Getting the rescued captives out of the warehouse district proved harder than freeing them.
None of them were strong enough to move quickly, and the lower tunnels had left them shaking and disoriented. The woman Luca supported kept glancing over her shoulder as though she expected the dark itself to follow them. One of the younger men could barely stay upright without Marco's arm around him.
Frankie guided them through the quieter streets of the lower district where the lanterns burned dim and the watch patrols rarely bothered to walk unless someone important lived nearby. She chose the routes by habit more than thought, weaving through alleys she had known since childhood.
No one questioned her direction.
They reached an old storage building near the tannery quarter that Tomas occasionally used to hide stolen goods. The structure leaned slightly toward the canal, its foundation weakened by years of damp soil, but it remained solid enough to shelter people who preferred not to be noticed.
Marco forced the warped door open with his shoulder.
Inside, the room smelled of dust and stale cloth. Stacks of empty crates and broken carts filled most of the space. Tomas cleared a section quickly, dragging debris aside until there was enough floor for the rescued captives to sit.
Callista knelt among them immediately.
"Let me see your hands," she told the nearest man gently.
He obeyed without argument.
The pale veins spreading along his forearms had not faded. They still glimmered faintly beneath the skin like thin threads of frost.
Callista studied them for several long seconds before moving to the next person.
Frankie leaned against the wall beside the doorway, watching the street through a narrow crack in the wood. The district moved normally outside. Vendors shouted. Someone argued about bread prices. A wagon rattled past carrying dye barrels toward the river.
Nothing about the city suggested angels were building monsters beneath its streets.
Behind her, Tomas spoke in a low voice.
"So what now?"
Luca answered before Frankie could.
"Now we figure out how many of these things are down there."
Rafe shook his head slowly.
"You just killed one of their big guards. They're not going to politely wait while we investigate."
Frankie turned from the door.
"No," she said quietly. "They won't."
Callista finished examining the last captive and rose slowly.
"They're stable for now," she said.
Sofia looked relieved. "So they'll be okay?"
Callista hesitated.
"Some will," she said carefully. "Others might not."
Frankie watched her expression.
"You're leaving something out."
Callista met her gaze directly.
"The transformation has stages," she explained. "The angels start the change somehow, but it isn't complete until something stronger forces it the rest of the way. That Executionor was probably responsible for finishing the process."
"And without it?" Luca asked.
"They remain like this," Callista replied. "Halfway between human and scavenger."
Tomas grimaced. "That sounds… unpleasant."
"It is," Callista said softly.
The rescued captives had gone quiet while they spoke. One of them rubbed his arms constantly as though trying to warm himself from a cold that would not leave his bones.
Frankie understood the look in his eyes.
It was the same fear she had seen in Jalen before she ended his suffering.
Marco stepped closer to her side.
"You're thinking," he said quietly.
Frankie nodded.
"Yes."
He waited.
After a moment she said, "If the Executionor finished the process, then something sent it there."
Rafe snorted.
"You mean the angels."
"Yes," Frankie said. "Which means when it doesn't return…"
Luca finished the thought.
"They'll come looking."
The room fell silent again.
This time the quiet carried a different weight.
Callista crossed her arms slowly.
"They may not come immediately," she said. "Predators rarely panic when something small goes missing."
Tomas frowned. "Small?"
She gestured toward the tunnels beneath the warehouse district.
"To them, scavengers and Executionors are tools. Losing one might only make them curious."
Frankie pushed away from the wall.
"Curiosity is enough."
Marco studied her expression.
"You want to go back."
"Yes."
Rafe threw up his hands.
"You just escaped a nest full of monsters and now you want to walk back in?"
Frankie shook her head.
"No. I want to watch."
Callista understood immediately.
"If they send something to investigate the tunnels, we'll see it."
Frankie nodded once.
"And we'll learn how they react when their plan starts failing."
Luca lifted Red Oath from where he had leaned it against the wall.
The faint crimson lines running along the metal seemed brighter in the dim light of the room.
"Then we shouldn't be here when they arrive," he said.
"No," Frankie agreed. "But we should be close."
Outside, the sky had darkened toward evening.
The lanterns along the lower district streets flickered to life one by one, their yellow glow spreading slowly through the alleys like cautious fire.
Frankie pulled her mask up again before stepping toward the door.
Marco mirrored the motion automatically, wrapping the cloth across his lower face.
They had learned early that anonymity was survival.
Callista noticed the gesture.
"You still don't want anyone knowing who you are."
Frankie met her eyes briefly.
"Not yet."
They left the storage building in small groups so they would not draw attention. Tomas and Yara remained behind to watch the captives while Luca, Marco, Rafe, Callista and Frankie moved back toward the warehouse district.
The streets were quieter now.
People who lived in the lower levels of Novara Prime preferred to be indoors once the lanterns lit.
Frankie guided them along rooftops the final stretch, climbing the crumbling brick walls until they could watch the abandoned dye warehouses from above.
The building where they had found the cages looked even more lifeless from this distance.
Nothing moved.
No light flickered within the broken windows.
Rafe crouched beside Frankie and peered across the roofline.
"Maybe they won't come tonight."
Frankie did not answer.
The warmth beneath her ribs had returned.
Not strong.
But steady.
Marco felt it as well.
"They're close," he murmured.
Callista sat quietly behind them, her eyes scanning the surrounding streets.
"What do angels do," she said slowly, "when something unexpected happens?"
Frankie watched the warehouse doors.
"They adapt."
"And if they realise someone is hunting their scavengers?" Luca asked.
Frankie's gaze hardened behind the mask.
"Then they'll start hunting back."
As if summoned by the thought, something moved in the street below.
A shape slipped between the buildings with unnatural silence.
Then another.
And another.
Rafe leaned forward slightly.
"…those are Watchers," he whispered.
Three pale figures emerged from the darkness and stopped outside the warehouse entrance.
They did not rush inside.
They stood there quietly for several seconds, heads tilted toward the open doors as though listening to the silence beyond.
Then one of them stepped forward.
Frankie felt the mark beneath her ribs grow hotter.
Not because of fear.
Because something in the air had changed.
The angels were no longer harvesting quietly.
They had begun to notice that something in the city was killing their servants.
And now they were trying to find out what.