Chapter 105 – Teeth in the Dark
The mountains were black silhouettes against the pre-dawn sky when they broke camp. The fire was nothing but faint embers, smothered under snow Kairo had shoveled over it with deliberate care. He didn't leave a single glowing coal; to be hunted meant learning to erase yourself as if you'd never been there at all.
Elira's hands still ached from the river crossing, but the warmth of movement was returning. Her pack felt heavier than it had yesterday, though she suspected that was her mind more than her muscles. Kairo had said We move before dawn — and he meant keep moving until something stops us.
They followed a narrow deer trail up the slope, pine branches clawing at their shoulders. Each step crunched in the thin frost, and each sound felt louder than it should have.
Kairo's head kept turning, listening. Twice he stopped abruptly, hand lifted, and Elira would hold her breath with him until he moved on.
They crested a rise just as the sky began to pale in the east. Down in the valley, low fog coiled between the trees, hiding the ground. Beyond that, jagged ridges ran like a wall — the route Kairo had chosen would take them along those heights, using the terrain itself as cover.
But the moment they started down, the quiet broke.
A single rifle shot cracked from somewhere in the fog below. It didn't hit near them — it wasn't even aimed to — but Kairo's posture changed instantly.
"They've closed the gap," he said, already scanning for a better path. "That was a signal, not a shot."
Within seconds, more sounds followed — the faint clink of gear, the sharp bark of voices in Italian. Shapes moved in the fog.
Elira tightened her grip on the dagger at her belt. "How many?"
"Enough that we don't stop to count."
He took her hand, pulling her toward a steeper incline. The loose shale bit under their boots, sliding with each hurried step, but it lifted them above the fog. Wind bit at their faces, sharp and clean — and carried the scent of smoke.
Elira caught it first. "Kairo… fire."
They both saw it then: a thin column rising from a ledge half a mile ahead. Not Feretti's men — the smoke was too faint for an army, too small for anything but a single camp.
Kairo's expression didn't change, but his eyes sharpened. "Could be shelter. Could be bait."
She gave him a tight smile. "We've been walking into bait all week."
"Difference is, I usually set it."
They reached the ledge faster than she expected, hearts hammering. The campfire was there, tucked in under an overhang — but no person in sight. Just a small bedroll, a tin cup resting in the snow, and a rifle leaning against the rock.
Elira scanned the shadows. "Someone's here."
Kairo's voice was low. "Or was."
That's when the whisper of movement came from behind them — soft boots on stone. Kairo turned fast, pistol already half-raised, to see a figure step into view from behind a jut of rock.
It wasn't Feretti's soldier.
It was the stranger from the village.
Only now, his scarf was gone, and the smirk was replaced by something colder. "Lord Voletti," he said again, as if testing the name in the air. "I told you one night. You've had two."
Kairo didn't lower the gun. "And you've been following for both."
The man's eyes flicked to Elira, then back. "Feretti is closer than you think. The river didn't stop them. They've split, taken the high ground."
Elira's pulse spiked. "So you're here to… what? Help?"
The stranger's smile returned — thin, sharp. "Help you? No. Help myself? Yes. But for that, you need to survive the next hour."
From the valley below, the fog suddenly erupted with shouting.
The stranger tilted his head toward a narrow ravine behind the ledge. "Move now, or we all get caught in the teeth."
Kairo glanced at Elira once, just enough for her to know the decision was made.
They ran.