Come afternoon, the London streets were teeming with people. Evie made her way weaving through the crowds of a busy market street. Maids hurried along, carrying baskets of wares home to cook dinner while the more privileged women still sauntered idly from shop to shop, stopping at stalls and window exhibits to discuss fashion and gossip or how to throw away their money. Not having to worry over household chores, they strived to make time pass until the next party or meal came along.

Two separate worlds woven so closely together in this great city, and still so far apart.

Evie turned from her contemplation. For once, she found herself as the latter; bored, unoccupied and without a task. Clara had not shown up for the meeting, the urchin sent in her place passing on an excuse, and time for the new appointment next day. Thus this unexpected free time.

As she walked along her mind registered a sound, too constant and unceasing in the bustle of the street. Once aware, she knew the footsteps had been there for a while, following in her wake.

It might just be coincidental. She walked on unfazed.

She could not handle idleness, the anticlimax of nothing to do making her itchy and irritated. Now she continued walking through the city without direction or purpose, the only uplifting prospect of the day a meeting with Henry after dinner.

She made a turn around a corner, then another at the next crossroads, honing her hearing in on the steady stomps following a few yards behind. They kept a steady pace in her wake.

Great!

Chafed, Evie concluded she was followed. She huffed a nettled sigh. At least, dealing with the problem gave her something to do.

Snapping into alertness she kept on walking, her gait sure and unwavering. Carefully maintaining the same pace as not to give away her knowledge, she scanned the passing stores. Soon, she found what she wanted; a small tailor shop a short distance away, the entrance a recess with windows either side at an angle to the street. Behind the windows were immaculately tailored suits and dresses with frills and lace galore, though they were of little interest to her. The reflection in the glass, however, gave her a fleeting glance of her pursuers as she passed. Concealed behind the edge of her hood, her eyes lingered only a few seconds, and to them it only seemed as if she was assessing the merchandise inside.

In reality, she was gauging her enemy.

Two men walked side by side behind her, both wearing Blighter coats. The split second glance in the shop window played over in her mind as she continued on her stroll.

They were both large and burly, one kept his hand inside his coat, possibly with a keen grip on a gun of some sorts. The other wore a long dagger on his hip, the sharp gleam of metal visible for a brief moment behind the coat as he moved. Their eyes scanned the surrounding casually, their gaze occasionally grazing her back, but she was not fooling herself to believe they were uninterested. They were following the crowd around, biding their time and waiting for a quiet spot before they pounced.

She assessed the situation. They would avoid making a move on her in the crowded street. That carried too great a risk. The crowd were likely to intervene or alert the police if they attacked a respectable young woman, and their numbers meant protection. However, the crowds were thinning as the shops gave way to residential areas up ahead.

Her options were limited. Turning back would only bring on the attack; that was not an alternative with the added peril of civilians getting hurt. There was a dubious looking alley up ahead to the left; not the brightest of prospects either. Then there was walking on down the street. That was only delaying the problem; the Blighters would only bide their time until the street was empty. If she were to gain the advantage of surprise, although just minutely, it would have to be the alley.

She could, of course use the grappling hook and escape the situation all together, but who was she kidding? She wanted something to do. Adrenaline rose, sending the pulse pounding through her veins. It was a good feeling, the rush a gratification, like the universe falling into place. She slipped down the narrow passage, and as soon as she was out of sight, she sprinted a few yards to gain a semblance of distance. The alley was dank and dreary, the narrow gap between buildings leaving little light to reach the ground. The putrid smell of rotting waist soon filled her nose. Unsheathing a throwing knife, Evie turned and took a stance.

She heard their footsteps, the Blighters gait heavy in hurry when they came into view. Rounding the corner, the first Blighter drew his gun, but her aim was unwavering and true. The knife was embedded in his throat before he could properly aim. The gun never fired as he crumbled to the ground at his comrade's feet. The second Blighter cast a surprised glance down at him before turning toward her with a sneer.

"Nowhere to run, now little rabbit," he jeered, as his hand clenched the hilt of his dagger. The Blighters sneer widened in a terrible grin as another couple of men came out of the shadows further up the alley behind her.

Rabbit? Really?

She coolly shifted her stance, gazing at the approaching newcomers. The kukri was in her hand, her grip steady and sure. Slowly, she unsheathed another throwing knife.

The Blighters came to a halt a few yards away. The men eying her up and down, laughing quietly and scornfully.

"What a pretty little thing we have ourselves here!" one said casting a glance at his mates before turning back to her.

Ignorant…

"Hey lass, lay down your arms and we will treat you nicely," his mate jeered

…Stupid…

Evie coolly turned back to the first man, seeing his eyes rake over her figure, before meeting her gaze.

