Chapter 111 – Blood in the Snow
The sky was the color of steel, flat and cold, with clouds pressed low enough to feel like a lid over the mountains. Kairo kept his rifle low but ready as he moved along the narrow ridge, boots biting into the frozen earth. Elira followed, her steps matching his in quiet discipline.
They had been walking for less than an hour when he stopped abruptly, one hand lifting. Elira froze behind him. The air was still, but the forest ahead felt… wrong. Too quiet, like the world was holding its breath.
"They're ahead," he murmured, eyes scanning the line of dark pines. "Not behind anymore."
"How?" Her voice was barely a whisper.
"They cut across the gorge somewhere we didn't see." His jaw tightened. "They're trying to box us in."
He motioned for her to stay low and crept forward, his body angling toward the slope. Through a gap in the trees, he saw them—four shapes moving slowly along the trail below, weapons slung but hands close enough to draw. Feretti's men. Two carried rifles, one had a shotgun, and the last kept glancing up the slope like he could smell them in the wind.
Kairo leaned back to Elira. "Four. Close range. If we try to run now, they'll see us."
"What then?" she asked, her fingers tightening on the hilt of her dagger.
His eyes met hers, steady and cold. "We don't run."
They slid down into a crouch behind a jagged outcrop of stone. The wind shifted, carrying the faint crunch of boots on frozen needles. The sound grew until the men were no more than twenty paces away.
Kairo didn't move until the first man's shoulder lined up with the edge of the rock. Then—swift, silent—he rose, the rifle snapping to his shoulder. One shot. The man dropped without a sound.
The others shouted, scrambling for cover, but the slope worked against them. Kairo fired again, hitting the second man in the leg, sending him rolling down the incline. Elira darted forward, using the chaos to close the distance. Her dagger flashed once, clean and fast, before she ducked back behind the stone.
The remaining two men tried to retreat, but Kairo was already moving, his boots silent over the snow. He caught the nearest one in the ribs with a brutal shove, sending him into a tree hard enough to knock the breath out of him. The last turned to run—too late. A single shot echoed, and the forest was still again.
Elira's breathing was quick as she stood beside him, scanning the tree line. "That's not all of them. There were more in the gorge."
"I know." His tone was calm, but his eyes kept moving. "This was just the front edge."
She glanced at the bodies, the blood staining the snow a stark red. "Then we have minutes before the rest hear the shots."
Kairo gave a small nod, already reloading. "Minutes is all I need."
They left the bodies where they fell, disappearing back into the ridge path. The forest closed around them again, but the air was heavier now, carrying the scent of iron and smoke.
As they moved, Elira kept glancing at him—not at the rifle, not at the blood on his gloves, but at the set of his jaw. There was no hesitation in him, no second-guessing. And for the first time, she realized it wasn't just because he was used to killing. It was because every move he made now was for her.
By the time they reached the next rise, the wind had picked up, carrying the echo of distant shouts. Kairo slowed just enough to glance back.
"They'll chase us," he said. "That's good."
"Good?"
He gave her the faintest, most dangerous smile she'd seen yet. "Because I know exactly where I want them to die."