The convoy left the hospital just before dawn.
Two SUVs. Blacked out. Routes scrambled at the last minute. Police escorts rotating off before the highway, replaced by private security with tighter mouths and quicker hands.
Kairo sat in the back seat, ribs protesting every bump, posture still impossibly composed. Even injured, even wrapped in gauze and shadow, he looked like a man the world bent around—broad shoulders filling the space, jaw set, eyes sharp.
Handsome in ruin.
Naya sat beside him, close enough that her knee brushed his thigh, one hand resting lightly at his wrist as if reminding herself he was real. Her hair was pulled back, face calm, flawless in that lethal, effortless way that came from knowing exactly who she was.
She didn't relax.
Not for a second.
"Something's wrong," she said quietly.
The driver glanced at the mirror. "Route's clear."
Naya's gaze fixed on the road ahead. "That's the problem."
The first shot didn't come from ahead.
It came from above.
Glass exploded inward as the rear window shattered, the sound violent and sharp. The SUV lurched as the driver swore, tires screaming against wet asphalt.
"DOWN!" Naya shouted, shoving Kairo sideways just as another round punched through where his head had been.
The second SUV peeled off, accelerating hard.
Too late.
A motorcycle burst from an on-ramp, rider low and fast, visor blacked out. Raven.
She fired with surgical precision, each shot measured not to kill the vehicle, not yet. To herd.
To control.
Naya crawled forward, yanking open a panel beneath the seat, fingers closing around a compact rifle. Her movements were smooth, disciplined muscle memory taking over.
"Stay with me," she told Kairo, her voice steady despite the chaos.
"I'm not going anywhere," he replied, fierce and certain.
The road narrowed.
Concrete barriers rose on either side.
A trap.
Raven accelerated, pulling alongside them, one hand on the throttle, the other raising her weapon. Her timing was perfect. Her aim inhumanly calm.
Naya leaned out the shattered window and fired. Not to hit.To warn.
Raven swerved, laughing softly to herself as she peeled away, forcing the driver to brake hard. The SUV fishtailed, slamming sideways into the barrier with a bone-jarring crash.
Airbags deployed. Smoke filled the cabin.
For one suspended breath, everything went quiet.Then footsteps.Measured. Approaching.
Naya was out of the car before the smoke cleared, rifle raised, body angled protectively in front of Kairo as he forced the door open behind her.
Raven emerged from the haze like a ghost helmet off now, eyes cold and assessing.
"Impressive," Raven said lightly. "You always were."
Naya's finger tightened on the trigger. "Walk away."
Raven smiled. "You know I don't do that."
Sirens wailed in the distance too close, too loud.
Raven stepped back, already retreating. "Next time," she said calmly, "I won't miss."
She vanished onto the bike and into the maze of streets before reinforcements arrived.
Naya stood frozen for half a second then turned, hands on Kairo, checking him frantically.
"I'm okay," he said, catching her face, grounding her. "I'm still here."
She exhaled shakily, forehead pressing to his chest.
Raven had attacked.
And survived.
Which meant one terrifying truth was now unavoidable..
This war was no longer about kidnapping.
It was about elimination.