poked him with the toe of her boot. "You think he'll talk?"
Nymeria wiped her dagger clean on the dead driver's cloak she'd taken as a trophy. "He'll talk. Men like him always do when they realize no one's coming to save them."
Obara didn't look back. Her voice was calm but firm.
"We get him somewhere quiet. We find out what he knows about Father. And then we decide what to do with him."
The sun was setting over King's Landing, painting the rooftops in shades of orange and red.
Two carriages carrying four very determined Sand Snakes rolled through the streets, heading toward whatever hole they'd chosen to do their work.
For the first time since arriving in the city, the Sand Snakes had a real lead.
And they weren't planning on letting it go.