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the door burst apart, and Rory’s head popped through the hole. “I’m gonna kill you now, you little cretin.”
    Ronan’s head spun as he scoured the room in a desperate panic. The rooftop offered his only hope. He squeezed and shimmied his way through the small attic window. Cracked wooden shingles scraped and splintered his hands as he steadied himself against the roof’s sharp angle of descent. As he pulled his legs through, he kicked out and whirled his legs around wide to cut off any downward momentum.
    “There he is!” A city guard pointed at Ronan. Next to him, an archer pulled an arrow from his quiver and loaded his bowstring.
    The steep rooftop provided no escape in any direction, but across a six-foot stretch of open-air, the neighboring townhouse offered hope of refuge.
    A sharp hissing noise sliced the air near Ronan, and a second later, an arrow sprouted from the wooden shingles an inch from his feet.
    Rory stuck his head through the attic window. “You’re done Latimer.”
    The fat guard grabbed Ronan’s jacket, but he twisted free, sprinted toward the roof’s edge and jumped. As he leaped, the sharp whistle of another arrow cut the night air. He sailed forward and slammed into the rooftop breaking his fall with his sore shoulder. Pain exploded in his shoulder as he rolled to a stop.
    “Damn slippery bastard!” Rory said across the open divide. The fat guard strained trying to pull his lumbering girth through the tiny attic window.
    Relentless pain pulsed through Ronan’s shoulder as he flailed from side to side willing away the agony.
    The attic window creaked under Rory’s excessive weight, and with a final push, he popped through the window like a cork from a champagne bottle.
    “He’s in the second house. Go!” A voice from street level said.
    Rory wheezed as he lifted his bulk from the sharp-angled roof and lined up for the identical jump. With a grunt, he leaped across the six-foot gap, but began his descent far short of the neighboring rooftop. He latched onto the roof’s edge as his body slammed into the house’s wooden side.
    Ronan used his shoulder to push himself to his knees, and a shot of pain lurched through his arm.
    Rory’s face flushed scarlet as he labored to pull his heavy body onto the rooftop. Inch by inch he pulled himself upward until both arms hooked over the roof’s edge.
    Ronan’s breath came in ragged pulls. He staggered onto his feet and eyed the struggling guard.
    With arms trembling, Rory pulled himself halfway onto the rooftop. In mere moments he’d have his body over the roof line.
    Ronan supported his injured arm and staggered toward the struggling guard.
    Rory’s eyes opened wide with fear. “Have mercy. Please.”
    They’d showed his mother no mercy, and he felt none for this man. With determination fueled by naked revenge, he poured his anger into a brutal kick that connected with the guard’s open mouth.
    With a sickening crunch, Rory’s head jerked back, and his face erupted in a bright flash of crimson. As his eyes rolled back into his head, consciousness faded from the guard’s expression. His arms slackened, and he fell disappearing beneath the edge of the roof.
    As Ronan appeared near the building’s edge, the archer raised his bow and drew a bead.
    Ronan’s stomach sank as he watched the arrow leave the archer’s bow. He flung his body backward as the arrow’s fletching brushed his rib cage. With a thud, he landed on his backside and inspected his chest and stomach for damage.
    “Stenson and Gilpin, get inside that house now!” A stern voice rang out.
    Ronan sat on his knees and pulled in agonizing breaths as he tried to calm the pounding in his chest.
    Guards scrambled onto the front porch and pounded the locked door.
    Ronan jumped to his feet and ran toward the rooftop door. He yanked the handle, and the door didn’t move.
    His stomach hardened into a sickening knot. He pulled again. Nothing.
    “The bloody door is made of