"Yeah," he said, devouring her with his eyes. "We'll treat you real nice!"

…and Snide.

Anger seethed within her. Always this; lust contesting bloodthirst. They wanted to end her life, and still had the audacity to suggest fucking her first. The insult was worn out and should not matter, however, she knew there were hundreds of women who had been stuck in a similar predicament with no way to defend themselves, and that always brought anger to her heart.

She would make them regret those words.

Time to show some fangs, she decided, distract Ignorant and Stupid and then dispatch Snide.

The jeering laugh ended when she let another throwing knife tumble through the air. The two newcomers scattered to avoid it, as she went for in for the kill.

Snide let out a roar of anger. Considerably larger and stronger than she was, Evie knew her advantage lay in precision and speed. He relied on his size, swinging the dagger down towards her in a stabbing arch. As the knife approached, she spun under his arm and stabbed once, severing the large blood vessels in his center, then shoved him stumbling forward. He howled in pain and collapsed in a heap against the wall. He would not get back up, although it would take him some time to bleed out.

She turned her attention back along the alley as his two mates joined the fight. The throwing knife was aimed to intimidate, not kill and had missed them both. Now she had little time to think before they were upon her. Instinctively her hidden blade engaged and blocked a knife, before she slashed at the extended arm with her kukri. The blade bit into flesh, the Blighter growled in pain and snapped a few paces back. She continued to move, ducking to avoid the blade of the other by a hairs breadth. Roaring of adrenaline, she fought back, deflecting a blow and hammering her fist in his face. His eyes went wide, momentarily dazed by the punch. Evie grabbed his arm and yanked him forward, planting the Kukri in his chest. The third man fell limply at her feet.

She had left the last Blighter out of her sight for too long. Her back prickled with unease and instinctively she threw herself sideways. The blade intended on severing her throat caught her in the arm as she threw herself away, tearing through the leather of her sleeve. She followed with a swipe of the blade, and the Blighter took a step back. Circling her slowly, his gauging eyes never left her. Then he suddenly pounced.

Evie countered the staggering blow, feeling sweat trickle down her back. She ducked a lash, then threw herself back as the man tried to snatch a hold of her arm. She lashed out with the hidden blade, catching only air, then avoided another assault from the man's blade.

He was skilled, she realized with trepidation. This one would be harder to dispatch than the casual Blighter. She ducked a blow, and lashed out again, this time nicking a gash across his jaw.

The man swiped the back of his hand against his cheek. Seeing the blood, he sneered at her as he paused and with a glint of murder in his eyes, he pursed his lips in a whistle. The sharp sound rung through the narrow alley and carried far.

Darn.

The last thing she needed was more Blighters. With renewed fervor, she fought back, slicing and countering his blows. He held his ground, deftly blocking her every attempt. Urgency crept up her spine. The sound of feet pelting to pavement reaching her in the distance. The hairs on her neck stood on end. They were many.

Her continued effort would have been sufficient if she had more time. He was tiring; however, not nearly fast enough to rely on wearing him down, now there were enforcements arriving. As she dodged another blow, she came to a decision. They had gained a sort of rhythm, countering each other's blows. She knew the step by now. There was a way to gain a chance, but it meant having to take a blow. Yet, it would be worth it to eliminate this one, before another band of thugs arrived.

The footsteps pelting towards them in the distance were closing rapidly. Dodging his fist, she steeled her mind, countered his blade and then, as his fist came flying, she did not dodge. Instead, she stepped close and drove the kukri up and under his ribcage. His blow was weakened, but nonetheless connected painfully in her side. Evie crumbled from the blow. Her grip on the kukri sipped as the Blighter collapsed.

A gunshot rung down the street and a bullet tore into the wall to her left.

She knew she was in a tight spot. They were too many. She fought the instinctive urge to blindly flee; the situation had to be assessed first. She unsheathed a throwing knife and straightened with a hiss of pain to take in the oncoming surge, ready to grapple to the roof if necessary.

Then the all too familiar din of fighting greeted her. Surprise and a measure of relief washed over her as she saw greens mingle in between the mass of red coats. Closest to her, at the center of the fray was the back of an all too familiar leather coat and tattered top hat. She clutched the knife in her hand and breathed hard.

The redcoats advance was shortly abandoned as they met unexpected resistance. With roars of anger, the Blighters took off down the alley.

She saw Jacob straightening and his shoulders draw back as his muscles relaxed from the defensive stance of fighting.

"That's right! Scamper off to whatever hellhole you came from!" he bellowed after them, and the Rooks around him cheered.

