Chapter 77 – Smoke in the Pines
The sirens were still faint when they reached the ridge, but Kairo didn't slow. He moved like a man who could read distance in sound, adjusting their pace without looking back.
The pines thickened again, the snow underfoot softening where sunlight hadn't reached. The air was colder here, heavy with the scent of resin and damp earth.
Elira kept up, though her thighs burned from the climb. She glanced sideways at him, noting the faint shadow along his jaw, the way his eyes were locked ahead — not in panic, but in calculation.
"You're quiet," she said finally.
"Thinking," he replied.
"About Vale?"
"About who Vale sent to San Dovaro. They moved too fast. Word shouldn't have reached them until nightfall."
She frowned. "You think someone tipped him off?"
Kairo's silence was answer enough.
They didn't stop until the trees opened onto a narrow clearing, the ground sloping toward a stream half-frozen under sheets of clouded ice. Kairo dropped to one knee, scooping water into his palm, his gaze scanning the opposite bank.
"We can't use the main roads," he said. "Vale will have them covered."
"Then where?"
"There's a hunting lodge three miles west. Belonged to my uncle's people. Haven't been there in years."
"Years?" she echoed, eyebrows lifting.
"Which is why no one will think to look for us there."
The snow was deeper on the westward trail, muffling their steps. They moved in single file, Kairo breaking the path, Elira following the pattern of his boot prints.
By the time the lodge came into view — a squat stone structure tucked into the hillside — her hands were stiff inside her gloves.
Kairo tried the door. Locked. A quick glance over his shoulder, then a single, sharp kick near the latch. The door swung in on creaking hinges, the air inside stale with disuse.
Dust lay thick over the furniture, and cobwebs trembled in the corners. But the walls were solid, and the shutters intact.
"Check the back," Kairo said. "Make sure no one's been here recently."
She moved through the dim rooms, her steps stirring the dust. No footprints but theirs, no signs of fresh ash in the cold fireplace. When she returned, he was already stacking wood near the hearth.
They worked without speaking for a while — him lighting the fire, her unrolling blankets from a chest in the corner. The first crackle of flames cut the chill, but the shadows in the room didn't lift.
"You still think someone tipped Vale off," she said finally.
"I know someone did," he replied.
Her fingers stilled on the blanket. "And you think it's—"
"Not you," he said before she could finish. His gaze met hers, steady. "But someone close enough to know where I'd go after the mountains."
She didn't ask how many people that was. From the tension in his jaw, she guessed the list was short.
They ate in near silence — bread and cured meat from her satchel, washed down with water from the stream. The fire threw gold across Kairo's features, making the lines of concentration sharper.
When they were done, he leaned back against the wall, one knee bent, eyes on the flames.
"You did well today," he said.
She blinked, caught off guard. "At the café?"
"At staying alive," he said. "At not freezing when it counted."
Her lips curved slightly. "You sound surprised."
"I'm not," he said, and his tone made her pulse skip.
Night fell fast in the hills. Outside, the wind rose, rattling the shutters. Inside, the fire's heat softened the air, loosening the stiffness in her limbs.
But the quiet didn't last.
Just after midnight, Kairo's head lifted, his body going still. A moment later, she heard it too — the faint crunch of snow outside, slow and deliberate.
He was already moving, crossing the room in silence to the door.
"Stay behind me," he murmured, drawing the pistol from his coat.
The footsteps paused just beyond the threshold. Then — a knock. Three short raps, evenly spaced.
Kairo's eyes narrowed. He opened the door just enough to see the figure on the step — a man in a dark coat, his breath white in the cold.
"I came alone," the man said. His voice was low, careful. "We need to talk."
Kairo didn't lower the gun. "Name."
"Lucio Ferrara."
Elira's stomach tightened at the name. She'd heard it whispered — Vale's former lieutenant, the one who'd supposedly disappeared after a falling-out over a shipment three months ago.
"What do you want?" Kairo asked.
The man's gaze flicked past him, just for a second, to where Elira stood in the firelight. Then back to Kairo.
"Vale's moving tonight," Lucio said. "And he's not just after you."
Kairo didn't move. The gun stayed leveled, his finger a steady weight on the trigger. Only the flicker of firelight in his eyes shifted, catching in the deep brown like a blade catching light.
"Vale's moving tonight," Lucio repeated, slower this time, as if speaking to a man who needed convincing.
