Dawn painted the sky with streaks of pink and orange as Amelia stumbled through the deserted streets, the weight of the watch heavy in her hand.
Exhaustion gnawed at her body, her muscles screaming in protest with every step. But the fear that gnawed at her heart was far worse.
Victor. Was he alright? Had they managed to overpower Vargas and his men? The thought of him injured, alone, sent a fresh surge of terror through her.
Suddenly, as she whirled around, she found a young woman with fiery red hair and piercing green eyes staring back at her.
"Amelia Alcott, I presume?" the woman said, her voice clipped and efficient.
Amelia's brows furrowed. "Who are you?" she demanded.
The woman smirked. "Someone who can help you. And Victor."
Amelia hesitated. How did this woman know her name?