Lord! She rolled her eyes and bent down to retrieve the kukri from the body at her feet. The last thing Jacob needed was someone to fuel his ego further.

As she straightened, Jacob came stomping over, wearing a thunderous expression.

"What the hell was that?"

"What?" his anger was a surprise. She had been on the verge of thanking him, a quip of his keen sense for finding carnage on her tongue, but the words froze in her throat.

"You are lucky Tom heard that whistle and we decided to investigate!"

Behind him, the Rooks sheathed their blades and idly watched. Jacob was wholeheartedly ignorant to their presence as he scolded her. Her eyes snapped back at him. She dried off the blade on the Blighters coat.

"I would have been fine…"she started to argue, but he would not hear it.

"I saw you, Evie," he said. "You just let the bastard get a strike in!"

In that moment, he was the spitting image of her father, looming over her in training; the burning fervor in his eyes and the way he kept his fists balled at his sides. Her heart clenched at the memory and she had to clear her throat to find her voice.

"It was calculated, Jacob." Irritated anger was rising fast inside.

"That's why I'm angry. You of all know better than to do that!" His eyes scanned the alley behind her, noting the Blighter lying further away, before his attention snapped back to her.

Evie was growing more than a little annoyed by this point, feeling the assessing looks of the men waiting in the background.

He raised a glowed hand to her temple, and Evie felt the sting and the warm wetness as his fingers swiped across her skin. How did that happen? She swatted his hand aside.

His jaw clenched as his eyes raked over her, searching, grabbing hold of her wrist in order to inspect the gash along her lower arm. She shifted on her feet and jerked her arm back from his grasp.

"You're hurt," he stated plaintively.

"It's nothing. Just scratches," she said drawing a clean handkerchief from a pocket to dry the blood of her face. The gash could not be big, the sting only minutely and the blood was already clotting.

"Those wounds need tending," he said. "You're coming back to the base with us."

Anger suddenly flared in her. There was no need. She could tend to it later. Moreover, the men behind him was starting to look at her in a way she did not appreciate. Worry, concern and annoyance crossed their faces. She could read their thoughts a mile away. The last thing she needed was for the Rooks to brand her fragile and vulnerable. She had worked too hard to gain respect. Now Jacob was tearing it all apart by treating her as if she were some little girl.

"Jacob!" Her gritted teeth and the threat in her voice was meant to make him stop fussing. He did not take the hint.

"By God, Evie!" he growled and pointed an angry finger to her chest. "You're coming back to the base if I have to haul you there myself!"

Her insides were boiling as she weighed her options. She did not put it past him to carry out the threat. She could best him or try to outrun him, but she knew his resolve. He had put his mind to this and he would not pack in. The spectacle would only serve in her disfavor.

She sent him a look glaring daggers, gritted her teeth and balled her fists. He met her gaze with determination, knowing he had already won, that she would not chance the scene and cocked his head in the direction of the Rooks.

"The wagon is that way. Start walking."

The ride to the base was spent in silence, her thunderous mood enough to silence the men around her. The crooking of smiles on their faces, however, only served to blacken her mood.

Jacob was going to pay for this.

They arrived at the base, the cart halting at the gate. She jumped down of the carriage, disregarding the hand offered to her from one of the men, and walked briskly into the base, feeling her brothers eyes burn a hole in her back. She did not care. Bristling with anger, she ignored the greetings from the Rooks training in the yard and stomped through the doors and up the stairs into the office. Once there she waited impatiently, pacing back and forth.

When Jacob finally entered, she had worked herself into a fit.

"Don't you EVER do that again!" she shouted.

Her outburst was expected. Jacob flung the top hat to the table and stalked across the floor. Drawing on his height, he squared his shoulders and fixed her in a searing gaze.

"Get you out of a sticky place, you mean? Save your arse when you are up to your neck in Blighters?"

In another setting, his attempt at intimidation might have brought a smile to her face. Now she was furious and blind to anything but his insult.

"That's NOT what I meant, Jacob and you know it!"

"I saw the blow you took. I can't believe you would do something so stupid!"

"Don't you…!"

Breaking off her retort, Jacob crossed his arms over his chest and fixed her with an unyielding stare.

"I want to see what that bastard did to you."

Now, that was unexpected.

"I…" Her words failed her in surprise. He was joking. She felt her cheek heat up in indignation and embarrassment.

His jaw clenched.

"Stop fretting, you're my sister. Now strip!" There was no wavering in his tone.

Bristling with fury, she could only gape. The nerve of this man! Evie decided she had had more than enough. This folly was stopping right now! Furiously she started unbuckling the gauntlet while crossing over to the cabinet in the corner. She flung the gauntlet on the table on the way and shed her coat.

