Liam stepped out of the chocolate shop's back door, the faint scent of cocoa still clinging to his apron like a fragile reminder of the quiet life he'd tried to carve out. The alley behind the shop should have been empty at this hour. Instead, steel rang against stone, and a customer—a portly merchant Liam recognized—lay sprawled in the mud, clutching a bleeding arm.
A knight in gleaming plate stood over him, a crimson feather fluttering arrogantly from his helmet. The man's sword was still raised.
Liam's stomach twisted. 'Not again. Not here.' He had chosen this corner of the capital precisely because it was supposed to be beneath the notice of the highborn and their enforcers. One more day of selling sweets, one more day of the girls smiling without fear. That was all he'd asked.
He moved forward before his better judgment could stop him.
