The Princess and The Criminal [ CAITVI ]

15 | The Smell of Survival

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Vi's POV
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The sewers were their usual charming selves—damp, dark, and stinking to high heaven. The kind of place that clings to you, seeps into your skin and your head, until you can't tell where the stink ends and you begin. Didn't bother me, though. Hell, I'd been in worse.

I looked over my shoulder, my eyes landing on Caitlyn, stumbling along behind me. She was gripping the slimy wall like it might hold her upright, her other hand still clutching those damn heels she insisted on saving. For someone so polished, she wasn't half-bad at toughing it out.

Her hair was a mess, face streaked with grime, and she was glaring at the sewer wall like it personally offended her.

"Think we're clear?" she asked, her voice low but still clipped, like she was trying to pretend she wasn't on the verge of gagging.

No point sugarcoating it.

"If we're not, you'd hear them," I said, my tone matter-of-fact, as though I hadn't just taken down half a dozen of junkies with nothing but a wrench and my fists.

"And here I thought you were the optimistic type," She spoke flatly under her breath.

I snorted. "Optimism doesn't keep you alive down here, princess. Keep moving."

She muttered something under her breath—probably a jab at me, knowing her—but I ignored it. We had bigger problems.

The silence stretched as we trudged forward, the murky water sloshing around my boots. The sharp pain in my forearm didn't bother me too much—just another scar waiting to happen. The adrenaline was still doing its job.

Ahead, a ladder came into view, rusted and slick with who-knows-what. It led to a grate that opened up to the street.

Freedom, if you could call it that.

"This is it." I stopped, jerking my chin at the ladder. "You're up first."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why me?"

"Because if you fall, you'll land on me," I said with a wry smirk. "And you'd whine about it for hours if I dropped a ladder on your head."

She shot me one of her patented icy glares before stepping forward, her heels still dangling from one hand. She grabbed the ladder, her grip tight as she tested the first rung. "If you bleed out while I'm climbing—"

"I won't," I interrupted, shifting my weight to keep from leaning on my injured side. "But if I do, make sure to tell everyone I went out heroically, yeah?"

She rolled her eyes and started climbing, her movements careful like she was bracing for the ladder to bite back. The rungs creaked under her weight, and for a split second, I thought they might give. Lucky for her, they didn't.

Leaning against the wall, I kept one ear out for trouble while my eyes wandered—strictly for tactical reasons, of course. Not my fault those tight pants of hers weren't exactly sewer-escape friendly. I shook my head, biting back a grin as the first snarky thought came to mind.

"Nice view from down here," I called up, my voice carrying just the right amount of smug to echo up the shaft.

Couldn't help myself.

She froze mid-climb, her head whipping around so fast I thought she might lose her grip. Her cheeks flushed pink, but her glare could strip paint off the walls. "Really, Vi? Now?"

"Hey, you're the one who insisted on going first." I shrugged, replying with all the nonchalance I could muster. "Just making the most of it."

"Unbelievable," she muttered, turning back to the ladder with a furious grip—her mumbled curses drifted down as she resumed her climb. It only made my grin widen, the ache in my arm forgotten for the moment.