The flames ate through the cabin until nothing was left but ash.
By the time the sun fully climbed over the horizon, smoke was already curling high above the trees, visible for miles. The smell clung to them—burnt wood, gunpowder, and memory. Kai led the way through the forest without a word, the weight of what he'd done trailing behind him like a shadow.
Ezra walked a few steps behind. His boots sank into the mud, his mind replaying Ardan's last words over and over. You were bait. He was sent to find you.
Every time Kai glanced over his shoulder, Ezra looked away.
Jace, usually the loudest of the three, was uncharacteristically quiet. He knew better than to break the silence. Sometimes words did more damage than bullets.
By the time they reached the riverbank again, the mist had burned off. The boat rocked gently against the dock, waiting like a loyal animal. Kai climbed in first, checked the engine, then motioned for the others.
Ezra hesitated.
He wasn't sure what scared him more—staying behind or going with them.
"Ezra," Kai said, voice low but firm. "Get in."
Something in his tone—commanding yet fragile—pushed Ezra forward. He stepped in and sat opposite Kai, folding his arms tightly across his chest. Jace untied the rope and jumped in last.
The motor roared to life.
No one spoke.
The forest slowly receded behind them, the smoke fading into a blur. The only sounds were the hum of the engine and the steady rhythm of the current.
After what felt like hours, Jace finally sighed. "We can't go back to the city. Not yet. Too hot. The Syndicate's eyes will be on every road."
Kai nodded. "We'll head south. There's an outpost in Darrow Creek—safehouse from before."
"Assuming it's still standing," Jace said.
"It will be."
That was all Kai said.
Ezra stared at him. He didn't recognize the man sitting across from him anymore. This was someone colder, sharper—someone who had just shot a man without hesitation. And yet, this was the same Kai who had once bandaged his wounds by candlelight, who stayed up all night when nightmares tore him apart.
It was maddening—loving someone you couldn't trust.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Ezra asked suddenly, breaking the quiet. His voice shook, but not from fear. From restraint.
Kai didn't look up. "It wouldn't have changed anything."
"It would've changed everything," Ezra snapped. "You hunted me, Kai! You came into my life under orders. You made me believe it was fate, when it was just... business."
Kai's eyes finally lifted, dark and unreadable. "It stopped being business the moment I disobeyed."
Ezra let out a bitter laugh. "That's supposed to make it better?"
"No," Kai said. "It's supposed to make it real."
Jace glanced between them. "Alright, lovers' quarrel later. Focus now, yeah? We're sitting ducks on open water."
Neither of them answered.
The tension hung thick—heavy enough to taste. Ezra turned his gaze to the horizon, jaw tight. He could feel Kai watching him, but he didn't give him the satisfaction of turning around.
They reached Darrow Creek by nightfall.
The outpost was exactly as Kai remembered—half-buried in vines, hidden beneath the ruins of an old rail station. To the outside world, it was nothing but another forgotten skeleton of war. Inside, though, it still breathed—the faint hum of generators, the flicker of low lights, the smell of metal and oil.
Jace was the first to step in, scanning the corners with his rifle. "Still cozy. No corpses. I'll take it."
Kai dropped his pack and started checking the comms table. Most of the equipment was outdated, but a few lines still hummed with power. "We'll stay here tonight. Move again in the morning."
Ezra stood by the door, refusing to sit. "And then what? Keep running?"
Kai didn't answer. He fiddled with a broken transmitter, his expression unreadable.
Jace kicked off his boots, sinking onto a couch that looked older than all of them. "You two need to talk before one of you explodes. Preferably not near me."
Kai's eyes flicked to Ezra. "He's right."
Ezra gave a short, sharp laugh. "You don't get to say that. Not after—" His voice cracked. "Not after everything."
Kai stepped closer. "Ezra—"
"Don't." Ezra's voice was low, raw. "You had every chance to tell me. Every night we talked, every time I told you things I've never said to anyone—you had the truth and you let me fall for a lie."
Kai didn't move. "I didn't plan to fall too."
Ezra's chest tightened. "You expect me to believe that?"
"I don't expect anything," Kai said softly. "But I need you to understand something: I was sent to find you, yes. To report, to observe. And I did. Until the day they ordered me to kill you."
Ezra froze.
Kai's voice dropped to a whisper. "I didn't. I ran."
The air between them shifted, heavy and fragile all at once.
Ezra searched his face for a sign of deceit, some flicker of manipulation—but all he saw was exhaustion. The kind that comes from fighting a war no one else sees.
"You should've told me," Ezra said finally, quieter this time. "You owed me that."
"I know," Kai said. "And if I could go back, I would. But right now, we don't have time for guilt. Ardan was right about one thing—someone else is pulling the strings."
Ezra frowned. "You think the Syndicate's still active?"
Kai's jaw clenched. "I know it is."
Jace leaned forward. "Then we've got a problem. Because if Ardan was this connected, his death just lit a beacon straight to us."
Ezra rubbed his temple. "So what now? Hide and hope they forget?"
Kai looked up, a dangerous calm in his eyes. "No. We hunt."
Jace whistled. "Here we go again. You always did love making life complicated."
"This isn't about me anymore," Kai said. "They went after him—" he nodded toward Ezra "—to get to me. That ends now."
Ezra stared at him, conflicted. "And what if this gets you killed?"
Kai's lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. "Then at least it'll mean something."
Ezra's throat tightened. He wanted to scream, to tell him that meaning didn't matter if it ended in blood. But before he could speak, a faint click echoed through the room.
They all froze.
The sound had come from the comms table.
Kai turned slowly. The transmitter light—the one that had been dead minutes ago—was blinking.
Jace stood instantly, gun raised. "Tell me that's not what I think it is."
Kai stepped closer, reading the frequency display. "It's a live signal."
Ezra's stomach twisted. "Someone's listening?"
"Worse," Kai said quietly. "Someone's calling."
The radio crackled. Static first, then a voice—smooth, calm, and horribly familiar.
"Miss me?"
Ezra's blood ran cold.
Jace muttered, "You've got to be kidding me."
Kai's hand tightened around the transmitter. "Ardan's dead."
The voice on the other end chuckled. "Oh, Kai. You killed a decoy. The real Ardan died two years ago. But it's cute you thought otherwise."
Ezra felt the world tilt. "That—wasn't him?"
"Oh, it was one of him," the voice said. "He was never one man. He was an idea. A message we kept alive through others."
Kai's knuckles went white. "Who is this?"
"Let's just say," the voice purred, "the Syndicate isn't gone. It's evolving. And you're standing in one of our old nests, which means we've already got your scent."
The line went dead.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then Jace whispered, "We need to move. Now."
Kai stared at the transmitter, his reflection flickering in the dull red light. "They're already here."
Ezra's voice shook. "How do you know?"
The distant sound of engines answered for him.
Dozens of them.
Kai turned toward the door, eyes sharp, gun drawn. "Because ghosts don't make calls. Soldiers do."
The ground trembled.
Outside, headlights cut through the dark forest. The Syndicate wasn't sending scouts this time—they were sending an army.
Kai looked back at Ezra—really looked at him—and something unspoken passed between them. A promise. A warning. A goodbye.
"Stay behind me," he said.
Ezra nodded once, voice barely a whisper. "Don't die on me."
Kai's mouth twitched. "Not planning to."
The first shots rang out, echoing through the ruins like thunder.
And in that chaos—in that impossible, terrifying moment—Ezra realized something: love and death had finally found the same heartbeat.