Ember’s jump rope slapped against the cobblestones as she hopped, her voice carrying through the quiet street. “One for silver, two for gold, three for secrets never told…” The words flowed easily as her shadow stretched across the shopfront.


    The late afternoon sun caught the silk displays behind the glass, making them shimmer. Ember loved this hour, when the stones still held warmth and the bakery’s fresh bread scented the air.


    “Four for fortune, five for-” The words stuck in her mouth.


    Three men had appeared across the street, leaning against the tannery wall. They stood too still, too focused. Their eyes fixed on her family’s shop, ignoring the passing traffic and making no conversation among themselves.


    Ember tried to keep jumping, but her rhythm faltered. The rope scraped against stone.


    “Six for…” she whispered, the next line escaping her as one man’s gaze found her. His eyes were calculating, like he was marking exits. A fresh scar twisted his lip as he smiled, showing teeth without mirth.


    The second man shifted his weight, scarred hands flexing at his sides. He muttered something to his companions while studying the shop. They all smiled then, sharing some private joke that made Ember’s stomach cold.


    She forced another jump, her movements growing smaller. The rope felt wrong in her hands. “Seven for…” The words died as the scarred man took a step toward her.


    The rope dropped. Ember ran for the shop door, the bell jingling as she buried her face in her mother’s skirts.


    “Ember? What’s wrong, love?” Sarah’s hands found her hair, bringing the comfort of lavender soap.


    “Men,” Ember said into the fabric. “Watching.”


    Her mother’s fingers paused before continuing their gentle strokes. “It’s alright now. You’re safe inside.”


    But Ember felt the new tension in her mother’s body. Through the window, she watched the men trade glances that made her press closer to Sarah. They pushed off from the wall one by one, melting into the evening shadows without hurry.


    Her jump rope lay on the cobbles. She knew she should fetch it - rope wasn’t cheap - but couldn’t release her mother’s skirts. Despite the lingering summer warmth, she trembled.


    “Perhaps we should close up early today,” Sarah said, holding Ember closer. “Help me with the shutters?”


    Ember nodded but kept watching the street. The men were gone, but the golden hour felt spoiled now. She knew they would return.


    The shutters closed with a sharp click.


    Twilight seeped through the shutters of the Fletcher home. Sarah moved from window to window, each latch clicking beneath her fingers. She tested the locks again and again, a rhythm as steady as a heartbeat.


    Click. Test. Rattle. Move on. Click. Test. Rattle.


    At the kitchen table, Thomas guided Ember through her letters. “See this curve here?” His finger traced the shape, wavering slightly. “Just like that, yes.”


    Ember squinted at the page, struggling to focus. Boots scraped against cobblestones outside. The family stilled, waiting, until the steps faded away.


    “Like this?” Ember kept her voice low.


    “Perfect.” Thomas’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Now the next-”


    Sarah’s sharp intake of breath stopped him. Shadows crossed their door, and she pressed closer to the window, peering through the smallest gap.


    The footsteps lingered.


    Thomas pulled Ember against his side. The primer lay open and ignored as muffled voices drifted through the walls.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    “We could use more light,” Sarah said, her voice too high.


    “Best save the oil,” Thomas answered, but his arm tightened around Ember.


    Click. Test. Rattle. Sarah resumed her rounds, moving faster now. The house creaked around them - settling wood, old boards, each sound making them flinch.


    A boot landed heavy on their doorstep.


    Thomas went rigid. Sarah flattened herself against the wall, hand clamped over her mouth. No one breathed.


    The step moved away, joined by others until they blended into the evening street noise.


    “Back to our letters?” Thomas’s voice cracked. He pulled the primer closer, but couldn’t keep his hands steady enough to point.


    “Thomas,” Sarah whispered from her place by the wall. “The men outside-”


    “Later,” he cut in, glancing at Ember. “The lesson first.”


    But the pretense crumbled. Sarah checked the windows again and again. Thomas stared blindly at the primer, his merchant’s fingers drumming an uneven pattern on the page.


    Ember pressed closer to her father, watching darkness pool across their kitchen floor. Their quiet evening had become something else - a tense silence broken only by Sarah’s footsteps and the scrape of passing boots outside.


