Chapter 87 – Portoscuro Turns
The silence after Kairo's words was thin and sharp, like a blade hanging in the air.
Vale didn't answer immediately. Instead, he tapped one finger on the edge of the table, the slow rhythm echoing in the vast space. It was a calculated pause — the kind meant to make men uneasy.
Kairo didn't move. Neither did Elira.
Then, without warning, the warehouse lights cut out.
For a breath, there was nothing but blackness and the sound of the sea outside.
"Down," Kairo said under his breath. Elira dropped instantly, sliding behind a crate as movement erupted across the room. Boots scraped against concrete, metal hissed — knives or suppressed weapons.
A flare of red light bloomed at the far end of the warehouse, bathing everything in a dim, bloody glow. It wasn't Vale's men. It was someone else.
"Elira—"
"I see them," she cut in, already moving. Her pistol came up smooth, her eyes tracking the shadows moving fast along the catwalk above. Three silhouettes. Military precision. Not dock thugs.
One of Vale's men shouted, the sound cut short by a silenced shot.
Kairo was already pulling her into cover, the two of them moving as if they'd rehearsed it for years. "Not mine," he murmured.
"Not mine either," Vale's voice called from somewhere in the dark.
The intruders came in hard — no demands, no warning. Just fire. Bullets chewed into crates, sending splinters into the air. Elira fired back, catching one in the shoulder and sending him spinning over the railing.
Kairo's focus stayed on the exits. "North door's blocked. South?"
"Clear for now." She glanced at him, hair falling loose from the scarf. "We're not leaving empty-handed."
Even under fire, he smiled — sharp, quick, dangerous. "I'd be insulted if you suggested it."
Vale's voice cut in from the shadows. "Truce, Seo. For tonight."
Kairo didn't hesitate. "Done."
It wasn't trust — it was survival math.
They moved, Kairo and Elira pushing toward the south door, Vale's surviving men flanking the other side. The air was thick with cordite and the cold bite of sea wind as the warehouse doors blew inward.
For a moment, Elira caught sight of the attackers' insignia — black stitched into black, only visible in the flash of gunfire. Foreign. Expensive. Not street-level muscle.
Kairo saw it too. "We'll talk later," he said, and his hand was at her back, guiding her through the exit into the freezing night.
Outside, the mist was heavier, hiding them as they ran for the car. Behind them, the sound of gunfire rolled like distant thunder over the water.
They didn't speak until they were inside, doors locked, engine growling to life.
Kairo's hands were steady on the wheel. "Not Vale. Not local."
Elira looked at him, the red light from the docks washing over her face. "Then who?"
He didn't answer right away. The city lights ahead blurred in the mist.
"Someone who thinks we're worth the effort," he said finally.
And for the first time that night, she wasn't sure if that was a threat… or a promise.