//CLARA//

I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep.

One moment I was staring at the canopy. The next, a knock cracked through my skull like a hammer.

"Miss Eleanor?"

I jolted upright, heart slamming against my ribs.

"Miss Eleanor, are you decent?"

Hattie. I let out a breath and pressed a hand to my chest.

"Yeah," I called out, my voice rough. "Come in."

The door opened. Hattie stepped inside, already dressed, her apron crisp, her hair pinned tight. She took one look at me and frowned.

"You’re still in bed."

"Observant."

"The seamstresses will be here in an hour. Aunt Cornelia is already downstairs."

I groaned and fell back against the pillows. "Kill me now."

Hattie didn’t laugh. She just crossed to the wardrobe and started pulling out dresses.

"You’ll need to eat something before they arrive. I can bring up a tray."

"I’m not hungry."

"You said that yesterday."

"Still true."

She turned to look at me, her arms full of silk.

"Miss Eleanor, you can’t avoid them forever."

I stared at the canopy. "Watch me."

I did not, in fact, avoid them forever.

By the time I made it downstairs, dressed in all black and mildly homicidal, the drawing room was already a battlefield.

"There you are." Aunt Cornelia’s eyes swept over me, sharp and assessing. "Finally. We have work to do."

"The fitting can wait."

"Nonsense. It cannot be delayed."

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words died in my throat.

Casimir. I need to talk to him.

"Where’s Casimir?" I asked.

Aunt Cornelia didn’t look up from the gown she was inspecting.

"He left early. Business. He didn’t say when he’d be back."

Of course he didn’t.

I stood there for a moment, my mind battling over what to do. Then I turned and walked out.

"Eleanor! The fitting—where on earth do you think you’re going!"

"I’ll be back."

I wasn’t going to be back. I bolted. I took the back stairs, nearly tripping over a maid carrying a bucket of coal, and slipped out the side door into the garden. I didn’t stop until I was three blocks away, leaning against a cold brick wall and trying to catch my breath.

The lace cage was behind me for now. But the clock was still ticking.

"Right," I muttered, straightening my black dress and pulling my shawl tight over my head to hide my face. "Time to find this ledger, and by the love of Sherlock Holmes, please help me."

Elias’s old apartment was on the edge of the Five Points. Gary had stayed there before I moved him, before the men came knocking. It was a long shot, but I have to start somewhere.

It was tucked behind a butcher shop, and the smell of stale blood and sawdust clung to everything.

The front door was hanging off its hinges. Not a good sign.

I crept up the stairs, my hand on the banister which felt suspiciously sticky. When I reached the fourth floor, I didn’t even have to use the key I’d taken from Gary. The door was standing wide open.

"Oh, no," I breathed.

I stepped inside, and my heart sank into my boots. The place had been upturned. Violated.

The lumpy mattress had been sliced open, the straw stuffing vomiting out across the floorboards. Every drawer had been pulled out and smashed. Even the wallpaper had been ripped away in jagged strips, exposing the rotting lath underneath.

"Elias, you idiot," I whispered, stepping over a broken chair. "What did you get us into?"

I started my own search, though it felt hopeless. I went through the trash, the broken floorboards, the tiny stove. Nothing. I was about to give up when I noticed something.

There was an old, moth-eaten wool coat lying in the corner, half-buried under the mattress stuffing. It was the kind of coat a man like Elias would wear when he wanted to disappear, drab, oversized, and smelling of cheap tobacco.

I picked it up, shaking the straw off. As I ran my hands along the hem, I felt a lump. Not a coin. Something flat and stiff.

I ripped the lining.

A small, navy-blue matchbook fell out. On the front, in faded gold lettering, it read: The Velvet Noose. And on the back, a series of numbers were scribbled in pencil: 14-2-33.

"A locker? A safe?" I wondered aloud.

Suddenly, the floorboards in the hallway groaned.

