The bag bumped heavily against her hip as she left the bar, a sick feeling settling in her stomach at the realisation that, in all likelihood, she'd never set foot in the place again. She'd never see Rapid again, either. For some reason, that only compounded the sense of hollowness yawning inside her. The albino might've been a sleazy, two-bit criminal, but he was a part of the life she now had to leave behind.

She loped through the growing crowds as the day slipped into late afternoon, the sun swooping past the top of its burning arc and lathering the rooftops with a honey glow. But she wasn't moving towards the tram-carrier station—not yet. True to her words to Rapid, Jett had every intention of leaving the district for a long time, but there were certain things she couldn't go without. The twenty-five thousand barkstamps she'd received upfront from the felkin sat squarely at the top of the list.

So she headed for the trade market, hoping to take advantage of the daylight hours to avoid any unwanted wolfkin attention. Jett wasn't the only person who skirted the bounds of the law in Palharr district, and the other citykin here didn't take kindly to the muscle of authority. The wolfkin couldn't just come in shooting. She knew they'd be watching her workshop in some fashion, but broad daylight would go some way to keeping her safe.

Or at least...safer.

The heft of the longclaw felt strangely comfortable, currently sheathed at the small of her back and concealed by her jacket, bumping gently just above her tail. Out-and-out violence wasn't normally her way, but right now, Jett felt a primeval urge to hurt someone, to make the murderers feel the pain she felt right now. Could she really do it? Could she just kill another kin in cold blood? Right now, she told herself, yes.

She tried not to dwell, moving through the familiar streets for what might well be the last time. When she reached the trade market, the place was perversely normal, just as it had been yesterday. Voices rattled the air and smells flooded the narrow avenues between bodies, no hint of the mayhem that Jett had been put through last night. Her sleep-lagged mind twisted with irrational anger, urging her to smash up the nearest stall, to start swinging the knife until every inch of this place felt the pain that she felt.

Pull yourself together!

Jett dug the claws of her free paw into her thigh, the pain focusing her mind. No one here had any culpability for what had happened to her. She just needed to get in, get her money, and get out. She did her best to avoid any stall-minders who might recognise her, not wanting to draw any undue attention right now as she stumbled her way through the throng. Step by step, breath by breath.

The familiar shovel-like structure of the workshop materialised as she cleared the crowds, a buoy of normal in the raging sea her life had turned into. Jett rolled her neck from side to side, easing away the stiffness that had set in there and veering away from the front entrance, knowing damn well that there would be wolfkin watching.

She smiled a hollow smile at the thought. They'd be watching the back entrance too—it's not as if she'd been subtle in her escape. Still, she figured it would be easier to get in that way, and if she were the wolfkin leader, she wouldn't be telling her minions to kill on sight anymore. No, she'd been at large for too long now. They'd want to know where she'd been and who she'd talked to. They would literally cut the information out of her if they caught her.

Sliding the longclaw from its sheath, Jett tucked the flat of the blade against her inner arm, the grip clamped in her paw, ready to carve up anyone who stood in her way. She'd never killed anyone before, but the cauldron of grief, anger, and exhaustion made her feel like today might well be the time to do it. She skittered around the flank of the workshop, eyes watching every nook and shadow for wolfkin, but if they were watching, they were keeping a low profile.

Dropping to all fours, she gave the shaft of the escape hatch a tentative sniff, then scrambled inside. A few seconds later, she emerged.

The interior of the workshop was a bizarre blend of clean destruction. Evidence of her brawl with the wolfkin remained—the smashed gear and broken shelves—a carpet of smashed and broken equipment strewn across the floor. Closer inspection, however, showed a level of unnerving cleanliness. Not a trace of blood marred the floor or walls, and its absence made Jett's wounds ache with affronted pain. The wolfkin had taken great care to cover their tracks.

As she'd suspected, the block drive was gone.

The massive computer rig that had once guided every facet of her life was a bludgeoned ruin, beaten to scrap by blunt weapons. Looking at it raised a lump in her throat. She'd built it herself, scraping together upgrades and modules over long hard years of graft until she sported the best rig for twenty miles. Now it was gone, too. Jett reached out and patted the ruined machine.

"Gonna miss you, pal," she whispered.

For a couple of minutes, she sifted through the wreckage of her life, salvaging anything that she could. The fight and subsequent ransacking didn't leave her with a lot to choose from, but a handful of bits and pieces disappeared into her bag. Right now, she needed every minuscule edge she could get.

After digging through the scrap, she turned her attention to more important matters: the money. Kicking through debris, she moved towards the reception desk, and a swell of relief filled her chest as she examined the floor panelling. The surface remained flat and undisturbed.

