"Elara, don't look back. Just walk. Faster," I hissed under my breath, my fingers digging into the fabric of her sleeve as I practically dragged her away from the stone fountain.
"Seraphina, what is wrong with you?" Elara asked, her brow furrowing in deep confusion as she stumbled beside me, trying to match my frantic pace. "You're acting like you've seen a—"
"I said don't look back," I interrupted, my teeth clenched as I pulled my hood lower. Through the periphery of my vision, I saw the dark-cloaked figures slip out of the alleyway. They were dividing, moving through the crowd with sickening, calculated synchronized precision. They were tracking us.
Elara, stubborn to a fault, ignored my warning. She snapped her head around. Her breath hitched sharply. "Oh. Those aren't local merchants."
"They're Ephraim's men," I muttered, a string of curses tearing through my mind. "They know exactly who we are."
