Alex fingered the handle of Renna’s knife as the window was rolled down, trying to steady his nerves. Here he was, twelve years old, an almost heir to the throne, about to become a murderer.

Fitting, perhaps.

“Need a ride?”

“Th-thank you, mister,” Alex stammered, biting at his lip. A convincing act, because he was terrified. “I’d like, uh, I’d like that very much.”

“No problem, kid.”

The door unlocked with a quiet click, and he slid into the seat with all the grace he could muster.

“Where to?”

“Clarity Row.”

Clarity Row was far enough away that Alex would be able to carry out the deed without risking too much. He’d gone over this plan a million times with Renna, every second worked out in meticulous detail. They’d accounted for traffic, every route their ‘taxi driver’ could take to get to Clarity Row… everything.

But what they hadn’t planned for was for the driver to start driving in the total wrong direction of all seven routes.

“Um, sir? Wha- what are you d-doing?”

“Poor little Alexander.”

And in that moment, Alex knew he’d been had.