The Price of Promises

The streets of the docks were waking up as Adélard and Leon made their way through the winding paths. Sailors barked orders to one another, the creak and groan of wood filling the air as ships prepared to set sail. The salty tang of the ocean was stronger here, mingling with the scents of smoke and fish, and the clamor of the harbor felt almost overwhelming.

Leon clung tightly to his brother's side, his eyes darting around nervously. The package tucked under Adélard's arm felt heavier with every step they took. It was such a small thing, wrapped in plain brown paper, but it might as well have been a lead weight for all the pressure it carried. Whatever was inside—whatever Rourke wanted delivered—it was important enough to use them as leverage.

Adélard walked with purpose, his gaze fixed ahead as if already imagining the route they would take. They couldn't afford to get lost or make mistakes. The stakes were too high.

"So… where are we going?" Leon asked quietly, trying not to trip over the uneven cobblestones.

Adélard glanced down at him, his expression softening just a little. "It's a place on the far side of the docks," he explained. "Rourke gave us an address. But we have to be careful. We can't let anyone know what we're carrying, alright?"

Leon swallowed, nodding quickly. "I won't say anything. But… what if someone tries to stop us?"

Adélard's gaze hardened, his jaw setting in that determined way Leon recognized all too well. "Then we won't let them. Just stick close to me. I'll keep you safe."

Leon nodded again, his chest tightening with a mix of fear and admiration. No matter how scared Adélard was, he never showed it. He always put Leon first, always made sure they kept moving forward. It made Leon want to be brave too—made him want to help, even if he didn't know how.

They moved quickly through the narrow streets, slipping between warehouses and avoiding the busier parts of the docks. Adélard's grip on the package was steady, his pace unrelenting. Leon struggled to keep up, his shorter legs forcing him into a half-jog just to match his brother's stride.

Eventually, the buildings began to thin out, giving way to a more deserted area of the harbor. The warehouses here were older, their walls crumbling and covered in grime. The few people they passed gave them wary looks, their faces shadowed and suspicious. It was clear that this was not a place for outsiders.

"We're almost there," Adélard murmured, glancing around cautiously. He pulled Leon closer, his gaze sweeping over the darkened windows and shadowed alleys. "Just a little further."

Leon nodded, his heart pounding. The air felt heavier here, thick with the scent of oil and rust. He kept his head down, trying not to draw attention as they made their way toward a particularly run-down building at the very edge of the wharf.

It was barely more than a shack, its roof sagging and its walls warped with moisture. A faded sign hung crookedly above the door, the letters too worn to read. But this was the address Rourke had given them—the final destination.

Adélard paused outside, glancing down at Leon. "Stay behind me," he whispered. "Don't say anything unless I tell you to, okay?"

Leon nodded, swallowing hard. His throat felt dry, and his palms were slick with sweat, but he clenched his fists and took a deep breath. Whatever happened, he had to stay strong.

Adélard knocked on the door—three short raps, then one long one, just like Rourke's instructions. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the door creaked open slowly, revealing a tall man in a dark coat. He peered down at them, his face hidden in the shadows of the doorway.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

"Rourke sent us," Adélard replied calmly, holding up the package. "We're making a delivery."

The man's eyes flicked to the package, then back to Adélard's face. He stepped aside without a word, motioning for them to enter. Adélard hesitated only briefly before stepping inside, Leon right behind him.

The interior of the shack was even gloomier than the outside. Dim lanterns cast flickering pools of light across the cluttered space, revealing stacks of crates and old, dust-covered furniture. Papers were scattered across a rickety table in the corner, and the air was thick with the scent of must and decay.

Two more men stood by the far wall, their eyes sharp as they watched the brothers enter. One of them was short and wiry, with a thin scar running down his cheek. The other was bulkier, his shoulders hunched as if ready to spring at the slightest provocation. They looked dangerous—more like predators than people.

Leon fought the urge to shrink back, staying close to Adélard as they approached the center of the room.

"Put it down," the man in the dark coat ordered, his gaze never leaving the package.

Adélard nodded slowly, kneeling down and placing the package gently on the ground. He straightened up, keeping his hands in plain view. "It's all there," he said evenly. "Rourke said you'd know what to do with it."

The man nodded curtly, stepping forward to inspect the package. He crouched down, his fingers tracing the coarse string that held it together. Leon held his breath, half-expecting the package to explode or something equally terrible. But the man just glanced up, his eyes cold and calculating.

"You boys did good," he said quietly. "But don't think this means you're off the hook."

Adélard stiffened slightly. "What do you mean?"

The man straightened up, his gaze flicking between the brothers. "Rourke wants to make sure you understand your place. You don't get your mother back until he says so. You'll wait for further instructions."

Leon's heart dropped. "But—"

"Leon, don't," Adélard said sharply, cutting him off. He turned back to the man, his expression hard. "We did what he asked. He promised we'd see her."

"And you will," the man replied smoothly. "But only when Rourke decides it's time. Until then… stay put. Don't go anywhere. Don't talk to anyone. If you do—well, you know what'll happen."

Adélard's fists clenched at his sides, but he didn't argue. He just nodded stiffly, his face a mask of cold fury.

"Good," the man said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Now get out of here."

Without another word, he turned his back on them, gesturing for the other men to follow. Leon barely had time to process what was happening before Adélard grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door, his grip tight and unrelenting.

They stumbled back out into the morning light, the door slamming shut behind them. For a moment, neither of them spoke. They just stood there, staring at the closed door, the reality of their situation sinking in.

"They're not letting her go," Leon whispered, his voice trembling. "Even after we—"

"I know," Adélard muttered, his voice low and fierce. "I know."

He looked down at his brother, his eyes blazing with determination.

"But we're not giving up, Leon. Not now, not ever."

Leon nodded slowly, swallowing back the fear. If Adélard wasn't giving up, then neither would he.

They had done the job. Now they just had to figure out how to get their mother back—one way or another.