The late afternoon light filtered weakly into the alley they were walking through, painting the bricks in a dull, amber haze.
Olivia's arm was still linked with her son's, her voice carrying with a rare liveliness as she explained exactly how she had shifted her stance to throw the man earlier, how she'd used his momentum against him, how the lock on his wrist had flowed seamlessly into the shoulder break.
Kafka also listened with wide eyes, nodding eagerly at every detail, like a boy at storytime.
They were just a few turns away from their scooter when the atmosphere suddenly snapped.
A jagged voice ripped through the alley.
"You bitch! I finally found you, finally! You think you can run away from me?!"
The sound stopped both of them cold.
Olivia's head jerked forward, and her stomach sank.
At the far end of the alley, limping heavily but still grinning with twisted triumph, stood the man she had thrown earlier, the one she had broken.
