The safehouse walls were thick enough to keep out the wind, but not the weight of silence.
Lucio was still in the back room, stripping down one of the captured rifles. The sound of metal against wood came in short, sharp bursts, steady as a heartbeat. Kairo sat at the table, the ledger open before him. His fingers traced the inked names, not as if reading them, but as if measuring what each one was worth alive—or dead.
Elira poured coffee into two chipped mugs. She slid one toward him, the dark liquid steaming between them.
"You're not even pretending to sleep tonight," she said.
Kairo didn't look up. "Sleep isn't the currency we're short on."
She leaned back against the table beside him, sipping slowly. "Then what is?"
His eyes finally met hers, dark and direct. "Time. And loyalty."
There was no humor in the words. No softening. Just fact.
Lucio emerged a few minutes later, wiping oil from his hands. "Weapons are clean. We've got enough rounds for two full fights, maybe three if we're careful."
Kairo closed the ledger. "We won't be fighting here. This place is a stop, not a stand."
Lucio frowned. "We're moving again? It's freezing out there."
"Vale won't wait for warmer weather," Kairo said. "Neither will I."
The conversation ended there. Lucio knew when pressing Kairo for details was useless. He retreated to his bunk, muttering about the cold.
When it was just the two of them again, Elira didn't move away from the table.
"Tell me something," she said. "When you burned the dock… was it only to stop Vale, or was it to send a message to the Council too?"
His jaw tightened. "It served both purposes."
"Which mattered more?"
The question wasn't a trap, but it was dangerous. He could feel it.
"Stopping Vale," he said at last. "The Council can choke on their smoke for all I care."
Her lips curved slightly—not quite a smile, but close. "Good answer."
The fire had burned low, throwing more shadow than light. Kairo set the ledger aside, leaning back in his chair. "In the morning, we take the east road. We'll reach the crossing before dark if the weather holds."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then we make our own weather."
The corner of her mouth twitched again, though her eyes never left his. "You're always so certain."
"Certainty is cheaper than doubt," he said. "Costs less lives."
She didn't reply, just watched him, as if memorizing something she'd never admit out loud.
Hours later, the fire had died to embers. Lucio's snoring filled the back room. Kairo stood by the window, looking out into the black pines. He didn't turn when Elira's steps approached.
"You don't trust this place," she said.
He shook his head once. "You can board up windows, lock doors… doesn't mean you've kept the wolves out."
She came to stand beside him. "And if one's already inside?"
His eyes shifted to her. The distance between them was less than an arm's length, the air charged.
"Then I deal with it before it bites."
Her gaze held his for a long moment, the question hanging between them—who exactly he meant.
The night split with the faintest sound—a crunch of frost under a boot.
Not Lucio. Not the wind.
Kairo's head turned slightly, just enough for Elira to see the shift in his focus. She didn't ask; she didn't need to. Her hand was already at the small of her back, fingers curling around the cold grip of her pistol.
Another sound. Closer this time. Two steps, maybe three.
Kairo moved away from the window, quiet as breath, motioning her toward the far wall. She crossed the room without a word, flattening herself in the shadow between the wardrobe and the corner.
The knock came then. Soft. Deliberate.
Lucio stirred in the back but didn't wake.
Kairo didn't answer.
A second knock. This one slower. He could almost hear the smirk behind it.
"Elira," he said low. "On my signal."
She nodded once.
The door handle turned, metal scraping against metal. Whoever was outside wasn't worried about breaking it—they had a key.
Kairo's hand tightened on his sidearm. The moment the lock gave, the door swung inward, and a shape filled the frame—broad-shouldered, coat dark against the pale frost beyond.
"Lord Kairo," the man said, voice smooth, accented. "My employer sends regards."
Kairo didn't waste words. The first shot cracked before the man finished his sentence. It took him in the shoulder, spinning him sideways into the wall.
Two more shadows moved in the doorway. Elira was already there, pistol up, firing low and fast. One went down with a grunt, clutching his thigh; the other stumbled back out into the snow.
Lucio was awake now, swearing as he scrambled for his rifle.
"Out the back!" Kairo barked.
They moved fast, the cold biting their faces as they burst into the night. The safehouse's rear door opened onto a narrow track that cut between the trees. Snow crunched under their boots, each step pulling them deeper into the forest.
They didn't stop until the glow of the safehouse fire—now licking higher than it should—was nothing but a faint smear through the trees.
Kairo slowed, scanning their surroundings. "They had a key," he said, voice flat.
Elira's breath fogged in the cold air. "So someone gave it to them."
Lucio cursed under his breath. "We've got a rat."
Kairo's jaw set. "We'll deal with it when we can afford to. Right now, we move."
They pressed on, the forest swallowing them whole.
By the time they reached a narrow ridge, the sky was starting to pale at the edges. Below, the frozen river gleamed faintly, winding through the valley like a vein of steel.
Kairo stopped, scanning the far bank. No movement. No smoke.
"This crossing puts us two days ahead of Vale's men," he said. "If we push hard, we reach the rendezvous before he knows we're there."
Elira's gaze flicked to him. "And if he's already there?"
Kairo's mouth curved in a shadow of a smile. "Then we finish this earlier than planned."
She didn't press him, but the look she gave said she knew exactly what "finish" meant.
They descended in silence, the snow muffling every sound except their own breathing. But even with the cold in her bones, Elira felt it—that electric awareness when danger was close but still unseen.
Kairo felt it too. His pace didn't change, but his eyes were sharp, cutting over every shadow.
They would make the crossing. But somewhere out there, she knew, someone was already waiting.