"Oh, I'll strip all right," she seethed and watched with scathing satisfaction a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"I'll strip, and then I'll beat your ass in that ring outside!"

He rolled his eyes.

"I'm not going to fight you now you are injured, Evie."

"You just showed everyone plainly that you think I need protection; that I am weak. A bloody damsel in distress! What the hell were you thinking?!"

She threw the coat on a chair, the vest and shirt following suit, then retrieved bandages in the cupboard and started wrapping her fists.

"If you think…" he started, but Evie broke him off.

"I'm giving you two minutes, Jacob. If you are not in the ring by then I'll start telling your Lads the story of how you got that scar on your brow; you know, the true one." Her voice was silky sweet and pure venom.

Uncertainty flickered over his eyes again as he stood very still, watching and gauging her threat.

"Yes, Jacob; I know. Mary told me how you drunkenly managed to climb through her window, then fell on your face handing her the crushed tulips you had picked in her mother's garden. She also told med how her father herd the ruckus of your clumsy ass and chased you from the house with a broom. Bloody fine moment for an Assassin!"

His ears were turning bright crimson in a way she had not seen in years. He clearly had thought no one knew, and Evie was pleased she had saved the story for just such a moment, rather than taunt him right away, more than a year prior.

"You wouldn't…!" he said as he stared at her in alarm.

"Wouldn't I?" she drawled and saw his jaw clench.

The feline smile drawing the corner of her lips up sparked something in his eyes. She could always count on that smile to tip the scales. He was angry all right.

Perfect!

Just the way she wanted it. Now she was sure he would not hold back. She secured the wrapping on her forearm and shot him a stubborn, challenging glance over her shoulder as she walked out the door.

"Two minutes, Jacob."

She heard him growl lowly and the unmistakable sound of his gauntlet clattering against the table as he threw it away, much the same way hers just had.

She was crossing the yard as he caught up with her, busy wrapping his fists while he stomped in the direction of the training ring set up for the day.

"Clear the ring!" he shouted, and the two Rooks who had been fighting broke it off and stepped away, mildly surprised and with a sense of trepidation as to what was going on.

One of the lads from the wagon eyed Evie up and down, and then looked at Jacob with raising alarm.

"Boss," he said. "Do you really think this is a good..."

Evie was in his face before he could finish the sentence.

"This is between my brother and me. Lay off!"

No way was she going to let anyone talk him out of this fight. The expression of surprise on his face was deeply satisfying, as was the grin stretching across Jacobs face in the lad's direction.

She walked to the center of the ring and raised her fist in a fighting stance. Jacob stepped up, mirroring her own position. It was a long time since she had fought him and she noticed he had grown; his shoulders wider and muscles larger, more defined.

He noted the assessing gaze, and his smile widened.

"Gained a few pounds," he said cockily. "A few skills as well."

"Oh, shut up, Jacob. I'll still beat you."

Haughty laughter and comments of disbelief trailed around the crowd. It was high time, it seemed, she showed them Jacob could be bested.

Suddenly, Jacob launched. She caught the slight shift in his eyes before he moved; giving her the split second she needed to react. Bringing her arm up, she deftly deflected the blow and punched him in the stomach, then spun away before he could counter.

There was a murmur and some cheering from the crowd. Evie blocked it form her conscience, focusing only on her brother and the seething anger inside.

"You gained speed," he said and the corners of her lips drew up.

"Maybe you just grew slow."

That sparked a dangerous light in his eyes and she knew he would be more focused in his next attempt.

When he pounced she was ready for the punch, but this time it was a feint, and he latched onto her arm, drew her in and jabbed her in the side once, tentatively. Pain tore through her already abused flesh and a growl escaped her lips. Instinct told her to move out of the position, just as he jabbed again, harder this time. She spun away, breaking his hold on her arm in the process and kicked at the back of his leg. His knee gave way and her hand was on his shoulder, forcing him down, but the resistance in him suddenly gave way. He had caught on to her intent and used her push to shoot forward, roll over and get back up again. She let go in order to stay on her feet.

She did not have the brute force he did, and he had weight on his side. To best him she had to use his weak points and her speed to gain leverage. As he rose, she was on him aiming to clobber him before he could get up. What she had not expected, was his hand around her ankle, yanking her straight off her feet. The fall winded her as she landed flat on her back. Before she was able to roll away, his weight was pinning her down, and his smug face in front of her.

Indeed, he had gained strength. However, she had learned a few tricks as well.

He was about to call victory, but the smile faltered as her legs wrapped around his neck and chest, yanking him off and rolling away. Dust billowed around them, and the dryness of it clinging to her skin and at the back of her mouth.

