The market was alive with noise, color, and movement. Voices clashed like cymbals in the heat of the afternoon,merchants calling out their prices, buyers haggling, children weaving between stalls with sticky fingers and laughter that felt too fragile for such a place. The air was heavy with the scent of roasted fish, spices, dust, and something else I couldn’t name,something sharp that clung to the back of her throat.
But beneath all the chaos, I felt it.
The unease.
It threaded through every breath I took, every cautious step of my heels across cracked pavement.
I shouldn’t have come alone.
My hand stayed locked around the purse at my side. The leather strap dug into my palm, and the gun inside weighed on me more than any gold or stone could. Heavier than truth. Heavier than fear. To
