The Princess and The Criminal [ CAITVI ]

7 | A Place to Hide

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Vi's POV
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We crept down the alley, the steady downpour masking the sound of our footsteps. The guards' shouts echoed in the distance, their voices growing fainter as they scrambled after the diversion. I cast a quick glance over my shoulder at Caitlyn. She was clearly out of her element, but the way she moved—gritting her teeth, determination in every step—showed more than I'd expected.

I raised an eyebrow, impressed, but said nothing.

The city's streets were familiar to me—every twist, every turn. I knew where to duck, where to slip through unnoticed. Caitlyn, though? She was a stranger here. Every inch of her screamed out of place, from the stiff way she moved to the way she cursed under her breath at every puddle she stepped in.

"How do you even know where we're going?" Caitlyn's voice came from behind, barely above a whisper.

"I don't," I said bluntly. "But I know where not to go."

She didn't reply, but I could feel her glare boring into the back of my head. We moved in tense silence for a while, the rain growing heavier until it was hard to see more than a few feet ahead. My boots splashed through puddles as I led us deeper into the alleyways, relying on instinct to guide us away from danger.

Finally, I spotted a familiar side street, its narrow entrance hidden behind a stack of crates. I pushed them aside and motioned for Caitlyn to follow. "This way."

She hesitated, eyeing the crates and the darkened passage. "Uhh—where are you taking me?"

"To safety," I replied, exasperated.

"And why am I getting the feeling this is the opposite of safety." She asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Would you rather wait for the guards to catch up?" I shot back, a little sharper than I meant.

Her expression remained doubtful, but after a beat, she sighed and stepped forward, brushing past me into the narrow passage. I followed behind her, pulling the crates back into place to obscure the entrance. The passage was cramped and dark, the air damp and heavy, but it led to one of my favorite hiding spots—a storage room in an abandoned warehouse.

The room was small and cluttered, filled with old crates and broken furniture. It wasn't much, but it was dry and out of the guards' reach. I let out a breath, shaking the worst of the water from my hair.

"Well," I said, brushing rain from my jacket. "Welcome to my hideout."

Caitlyn stood there for a moment, water dripping from her soaked clothes as she glanced around. Her expression was clearly unimpressed. "This is your place?"

I shot her a wry grin, slinging my soaked jacket over my arm. "Nope, just a hideout. My real place is less charming. We'll head there at sunrise." I ran my hand through my wet hair, pushing it back.

Her gaze flickered to mine before trailing down to my arms. For a brief moment, her eyes lingering on the tattoos and scars that marked my skin. I felt the weight of her gaze, but didn't say anything—just watched as her eyes quickly moved back to mine. Her expression was carefully guarded, like she hadn't just examined me in a way she hadn't intended.

"Not exactly what I expected," she muttered, her voice softer now, though she didn't acknowledge the lingering look.

I raised an eyebrow, leaning against a crate. "Well, hey, it beats a cell. Or would you rather go back to your tower?"

Her gaze flickered to mine, sharp and defensive. "I didn't ask to be dragged into this."

"Dragged into this?" I straightened, feeling the bite in her words. Taking a step closer, I let my voice drop lower, steadier. "I just saved your royal ass from a lifetime of answering to those guards. A little gratitude wouldn't hurt."