She vaguely registered the Rooks enthusiasm had grown as she jumped up, the tone turned boisterous and rowdy as the fight had progressed. They no longer feared for her welfare, but enjoyed the match. She allowed herself a fleeting grin before shutting out the sound.

The fight was starting to take a toll, sweat covering her skin and running down her back. He was stronger than she remembered; his punches packed more force, demanding more of her to fend him off. Fighting with bare fists, she had the disadvantage of both size and strength. Attacking him outright was futile; he would deflect her blows easily, a tough pill she had had to swallow when he grew into a man a few years ago until she learned to work around the problem. She would have to focus, find a gap in his defense.

Determined, she waited for the next assault. Jacob obliged, raining a series of blows against her. She dodged and deflected, forcing the strikes away. When the opening came, she punched him in the gut.

He had foreseen it. His arm all but wrapped around her, aimed to bring her into a headlock. Evie ducked and spun away, slipping out of the trap within an inch of it clasping shut. He stretched to gain a grip on her, but his fingers slipped and she was free.

He gave her no time to rest as the fight resumed. This would not do. She had to get behind him to gain the advantage she needed.

With a punch flying at her face, she was set. It was now or never. She ducked and spun underneath his arm, clasping his wrist as she moved, then kicked the back of his knees. She caught both knees this time, and they buckled underneath him. Finishing the turn, she brought his arm in a wrench against his back, and then forced him flat on the ground with her knee pressed to the junction between his shoulders.

"Yield!" she demanded.

He tried to shift his weight and push off the ground, but she easily twisted his arm to pin him down. A growl escaped him through clenched teeth.

"Yield!" she repeated, wringing his arm just a little further.

"All right, all right, I yield."

She let go and got to her feet, knowing fully well he would demand another round.

The crowd was cheering loudly and applauding her victory. Satisfaction spread through her veins. She slipped back into a fighting stance as he got up. The fight had worn her anger down; his as well it seemed as he met her gaze. His eyes drifted behind her, scanning over the men watching the fight at the edge of the ring, and then connected with her own gaze. The light playing in his eyes shone of pure mischief and Evie knew she was in trouble.

She had no forewarning as he outright tackled her, foregoing the fighting stance to throw his whole weight forward. An undignified groan escaped her lips as he latched onto her and drove her into the ground. She furiously tried to wriggle free, throw him off and get out. He used his weight to keep her pinned down while grabbing her wrists in a tight hold before sitting up, keeping his weight on her legs.

"Tables tend to turn around rather fast, don't they?" He grinned cockily, and punctuated every word as he leaned over. "Do you yield?"

She bucked against him, but there was no point. He had her securely locked down. The smug expression on his face at her futile effort made her roll her eyes.

"Yes, I yield."

He just had to even out the scales when it came to fighting her. She did not mind; it was rather cute that he still cared, and her point towards the Rooks was made. She knew the fight had made an imprint; now their looks returned respect and interest, rather than concern and care. It had cost, though. The pain in her side throbbed with the pulse of her heartbeat.

Jacob let go her arms and huffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Stubborn mule," he said as a reluctant grin spread on his face. "You conned me into fighting."

"Stupid oaf, of course I did."

The training was slowly resuming around them, the seasoned Rooks instructing the new recruits. Jacob took his weight off her and got up. Really, it was a relief, her bruising side complaining under the pressure. He grabbed her arm and drew her to her feet. She made to dust herself off, when his grip on her arm tightened.

"Told you, that needed stiches," he said and flicked a finger against the wrapping where blood seeped through the fabric. "Wash up and I'll see to it."

She was about to object, when he met her gaze.

"Don't even bother protesting. There is dinner in a little while, you can leave once you have eaten. It's not like you'll be working, anyway," he said with a grin.

No, likely not. She was aching everywhere. She dusted herself off and felt the muscle tremble in exertion. She was hungry… famished, really, come to think of it and dinner sounded lovely.

"All right… I'll stay," she said.

He would have got away with it, had it not been for the flicker in his eyes. At that, realization hit her, the light of triumph playing there, could only mean one thing; he was not the only one who had been conned.

"You!" she said in disbelief, her words failing at the sneaky bastard's effective cajole.

"Got you to stay, didn't I?" he said smugly. "Sorry about your side, but at least I was able to make sure none of your bones were broken." With the wide grin stretching across his face, she could not help but laugh.

"God! You're relentless, Jacob!"

He might be infuriating at times, and cocky and rash, but he was also caring. She could have done a lot worse, she thought smiling, as she went to wash the sweat and grit off her skin.