Chapter 88 – Behind Closed Doors
The safehouse wasn't much to look at from the outside — a shuttered wine shop in the quiet backstreets of the old quarter. The windows were dust-filmed, the paint on the sign faded, the front door locked with a rusted padlock. But behind the façade, it was everything Kairo valued: secure, silent, and invisible.
They didn't speak as he pulled the car into the alley and killed the headlights. Only when the heavy steel backdoor sealed behind them did the tension in Elira's shoulders loosen, though just barely.
The interior smelled faintly of aged oak and dust. A narrow corridor led them into a room lined with shelves of empty wine racks. The table in the center was scarred and stained — a map of past conversations and decisions that never made it to official ledgers.
Kairo shrugged off his coat, tossing it onto the table. His tie was loosened, his shirt collar open. The city's damp chill clung to him, the night's violence still simmering beneath the surface.
Elira leaned against the table's edge, arms crossed. She didn't look tired, but there was a sharpness in her eyes that only came after too much adrenaline and not enough certainty.
"Vale wasn't lying," she said finally. "Whoever they were, they weren't his."
Kairo nodded slowly, opening a drawer in the table and pulling out a bottle of something dark and expensive. "Not his. Not ours. That narrows it down to… every other player with more ambition than sense."
She took the glass he poured her but didn't drink. "You saw their formation. They weren't street shooters. They moved like they'd done this before — many times."
Kairo settled into the chair opposite her, his gaze fixed on hers in the low light. "Not many crews have that kind of discipline. Fewer still would risk hitting both me and Vale in the same room."
Elira let the words hang before she asked, "So why tonight?"
"That's the question." He took a slow sip, the movement deliberate. "If they wanted the shipment, they would've gone for the crates. They didn't. Every round was aimed at us — or anyone who could walk out with us."
Her jaw tightened. "Which means they weren't after product. They were after names. Control."
Kairo gave the faintest smile — not one of amusement, but recognition. "They wanted to send a message. And they wanted us to hear it loud."
Silence settled again, heavy but not cold. The kind of silence that carried thoughts neither wanted to voice first.
Finally, Elira set her glass down untouched. "You think this is about the Hollow?"
Kairo's eyes stayed on her, unreadable. "I think the Hollow's not as far from here as we thought."
The words landed between them like a weight.
She exhaled slowly, stepping closer. "Then we need to know exactly who we're dealing with before they decide on round two."
He didn't move back when she came close enough for him to catch the faint scent of gunpowder still clinging to her hair. "Already in motion," he murmured. "But it's not just them I'm watching."
Her brow arched. "Meaning?"
"Meaning," he said, voice low, "that tonight proved something. Vale's not the only one who thinks you and I together are a problem worth solving."
The implication slid between them — the kind that was more dangerous than any bullet.
Elira didn't flinch. "Then let them try."
For a long moment, they just looked at each other, the distance between them filled with everything they didn't say. Outside, the wind pressed against the shutters. Inside, the air felt warmer, heavier.
Kairo finally leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Tomorrow we start pulling at threads. Quietly. I want names, affiliations, and why they thought tonight was the right night to move."
"And Vale?" she asked.
"He gets a courtesy call. Nothing more. He's useful until he isn't."
She gave a small nod, the faintest curve at the corner of her lips. "You really know how to make friends."
"I don't make friends, Elira." His tone softened, just enough for her to notice. "I keep the ones worth keeping alive."
For a second, her eyes lingered on his — not the strategist, not the feared lord of the Hollow, but the man who'd just spent the night pulling her through gunfire without once letting go.
She broke the gaze first, moving toward the door that led to the safehouse's private quarters. "Get some rest, Kairo. You'll need it."
He didn't follow, but he watched until she was gone, the echo of her words staying with him long after the latch clicked shut.