    When the next footsteps came, slower and more measured than the rest, they abandoned any pretense of studying. They huddled together, listening as the heavy steps passed their door, deliberate as a countdown.


    The wooden steps creaked as Ember crept downstairs, drawn by the light spilling from her father’s study. She pressed against the wall, finding the gap in the door.


    What she saw made her freeze.


    Her father sat hunched over his desk, his usually straight shoulders slumped forward. The lamp cast harsh shadows across his face, aging him beyond his years. His fingers, steady hands that had built their trading empire, trembled as they moved across the ledger.


    “Five hundred for the city guard,” he muttered, marking figures in the margin. “A pittance, really, but what it means…”


    The quill scratched against parchment as numbers filled the page. Ember had never seen her father’s writing waver before. Her gut clenched at the sight.


    Sarah stood behind him, kneading his shoulders, but the familiar comfort had turned to routine. Her fingers dug too deep, her movements stiff with worry.


    “We should speak with the other merchants,” Sarah said quietly. “The Coopers, the Blackthorns - surely they’d stand with us. Together we could-”


    “They’re already choosing sides.” Thomas set down his quill. “And not ours.”


    “There must be someone-”


    “Who would risk Markus’s wrath?” His hands pressed flat against the desk. “You saw how quickly the room emptied when he confronted me. They know what’s coming.”


    Sarah’s hands stilled. “The guard captain would double the patrols. The cost is hardly-”


    “It’s not about the coin.” Thomas’s voice was bitter. “We’re buying protection now, Sarah. For our own home.”


    Pages rustled as he flipped through the ledger again. The columns of figures seemed to mock him, reminding him how easily he could purchase temporary safety. The study’s familiar scent of ink and leather brought no comfort tonight.


    “Perhaps if we offered Markus a partnership-” Sarah began.


    “He doesn’t want partnership.” Thomas’s voice broke. “He wants submission. Or…” The alternative hung unspoken between them.


    Sarah gripped his shoulders. “We’ll find a way.”


    But Ember heard the tremor in her mother’s voice, saw it in her restless hands. She wanted to rush in and embrace them both, but fear kept her still - seeing her parents’ vulnerability for the first time.


    Thomas reached up to cover Sarah’s hand with his own. They remained that way, joined in silence, while the lamp burned low. Ember watched through the gap, barely breathing, as her parents faced what was coming.


    The open ledger before them held no answers.


    Ember knelt on her window seat, eyes fixed on the three men standing below. They hadn’t moved in over an hour, their stillness making her stomach twist. Her fingers left smudges on the cold glass as she leaned closer, trying to make out their features in the dark.


    These weren’t common criminals. She could tell by how they held themselves, by the way moonlight occasionally caught the edges of well-worn weapons. No merchant’s decorative blade, those. She swallowed hard, understanding without knowing why that something had changed tonight.


    When the guard patrol approached with their torches, the men simply stepped into shadows. They emerged as soon as the patrol passed, resuming their watch. They weren’t trying to hide - they wanted to be seen.


    She shifted position, her legs cramping from staying still so long. Her father’s chair creaked somewhere below, the familiar sound now strange and wrong in the quiet house. The cobblestones of Merchant’s Row gleamed dully in the moonlight. Just days ago she’d played hopscotch there, but now the street felt like it belonged to these strangers.


    A floorboard groaned downstairs, followed by her parents’ low voices. Ember hesitated, then slipped off the window seat. She couldn’t stand watching anymore.


    She found her mother in the sitting room, a single candle burning beside her. Sarah looked up, and Ember crossed the room to climb into her lap without a word.


    “Can’t sleep?” Sarah asked softly, wrapping her arms around Ember.


    Ember pressed closer. “They’re still out there.”


    “I know.” Sarah held her tighter. “But we’re safe inside.”


    The tremor in her mother’s voice gave the lie away. Ember tucked her head under Sarah’s chin as her mother began to hum an old lullaby. The quiet melody felt thin against the weight of what waited outside, but Ember clung to it anyway.


    As she drifted toward sleep in her mother’s arms, the moonlight spilled across the floor, cold and bright. The darkness pressed against the windows, patient as the men who stood guard below.