Jett exhaled the breath she'd been holding and crouched down, touching her paw to the corner of one unremarkable slab of metal, visually identical to all the others. The spot her paw touched pulsed red, and the clunk of a lock sounded. Her breath caught as the edge closest to her popped up from the floor, just enough for her to hook her claws beneath it and ease it open.

Thank you, she thought to no one in particular at the glimmer of metal that shone from within. The denominations the felkin had paid in were large, so even though she scooped over twenty-five thousand barkstamps worth into her bag, it didn't add a whole lot of weight. She stayed crouched there, hugging the bag, mind turning over and over as she thought of her options. Part of her had been prepared for the wolfkin to have found the stash, leaving her scrabbling and robbing her way out of the district, but now she didn't need to resort to that and draw undue attention. The knowledge froze her for a moment, though, her normally sharp mind numbed by lack of sleep and the sheer emotional burnout that threatened to overwhelm her at any second.

The tram station. Start there. She could get to anywhere she needed to go from there. Picking a destination could be done on the way. Gathering her nerves, thoughts, and feelings up into her arms along with the bag of gear and money, she rose from her crouch.

Then she smelled them.

It was just a hint of something that didn't belong, but it made her stop in her tracks, the longclaw drawn and ready. Her body tensed, an involuntary reaction to the presence of the city's apex predators. She straightened up, scenting the air again, taking time to steady her breathing. Two of them, outside the door, minute differences in their individual scents enough for her to make a headcount. They had to know that she was inside. That they hadn't come smashing the door in after her confirmed her suspicions.

They would be waiting for her to try and sneak away, waiting to grab her and shepherd her to a secluded hiding hole where they could dispatch her with minimum fuss. A stab of indignant anger boiled through her at the thought. Just how stupid did these claw-draggers think she was?

Determination fizzed beneath her skin as she pulled the flashgun from the bag before slinging it back over her shoulder. Her grip tightened on the longclaw, and taking a deep breath, she turned to face the front door of the workshop where the wolfkin waited. Gathering her nerve, Jett forced herself to take the five steps to cover the distance and pulled the door open, stepping out into the light.

For an instant, fear rooted her to the spot. The two wolfkin flanked her, both looming with their faces cracking into carnivorous smiles. She could barely tell them apart—a pair of black-furred, slab-muscled brutes looking down at a piece of meat. Jett swallowed down her fear, stepping between them, paws tightening around her weapons in readiness.

"Not dead after all, eh?" one muttered. "You're a tough little scav, aren't you?"

"Boss said you survived that drop," the other chuckled. "That's the last time I take a bet with her."

Jett didn't reply. The image of her family—lifeless, butchered bodies littering a real, warm home—burst across her mind's eye. Did these wolfkin mongrels even know what their leader had authorised? Fangs, for all she knew, they'd been a part of it. With a defeated shrug, she let the bag fall from her shoulder with a dull thump. The wolfkin on her left flicked his gaze down to it, and in that instant, she moved.

In a flashing motion, Jett whipped the longclaw free, blade pointing out of the bottom of her clenched paw, and she stepped forward into the slash with a shrill snarl of anger. The keen black blade ripped deep into the wolfkin's thigh, spraying blood as she tore it upwards. In a single savage stroke, she opened a gash from thigh to stomach, and the wolfkin collapsed against the wall with a howl of agony.

Even as he fell, she was turning to face his comrade, the flashgun in her other paw primed and ready. The second wolfkin took half a step forward before she swung it up to his face and fired. A vibrant flare of white light pulsed from the barrel straight into the eyes of her would-be attacker, and he reeled backwards with a hiss, paws outstretched to ward off invisible blows, temporarily blinded by the shot.

Jett didn't need another second. Taking a single step forward, she jammed the longclaw against the wolfkin's throat with a snarl, pressing the blade deep enough to draw blood. All it would take was a flick of the wrist, and he'd be dead before he hit the ground. The enforcer froze, teeth gritted as he looked down at her, blinking furiously to clear his vision.

"You tell that bitch," she growled, her voice trembling with rage. "The next time she sees me, I'm going to skin her alive. She'll be begging for the end before I'm through with her. Think you can remember that?"

"You have no idea what you're into," he said softly. "Run and hide, foxkin. Run and hide. You're not going to get another chance."

Jett snorted dismissively. Then she swung a kick up hard between the wolfkin's legs. He collapsed to his knees with a yowl, only for her to reverse the knife and smash the hilt across his head with a clunk of metal on bone.

With her heart racing and her whole body shaking uncontrollably, she spun away from the two groaning wolfkin, snatched up her bag, and disappeared into the flow of the trade market.