Kairo finally stepped back from the threshold, but only just enough to let the man inside.
"Talk."
Lucio entered with the caution of someone who knew the cost of a wrong move. Snow clung to his boots, melting on the worn floorboards, leaving dark wet prints that trailed behind him like proof of his path. His gaze swept the room once, lingering a second longer on Elira before returning to Kairo.
"It isn't just the docks anymore," Lucio said. "Vale's expanding his net. He wants control of the mountain routes — every road in and out of the Hollow. That means anyone carrying goods, legal or not, answers to him. And tonight…" He hesitated. "Tonight he's making an example of you."
Kairo leaned one shoulder against the wall, the gun never quite leaving his hand. "I've been his example before."
Lucio shook his head. "Not like this. He's sending men west. Not street soldiers — imports. They don't talk, they don't drink, they don't gamble. They come in, finish the job, and leave nothing but bodies. You've crossed paths with their kind before, whether you know it or not."
Kairo's eyes flickered — a fraction of recognition, quickly masked. "And why are you telling me?"
Lucio's jaw tightened. "Because Vale made the same mistake with me he's about to make with you — he underestimated the cost of loyalty. He sent me to die three months ago. I didn't. And now, I want him to feel what that's like."
From her place near the fire, Elira studied him. His words had weight, but his posture — slightly forward, never settling into the room — told her he wasn't here for sentiment. Men like Lucio never were.
Kairo pushed away from the wall. "Where?"
Lucio reached into his coat slowly, pulling out a folded map. He spread it on the table, the paper stained and creased from hard use. "They'll hit the ridge trail before dawn. Vale thinks you'll head that way to skirt the patrols in the valley. If you're there when they arrive, you won't make it out."
Kairo's gaze traced the route, committing it to memory. "And if I'm not?"
Lucio's mouth curved slightly — not a smile, but close. "Then you'll have bought yourself a few more hours. Maybe enough to decide if you're going to keep running or start taking ground back."
Elira moved closer, her eyes scanning the map. "If we avoid the ridge, we have to cut south through the ravine. It's longer, harder to move fast."
"And harder to track," Kairo said.
Her gaze flicked to him. "So we move tonight?"
Kairo didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped to the window, pulling back the edge of the shutter just enough to see the tree line. Snow still fell, fine as sifted ash, covering their tracks even as they stood there.
Finally, he turned. "We move."
They packed quickly. The fire was doused, the room left as cold as they'd found it. Lucio shouldered a small pack but stayed close to the door, his eyes shifting between them as if measuring their unspoken rhythm.
When they stepped out into the night, the wind cut sharp, carrying the scent of pine and something metallic underneath — the warning taste of snow-heavy air before a storm.
They moved single file, Kairo leading, Lucio bringing up the rear. The trail narrowed between the pines, their branches sagging under the weight of fresh snow. Every so often, Kairo paused, head tilted as if listening for a change in the night's cadence.
It came just before they reached the ravine.
A sound — faint, deliberate — from somewhere above. Not an animal. Not the wind.
Kairo's hand went up, the silent signal to stop. Elira froze mid-step, her breath visible in the moonlight. Lucio eased forward enough to see around her, his hand already near the inside of his coat.
From the ridge above, two figures emerged, silhouettes against the pale sky. They didn't call down. Didn't move closer. Just watched.
Kairo stared back, unblinking, until the first figure lifted a gloved hand… and pointed straight at him.
The moment stretched. Then the figures melted back into the trees, silent as the falling snow.
Lucio swore under his breath. "Scouts."
"They know we're here," Elira said.
Kairo's jaw tightened. "Good. Let them."
He started forward again, faster now, his steps measured but unhesitating. Elira followed without a word, matching his pace. She didn't need to ask what he was thinking — she could see it in the set of his shoulders.
This wasn't retreat. This was positioning.
By the time they reached the bottom of the ravine, the wind had picked up, driving the snow into their faces. The world narrowed to the crunch of their boots and the shadowed walls on either side.
Lucio caught up to Kairo. "If you're planning to take them head-on—"
"I'm planning," Kairo cut in, voice low but edged. "That's all you need to know."
Lucio fell silent after that, but his eyes stayed sharp, scanning the dark.
When they finally stopped, it was at a narrow bend in the ravine where the rock walls formed a natural choke point. Kairo set his pack down and glanced at Elira.
"Here," he said simply.
She understood. Here was where they'd make their stand.