The Price of Freedom
The sound of the soldiers' voices cut through the fog like a blade, each word making Eliza's heart drop further into her stomach. She looked up at Alden, the realization settling in like cold stone. They had been found.
The smuggler, Kellen, was standing by the edge of the deck, looking out toward the approaching boat, his face unreadable. But his eyes flicked briefly toward Eliza and Alden, and in that moment, Eliza saw something she had never noticed before—something sharp, calculating, almost predatory in his gaze.
Alden must have sensed the same thing, because he immediately pulled Eliza closer to him, his voice low and urgent. "Get to the hold. Now. Stay hidden."
Eliza hesitated, but only for a moment. This was no time for questions. If they were going to escape this, they had to act fast. Without another word, she ran with Alden toward the stairs leading down into the lower deck. But as they moved, a sudden commotion broke out behind them—a sharp cry, the sound of swords clashing.
They turned to see Kellen, his hand on the hilt of his sword, blocking the soldiers' path, his expression hard and cold.
"You're not taking them," Kellen said in a low, growling voice.
It was then that Eliza understood. Kellen had betrayed them. But why? For money? For power? Or was there something deeper at play here, something she still didn't know?
Before she could think further, Alden pulled her down into the hold, his hand tight around her wrist. They ducked into a small, hidden compartment just as the sound of shouting grew louder, footsteps pounding across the deck.
Eliza's breath came in shallow gasps, the weight of what was happening crashing down on her. The price of freedom was higher than she ever imagined.