The first figure appeared like the forest itself had given him up.
No noise, no warning—just a man stepping out from behind the pines thirty meters below, his dark coat blending with the trunks. The rifle slung across his chest was casual in his hands, but the set of his shoulders said he could raise it in a blink.
A second figure mirrored him on the opposite side of the trail, closer to the switchback they'd just climbed. No mask, but a scarf pulled high over the mouth. Pale eyes caught the last strip of light through the clouds.
"They're bracketing us," Kairo said under his breath, his gaze never leaving the one below.
Elira shifted her weight subtly, her hand brushing the dagger. "Third?"
"Not yet. He'll be here."
Kairo's calm was infuriating and reassuring all at once. Even here, with the forest closing in and guns within easy reach, he was deliberate. No wasted movements, no hint of panic.
The man on the left called up in accented Italian.
"Long way from Verona, Voletti." His tone was almost friendly. "Road ahead is closed. Best you turn around."
Kairo took two steps forward, not threatening but enough to close the psychological distance. "And if I don't?"
The man smiled behind the scarf. "Then we take what you're carrying and put you in the ground where no one will find you."
Elira's grip tightened, but Kairo lifted a hand just enough to keep her still.
"Your employer send you?" Kairo asked.
The man's shrug was the kind that gave nothing away. "Doesn't matter. You've got something valuable. And we're not walking away empty-handed."
Kairo's reply was steady, ice under velvet. "Then you're not walking away at all."
From the corner of her eye, Elira caught the movement—the third man cresting the ridge behind them. Close, too close.
Kairo didn't turn. "Elira," he said, his voice so low it was almost lost in the wind. "When I move, take the one behind us. Quick and clean."
Her pulse kicked, but she nodded.
He waited until the third man's boots hit the rock, just within arm's reach. Then Kairo moved.
The shot from his pistol split the air, echoing down the valley. The man on the right went down hard, weapon clattering against stone. Elira spun, her dagger flashing in the dim light, catching the third man off guard. He lunged, but she twisted under his arm, driving the blade into his side just enough to drop him without killing.
The first man raised his rifle—too slow. Kairo's second shot tore through his shoulder, spinning him into the trees.
Silence returned like a drawn breath. Only the drip of blood on stone broke it.
Kairo lowered his weapon, eyes scanning the ridge. "Not professionals. They were meant to slow us down, not take us."
Elira pulled her dagger free, wiping it on the man's coat before stepping back. "Then someone's close."
His gaze cut to hers. "Closer than we like."
The one Elira had dropped was still conscious—breathing in short, sharp bursts, teeth clenched against the pain in his side. His eyes flicked between her dagger and Kairo's pistol like he couldn't decide which was worse.
Kairo crouched in front of him, one knee bent, the other foot solid on the ground. "Who sent you?"
The man swallowed. "You already know."
Kairo's voice stayed calm, almost conversational. "If I knew, you'd be dead already. So… try again."
A muscle jumped in the man's jaw. He glanced at Elira—her dagger still in hand, the blade streaked red. She didn't flinch under his stare, and for a second, Kairo caught it: that flicker of steel in her that had nothing to do with weapons.
The man hesitated just a fraction too long. Kairo leaned closer, his tone dropping to something cold and final. "You've got two breaths to give me a name before I put a bullet in your knee and leave you to the wolves."
The name came out like a curse.
"Luciano Feretti."
Elira's eyes widened slightly, but she stayed silent.
Kairo's expression didn't shift. "He's getting desperate."
The man's breathing quickened. "We weren't meant to kill you. Just keep you here until—"
"Until his real crew arrived." Kairo's voice cut clean through him.
The man's silence was confirmation enough.
Kairo stood, looking down at him for one long second. "Tell Feretti he'll need more than three men next time." Then he turned to Elira. "We move."
She glanced at the man. "You're letting him live?"
Kairo's gaze flicked to her. "Messages need messengers."
They stepped away, leaving the wounded man to cradle his side. The trail ahead wound upward, narrowing as the slope steepened. Pines gave way to bare rock, the air colder now, sharper in her lungs.
For a while, they moved in silence. Only when the noise of the injured man faded entirely did Elira speak. "You didn't tell me Feretti was involved."
Kairo's jaw tightened. "Because it doesn't change what we do. And because I didn't want you carrying that name in your head unless it became necessary."
She stopped briefly, forcing him to look back at her. "I'm here. I deserve to know when the threat is personal."
His eyes searched hers, unreadable. "Everything about this is personal."
The words landed heavier than she expected. She fell in step beside him again, their shoulders brushing as the trail narrowed even more. The brief contact was enough to send an unwelcome heat through her, one she couldn't afford to indulge.
Ahead, the ridge dropped into a small clearing, the remains of an old stone watchpost half-collapsed at its center. Kairo raised a hand, signaling her to slow. He scanned the tree line, listening.
No movement. No voices. Only the wind whispering across broken stone.
They stepped inside what was left of the watchpost. It was barely more than three walls and a crumbling hearth, but it offered cover from three sides. Kairo set his pistol on the ledge and knelt to check the map pulled from his coat.
Elira leaned against the wall, watching him. The last of the day's light caught the edge of his jaw, the sharp line of it framed by his collar. He moved with precision even now, each motion deliberate—more a strategist than a survivor on the run.
"Why does Feretti want you slowed down?" she asked finally.
His gaze lifted from the map. "Because if I get to Venice before him, the deal he's trying to make falls apart. And he knows I will."
Her brow furrowed. "And if you don't?"
"Then we're both in the ground before the week's out."
The certainty in his voice was almost chilling. But under it, there was something else—something that told her this wasn't just about business.
Kairo rolled the map away and stood. "We'll rest here an hour. Then we move. The window's closing."
As he spoke, the wind shifted, bringing with it a faint sound from somewhere down the trail—a distant crunch of boots on frozen ground.
They weren't alone. Again.