The night was colder than it should've been. Clouds smothered the moon, leaving the world dark, heavy, and unforgiving.
Ezra sat in the backseat of the car, knees pulled close, pistol digging uncomfortably against his ribs beneath the jacket Kai had shoved at him. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror—Kai's reflection caught his, hard and unreadable. Jace slouched in the passenger seat, humming some broken tune under his breath, cigarette dangling loosely from his fingers.
The hum of the tires on the cracked asphalt should have been soothing. Instead, it clawed at Ezra's nerves. Every shadow looked like a figure waiting. Every flash of headlights from the opposite lane made his heart stutter.
"Where are we even going?" Ezra asked finally, voice strained.
Kai didn't look at him. "Somewhere safer."
"Define safer," Ezra shot back.
Jace barked a laugh. "Anywhere that doesn't have bullets flying through the windows is safer, sweetheart."
Ezra glared at him. "You think this is funny?"
"I think it's inevitable." Jace tapped ash out the cracked window. "You dance in fire long enough, you learn to enjoy the heat."
Ezra clenched his fists. He wanted to snap at Jace, but what gnawed at him worse was Kai's silence. He wasn't giving Ezra anything—not reassurance, not explanation, just… walls.
After an hour of tense quiet, the road curved into backcountry. Forest pressed close, branches scratching against the car when they strayed too near the shoulder. Ezra hated it—no streetlights, no passing cars, just darkness thick enough to choke on.
"Why here?" Ezra demanded.
Kai finally spoke, voice low. "Because they won't expect it. Noise covers noise in the city. But out here? Every sound matters. Every shadow tells a story. If they're following, I'll know."
Ezra swallowed hard. "And if they're not?"
Kai's eyes flicked to him in the mirror. "Then you'll sleep. For once."
Jace chuckled. "Optimist."
The "safehouse" turned out to be an abandoned hunting cabin, half-sunk into the woods. It leaned on its foundation, wood siding grayed with rot, windows fogged and cracked. The place looked like it had been waiting for ghosts.
Ezra hesitated at the door, the smell of mildew and damp earth crawling up his nose. "This is safe?"
Kai brushed past him, flashlight cutting a sharp beam through the dark interior. "Safer than last night."
Jace followed, kicking aside fallen leaves. "I've stayed in worse. Once spent three nights in a burned-out church." He grinned. "Talk about atmosphere."
Ezra didn't answer. He stood in the doorway a moment longer, the silence pressing around him like thick cloth. No city hum, no sirens, no people. Just trees whispering against each other in the wind.
Inside, Kai set his flashlight on the counter, its weak glow pushing back a fraction of the dark. The place was bare—one warped table, a couple of rusting chairs, a sagging sofa shoved against the wall.
"Pick a spot," Kai said flatly.
Jace flopped onto the sofa immediately. "Called it."
Ezra hovered, then finally lowered himself onto a chair, folding his arms. "So this is it? We hide out here until… what? You sniff out your traitor?"
Kai crouched by the window, adjusting the curtain so only the barest strip of moonlight cut through. "We wait. We listen. Patterns always surface."
"Patterns?" Ezra repeated.
Kai didn't elaborate.
Jace smirked from the sofa. "Translation: he's going to watch us all night like a wolf sniffing out a weak throat. Careful, Ezra—don't twitch too much, or he'll think it's guilt."
Ezra's pulse spiked. "I didn't—"
Kai's voice cut in, quiet but edged like glass. "Enough, Jace."
Jace threw his hands up. "Fine. Just keeping the air lively."
Hours crawled. The woods pressed tight outside, their whispers seeping through the cracked boards. Ezra sat stiff at the table, eyes tracing the grooves in the wood. He wanted to sleep, but the thought of closing his eyes here, in this place, with these people—impossible.
Kai moved silently, methodically, checking every window, every corner. He was relentless, controlled, a man carved from stone. Ezra's eyes kept tracking him, searching for something—any flicker of vulnerability. Nothing came.
At one point, Kai stopped behind him. Ezra felt the heat of his presence, too close, too sharp.
"You're still shaking," Kai said quietly.
Ezra stiffened. "No, I'm not."
Kai leaned closer, voice just above his ear. "Don't lie to me."
Ezra turned sharply, meeting those piercing eyes. His breath caught. The cabin seemed smaller, airless, with Kai's gaze pinning him there.
"You keep watching me," Ezra whispered.
"Because you're unpredictable," Kai replied, calm as ever.
Ezra's chest tightened. "Unpredictable doesn't mean guilty."
For a second—just a second—Kai's expression shifted, something unreadable flickering there. Then it was gone. He pulled back, mask firmly in place.
Ezra exhaled shakily, pulse thrumming. He hated the way Kai could make him feel like prey and protector all at once.
From the sofa, Jace chuckled. "Careful, Ezra. You keep staring into those eyes, you might start confusing suspicion for affection."
Ezra's face burned. "Go to hell."
"Already there," Jace said with a grin, stretching out.
Sometime past midnight, the forest cracked.
A sound—sharp, quick. Not the wind. Not the house settling. A branch snapping under weight.
Kai's head lifted instantly. His hand closed around his gun. Jace sat up, grin gone, cigarette forgotten.
Ezra froze, blood roaring in his ears. "What was that?"
Kai motioned for silence. He moved to the window, peering into the black. The woods stared back, vast and impenetrable.
Another sound—closer this time. A shuffle of leaves.
Ezra's breath caught. His fingers found the pistol under his jacket, trembling as he pulled it free.
Jace whispered, low and razor-sharp, "Looks like your welcome party found us."
Kai didn't move, didn't flinch. But Ezra could see it—the tightening of his jaw, the shift of his shoulders. He was ready.
Ezra wasn't.
The sound came again—right outside now, dragging slow across the porch.
The door creaked.
Ezra's knuckles whitened on the grip of the gun. His heart hammered against his ribs. He wanted to run, to hide, to disappear. But Kai's voice cut through, steady, anchoring.
"Stay calm."
Ezra swallowed hard, fear choking him.
The doorknob twitched.
And then—
Silence.
The woods went still. The cabin held its breath.
Ezra's lungs burned. Jace's smirk had vanished completely, his eyes sharp now, predatory. Kai remained by the window, every muscle taut, a predator waiting.
Minutes passed. Nothing moved.
Finally, Kai lowered his weapon, though his grip never relaxed. "They're testing us. Seeing if we'll break."
Ezra's pulse refused to slow. "And if we do?"
Kai turned, gaze locking onto him. "Then we're already dead."