I froze. My breath caught in my throat. These weren’t the light, hurried steps of a neighbor. These were heavy. The thick boots Gary had talked about.

"You find anything yet?" a gravelly voice asked from just outside the door.

"Nothing but dust and rat shit," another voice replied. "Boss said he was sure the eel hid it here. He would have carried it when he escaped. He’s not that stupid."

"Well, he’s stupid enough to be dead soon. Let’s double-check the floorboards. If it’s not here, we head to the girl."

My blood turned to ice. The girl. Me.

Fuck. They knew Elias was with a girl now. Which meant they’d be watching every woman who so much as breathed near his old haunts. Including me. And if they watched me long enough, they’d find Gary.

I looked around the room. There was no back door. Just the one window, and we were four stories up. I could hear them entering the room now, their boots crunching on the broken glass I’d tried so hard to avoid.

I dived behind the sliced-open mattress, pressing my back against the wall and praying the shadows of the corner were deep enough.

"Look at this," the first guy said. I could hear him kicking the mattress, the one I was currently hiding behind. "Someone was here. This stuffing is still settling."

"Maybe the girl?"

"She wouldn’t have the guts. Probably just some street rat looking for scraps."

I squeezed my eyes shut, clutching the matchbook so hard the edges bit into my palm.

My heart was thumping so loudly I was sure they could hear it.

Please go away. Please go away.

"Wait," the gravelly voice said. "What’s that?"

I heard a heavy step right next to my head. Then, the sound of someone picking something up.

"A glove," he said. "Expensive silk. This ain’t no street rat’s gear."

I realized with a jolt of horror that I’d dropped one of my gloves when I was ripping the coat lining. I was such a dipshit.

"She’s here," the guy growled. "Search the corners. Find her."

I looked at the window. It was a long drop, but there was a narrow ledge leading to a rusty fire escape a few feet away. It was a death trap. But staying here was a different kind of death.

As the shadow of a large man fell over the mattress, I didn’t wait. I stood up and threw the heavy, straw-filled mattress toward him.

"Hey!" he yelled, stumbling back.

I didn’t stay to watch. I scrambled onto the windowsill, the cold wind whipping my hair across my face.

"She’s going for the window!" 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

I leaped. My fingers caught the cold, rusted iron of the fire escape railing. It groaned, the bolts pulling dangerously away from the brick. I swung my legs over, my boots slipping on the slick metal.

"Stop her!"

A hand grabbed the back of my dress. I heard the fabric tear. I didn’t care. I kicked back with everything I had, my heel catching something soft. There was a grunt of pain, and the grip loosened.

I scrambled down the stairs, the metal rattling like a cage. By the time I hit the alleyway, my hands were bleeding and my heart was in my throat.

I didn’t look back. I ran.

I wove through the crowded streets of the tenements, ducking behind laundry lines and pushing past vendors. I didn’t stop until I reached a small, crowded apothecary three blocks away. I ducked inside, the smell of dried herbs and peppermint a sharp contrast to the filth of the apartment.

"Can I help you, miss?" the old man behind the counter asked, his eyes widening at my disheveled state.

"Just... just a moment," I gasped, leaning against a shelf of tinctures. "I’m fine."

I stayed there for ten minutes, watching the street through the dusty window.

From the window, I watched them scramble toward the street. One burly man barked orders—I couldn’t make out the words, then they broke apart, disappearing into three separate alleyways. None of them came toward the shop.

I’d lost them. For now.

Taking a deep jagged breath, I pulled the matchbook from my pocket.

The Velvet Noose. 14-2-33.

The syndicate had torn that room apart looking for this. It wasn’t just a clue, it was the only breadcrumb Elias left behind. And if the ledger was the answer, this tiny scrap was the price of getting there.

I needed to find Casimir. He had to know something, otherwise Mr. Cromwell wouldn’t have pointed me toward him.

But where the hell was he? The wedding was the day after tomorrow, and he still hadn’t told me the plan.