Snowflakes drifted like ash as the mercenaries closed in. Their whistles cut through the trees, crisp and sharp, weaving together like a deadly language Arya couldn't understand. But Ivy did. She saw it in his eyes the calculation, the recognition.
"They've surrounded us," Arya whispered, clutching Mira's arm tight.
Ivy didn't deny it. His gaze flicked from tree line to clearing, counting, measuring, weighing odds that didn't look good.
Arya's heart pounded. "What do we do?"
For a moment, Ivy said nothing. The silence stretched, filled only with the crunch of boots in snow, the rasp of steel drawn from sheaths. Then his eyes hardened, that same unyielding fire returning.
"We don't run," he muttered. "We outthink them."
Arya blinked. "Outthink them? They have numbers, weapons.
"And arrogance," Ivy cut in sharply. "That's a weakness."
The mercenaries advanced, their formation tightening. Mira whimpered beside Arya, her wound slowing her, her fear weighing them down.
"Listen carefully," Ivy said low, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "See that?" He nodded toward the far edge of the ruins, where the skeletal remains of a burned tavern leaned crooked in the snow. Beyond it, half-buried under ash and frost, a sleek black shape glinted faintly.
Arya's breath caught. A car. Not just any car, a Mercedes-Benz GLE, armored and sturdy, its emblem dulled but unmistakable. Likely left behind by mercenaries who thought they didn't need it anymore.
"That's our way out," Ivy said.
Her pulse quickened. "It's locked. And even if it isn't"
"I can get us close," Ivy said, eyes never leaving the approaching mercenaries. Then he turned to her, just for a moment. His gaze held hers with such intensity that the chaos around them blurred. "But you'll have to get it running. Can you?"
Arya's throat tightened. She remembered her father's grease-stained hands teaching her how to strip wires from old trucks, how to hotwire engines that had long stopped obeying keys. Back then, it was just survival after the wars. She hadn't thought those lessons would matter now.
But they did.
"Yes," she breathed. "I can."
Something flickered in Ivy's eyes trust, sharp and unspoken. It struck her harder than fear did.
"Good," he said.
The mercenaries spread wider, circling. One of them barked in a guttural voice, "Hand over the girl, and maybe the rest of you live."
Arya glanced at Mira. Pale, trembling, clutching her blanket tighter.
Ivy straightened slowly, his weapon raised. "On my mark, you run for that car," he murmured. "Don't look back. Don't stop. Just run."
Arya's mouth went dry. "And you?"
His lips curved in a humorless smirk. "I'll buy us time."
The thought of leaving him of sprinting through the ruins while he faced death alone, he made something raw twist inside her chest. But before she could protest, his hand brushed hers, quick and subtle, grounding her.
"You're stronger than you think," he whispered.
Her breath hitched, but then the moment shattered because Ivy moved.
He exploded forward like a storm, his blade flashing, his body a blur of lethal precision. He struck first, slashing the weapon from one mercenary's grip, kicking another into the snow. Shouts erupted, steel clashed, the air thick with violence.
Arya's heart lurched. Now.
She dragged Mira with all her strength, sprinting across the clearing. Snow kicked up around her boots, her lungs burned, but the black Mercedes grew larger, closer, salvation gleaming in the ruin.
An arrow hissed past her cheek, nicking the air. Arya ducked, dragging Mira harder.
"Faster!" she urged, desperation cracking her voice.
They stumbled to the car, half-buried in frost. Arya yanked the driver's side door it opened with a frozen creak. Thank God. She shoved Mira inside, then scrambled under the dash, her trembling hands pulling wires free. Sparks crackled, her heartbeat syncing with each frantic movement.
Behind them, Ivy roared defiant, unstoppable. But Arya could hear the mercenaries' numbers pressing down, could hear the whistle of another signal. They were regrouping.
"Come on," Arya muttered, twisting two wires together. Nothing. Panic surged. She tried again then the engine roared to life, deep and powerful. Relief slammed into her so hard she almost sobbed.
"Arya!" Mira shrieked suddenly.
Arya's head snapped up. Through the windshield, she saw Ivy sprinting toward them, his blade slick, his face set in grim determination. But two mercenaries chased him close, one raising his bow, the other lunging with steel.
Without thinking, Arya slammed the car into reverse, tires shrieking against snow. She yanked the wheel hard, the Mercedes fishtailing before slamming into the archer with bone-crunching force. The man flew, disappearing into the snow.
Ivy didn't falter. He cut down the second mercenary, then threw himself into the passenger seat just as Arya hit the gas.
The Mercedes roared forward, plowing through snow and ash. The ruins blurred, the mercenaries shouting, whistles blaring behind them.
But the car was faster. Stronger. And for the first time since the nightmare began, Arya felt air fill her lungs with something like hope.
Beside her, Ivy was bleeding, panting, but alive. His hand gripped the dash, knuckles white. Their eyes met briefly over the roar of the engine relief, trust, and something deeper that neither dared name yet.
Mira sobbed in the back seat, clutching herself as though to vanish.
The city lights shimmered faintly on the horizon.
They weren't safe yet but they were free.
For now.