CHAPTER 364: CHAPTER-364.

The other guards in the courtyard were more relaxed, chatting, yawning. Their patrols were slower, less focused.

’There’s a window.’

If she could time it right—wait for the rotating guards to turn the corner, slip past the distracted ones in the courtyard, stay low and fast—she might make it to the side of the building. From there, she could find a window, a crack, somewhere to see or hear what was happening inside.

Kaya took a slow breath, her hand resting on the knife at her side.

’Wait for the rotation. Then move.’

Kaya had been trying to listen—just a little closer, just enough to catch a hint of the conversations inside—when her spine stiffened. Someone was walking out of the building. From the way the guards bowed, some practically dropping to their knees both in front and behind him, she didn’t need a second guess. That had to be the man. A high-ranking officer. Whether he was the traitor she’d been hunting, she still wasn’t sure... but she needed answers.

She didn’t get the chance.

Two wolves suddenly snapped their heads toward her hiding spot. Kaya felt her heartbeat slip—just a beat, just enough to say damn it. She’d been spotted. One of the wolf-bastards narrowed his eyes at her, lips curling back in a silent snarl before he broke into a sprint.

Kaya cursed under her breath. Soldier or not, outrunning wolves wasn’t on her list of talents, and if she tried, every guard would be on her in seconds. Actually... they were already moving. The two wolves were just the alarm bells; the rest had begun to charge in behind them.

Her hand shot to her pocket. She pulled out her gun—only to halt halfway.

Right. No silencer.

Perfect. Just perfect.

While her mind ran circles, Cutie stepped in front of her so fast she almost thought she hallucinated him. Kaya jerked, eyes widening. Where the hell did he come from?

Cutie didn’t waste a breath. He swung a ceramic bottle down, shattering it against the ground. Thick smoke burst upward, curling through the air. Kaya barely had time to blink before Cutie grabbed her hand and tore off running.

The sound alone sent every guard in the vicinity charging toward them. And the direction Cutie chose to run in? Straight toward the front gate—where half the guards were already stationed.

Kaya could feel the weight of bodies rushing in from every direction. Her pulse hammered. She glanced at Cutie, who was still dragging her along like a man possessed. She didn’t know how it happened, didn’t even fully realize what she was doing. She squeezed Cutie’s hand, shut her eyes, and wished—just wished—that she could fly.

And suddenly... her foot no longer touched the ground.

Cutie’s head snapped toward her, stunned. Kaya was just as shocked. She was in the air—no wings, no mechanism, nothing. Her stomach lurched upward, heart climbing into her throat, but there was no time to question anything.

Later. She would panic later.

She pulled the cloth up over her mouth, hiding her face, and shot forward through the air. Cutie covered his face as well and followed after her. They slipped directly above the guards’ heads, weaving through their formation before anyone could piece together what was happening.

By the time the guards reacted, Kaya was already a streak in the sky, flying so fast even the vultures circling above hesitated mid-air.

They burst through the gate with the guards hot on their heels. Cutie twisted mid-stride—mid-air, really—and hurled three ceramic bottles at once. They shattered on impact.

The guards’ screams were immediate. Loud. Undeniable.

Kaya squinted down at their distorted faces, realizing from their watery eyes and twisted expressions that whatever was in those bottles wasn’t deadly—just painfully, brutally spicy.

She didn’t bother staying to watch. She bolted straight toward the nearest market. Cutie followed right on her heels.

They dove behind a small wooden stall, crouching low. It was cramped, barely enough space for both of them, but it shielded them from view.

Outside, the guards thundered past, still hunting for her.

Kaya pressed her back against the stall’s inner wall, breathing hard, her pulse refusing to calm.

Kaya pressed her back against the stall’s inner wall, breathing hard, her pulse refusing to calm. Outside, the guards thundered past, still hunting for her.

Cutie stayed perfectly still beside her, his shoulder pressed against hers in the cramped space. His breathing was controlled, steady—completely opposite to hers.

After what felt like forever, the sounds faded. The heavy footsteps grew distant. The shouting turned into murmurs, then silence.

Kaya finally exhaled.

"What," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "the hell just happened?"

Cutie turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting hers in the darkness. "You flew."

"I know I flew," Kaya hissed, her hands still trembling. "But ’how?’"

Cutie just shook his head. "I don’t know."

Kaya stared at him, then down at her own hands. They were shaking—not from fear, but from something else. Something that felt like energy still buzzing under her skin, refusing to settle.

She’d wished to fly. And then she did.

No wings. No mechanism. Just... her.

"This doesn’t make sense," she muttered, more to herself than to him.

Cutie shifted slightly, glancing toward the opening of the stall. "We need to move. They’ll come back."

Kaya nodded, forcing herself to focus. Later. She’d panic later. Right now, they needed to get back to the others.

She peeked out from behind the stall. The market was quiet—too quiet. A few people lingered near the edges, whispering nervously, but most had scattered when the guards came through.

"Clear," she whispered.

Cutie slipped out first, moving low and fast. Kaya followed, keeping close to the shadows. They moved through the market like ghosts, weaving between stalls and crates, avoiding the main streets.

By the time they reached the edge of the district, Kaya’s legs were burning and her heart was still racing. But they made it.

Veer was waiting for them near the meeting point, his eyes sharp and alert. When he saw them, his expression shifted—relief mixed with something else. Concern, maybe.