They finished the night the same way it started—hungry, loud, and determined not to waste the locked door. By the time the sky over the river turned grey, both of them were spent, marked with bites and bruises, and running on almost no sleep.
Selene lay half on top of Aiden, her breath still uneven, one hand resting over the sealed pouch under his shirt.
"Tomorrow," she said against his collarbone. "We give them enough to want us alive. Nothing more."
"Agreed."
They slept in short, heavy stretches until mid-morning. Then they cleaned up in the basin, ate the last of the bread and dried meat without conversation, and left the Salted Anchor separately. Aiden went first, walking the narrow street toward the stables. Selene followed twenty minutes later by a different route.
