Bound By Bellarmine

It wasn't cold yet. Not really.

Some people still walked around in shirts with nothing but a blazer on top.

But once the sun went down, that stopped working.

By midnight, the street was nearly empty. One or two cars tore past, too fast to read the plates.

No pedestrians. Just the buzz of the streetlamps and the crunch of my boots on the pavement.

I wasn't in a hurry.

My flat was close enough-fifteen minutes, maybe less-and I'd worn a proper coat.

Heavy wool, belted at the waist, warm even in the wind that whipped through Aethelburg after dark. I'd zipped it to the collar.

The walk back wasn't bad.

I'd left late because my supervisor, fresh off a flight from Westmarch, had decided to call every single postgrad he'd ever ignored to a last-minute meeting.

Food was involved, which softened the blow.

We started at the Autogrill near the station around seven.

By half-nine, we were still going, so someone suggested The Corner.

Espresso and unfinished arguments dragged us past eleven.

I left just before they closed.

I lived alone. Had to keep myself in one piece, so I brought a coat, stuck to lit streets, didn't drink. Standard protocol.

When I looked up, the sky was the colour of old paper, darker above the buildings. No stars. No moon.

Just a faint smell of fuel and something burnt. A bus had probably passed recently.

Then I heard it.

Faint. High-pitched.

Someone shouting for help.

It was coming from a side street just ahead.

The sound bounced off the walls, then dropped out again, like whoever it was had been dragged further in.

I ran.

The voice came again, closer this time.

Female. Young.

The alley was narrow. Concrete walls, metal bins, two flickering bulbs above a steel door.

A delivery entrance, maybe.

I stepped in far enough that I could see the shadows move. 'I've already called the police.'

No one answered.

I stepped further in.

Two men. Both in dark jackets, one with a shaved head, the other in jeans stiff with something spilt down the thigh.

A girl was on the ground between them, curled in. Her arms were up, trying to cover her head.

One of the men kicked her in the ribs, then turned when he saw me.

He stared for half a second, then barked a laugh. 'Back off, bitch. Unless you want the same.'

I stepped closer. 'Two of you beating up a young girl doesn't make you tough. It just makes you stupid.'

He scoffed. Took a step forward.

I moved first.

My boot caught his side and sent him into the wall. His shoulder hit with a crack.

The other one lunged at me, grabbed for my collar.

I ducked, twisted, and elbowed him in the throat.

He coughed and swung, wild and wide.

He pulled a knife from under his coat. Thick blade. Military-style.