Ezra woke to the sound of rain.
At first he thought it was inside his head—the steady patter, the drip-drip rhythm that threaded through his dreams. But when his eyes fluttered open, he saw the leaks in the warehouse ceiling, raindrops pooling on the warped floorboards.
Kai was at the table, silent as stone, a cigarette burning slowly between his fingers. His coat was still damp, shoulders hunched like the weight of the night hadn't quite shaken off him.
Jace wasn't there.
Ezra sat up, scrubbing a hand across his face. "Where'd he go?"
Kai's gaze didn't shift. Smoke curled around him, twisting in the dim light. "Out."
Ezra frowned. "Out where?"
"Does it matter?"
The bluntness in Kai's tone prickled something in Ezra's chest. He'd seen tension between the two men before, but this… this was different. Kai's calm wasn't calm at all—it was restraint, pulled so tight it might snap.
"Did you fight?" Ezra asked quietly.
That made Kai finally look at him. His eyes were darker than the storm outside, unreadable. "Why would you think that?"
Ezra gave a humorless laugh. "Because I can still feel it in the air. Like smoke after fire."
Kai studied him, as if deciding whether to answer. Then he said simply: "Jace and I have history."
"That's not an answer."
"No." Kai's mouth twitched, almost a smile, but not quite. "It's the only one you're getting."
Ezra leaned back against the wall, frustrated. Jace had been nothing but sharp edges since day one, circling him like a predator waiting for weakness. Ezra hated to admit it, but some part of him wanted to know why. Because spite that deep didn't grow out of nothing—it was fed, watered, and left to rot.
And if Ezra was the storm that cracked open whatever had been festering between Jace and Kai, then he needed to know what kind of fire he'd stepped into.
Jace came back an hour later, the door slamming against the frame hard enough to rattle the shelves. His hair was damp, a sheen of rain on his jacket, the smell of cigarettes clinging to him like a second skin.
He froze when he saw Ezra awake. Their eyes met across the room.
Ezra expected another smirk, another cutting remark. But Jace just looked at him—long, unreadable, dangerous in its quiet.
Then his gaze slid past him to Kai. "Got a lead."
Kai stubbed out his cigarette, his movements measured. "Where?"
"Old district. Warehouse row." Jace dropped a folded slip of paper on the table. "They're moving again. You were right."
Ezra watched the exchange, uneasy. There was something in Jace's voice—a sharpness, a weight—that told him this wasn't just about errands or dares anymore.
"What's going on?" Ezra asked.
Both men turned toward him. For a second, it felt like standing between wolves, their gazes pinning him from either side.
Kai broke first. "It doesn't concern you."
"The hell it doesn't," Ezra snapped. He pushed to his feet, anger flaring in his chest. "You keep dragging me deeper into this, testing me, throwing me into situations I don't even understand. If you want me to play your game, then I need to know the rules."
The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.
Jace leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes glinting. "He's got a point, Kai."
Kai's jaw tightened. He stood, his shadow cutting across the room, his presence pressing down like a stormcloud. "The rules are simple, Ezra. You follow when I tell you to. You stop when I tell you to. And you survive."
Ezra held his ground. His heart pounded, but he didn't look away. "And if I want more than survival?"
For the first time, Kai hesitated.
Jace laughed, low and humorless. "Careful, rookie. Wanting more gets you killed faster than anything."
Ezra turned on him. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Jace's smirk faltered. Just slightly. Enough for Ezra to see the crack beneath.
The tension splintered then, sharp as glass. Ezra didn't know if he wanted to scream, run, or push harder until someone broke. But before any of them could say more, Kai grabbed his coat.
"We move at midnight." His voice was steel. "Be ready."
He didn't wait for an answer. The door slammed behind him, leaving Ezra and Jace alone.
The silence stretched. Ezra could feel Jace watching him, feel the weight of something unspoken pressing between them.
Finally, Jace muttered, "You don't get it, do you?"
Ezra glared. "Then explain it."
Jace took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaled smoke, and said nothing. But his eyes lingered, hard and hollow, like he wanted to carve the truth into Ezra's skin just to see if he'd bleed the same.
Ezra realized then that whatever was coming tonight wasn't just another dare.
It was a test. Not of skill. Not of courage.
Of loyalty.
And someone wasn't going to walk away clean.