The rain came down in a steady, cold drizzle, the kind that slicked cobblestones and painted the streets of Treviso in a restless sheen of half-light. Evie pulled her hood lower, the damp fabric clinging to her hairline as she moved through the alley with the ease of someone born to the dark. Tai at her side. Her mother had taught them to move silently through forests. Zevran had made sure they could do the same in a city.
Ahead of them, the safehouse crouched, a crooked, forgotten building where the Crows ran messages, counted coin, and erased names. A place no one respectable went after nightfall.
They'd been watching it for weeks.
Tai crouched by the door, glancing back at her with a raised brow. One last chance to call this off.
She shook her head once. No turning back now.
Evie felt her pulse steady, her breathing smooth out. She could hear the rain against the eaves, the distant call of a night bird. No sentries out front. Light in the upper window. One inside, at least. Maybe two.
Evie worked the lock with a scrap of metal and an old hairpin, a trick Zevran taught them when they were ten. Tai kept watch. It took three heartbeats. The door gave under her hand, and they slipped inside, soundless as mist.
They crossed a narrow hall. They didn't bring weapons. They would prefer to avoid bloodshed; they weren't killers. At the end of the hall, a faint glow leaked from a cracked door. Inside, a Crow sat alone, quill scratching against paper. A boy, really, couldn't be much older than them. Pale, with dark curls stuck to his forehead. He looked tired. Ordinary. Evie's throat tightened. He was so young.
Tai slid up beside her, close enough to feel his breath on her ear. Then the boy looked up. His eyes met hers; he was sharp enough to know danger when it walked in. Before the boy could so much as shout, Tai moved. A hand clapped over his nose and mouth, and the boy struggled, kicking against the chair while Evie came up behind and wrapped her arm around his neck, constricting the blood flow to his brain. Between the two of them, they had him out in under a minute. Another neat trick Zevran had taught them. The boy's eyes fluttered and his body sagged. They gently set him on the floor.
Evie swallowed hard, then crossed to the cabinet against the far wall. Four thick ledgers, marked in cypher. She grabbed one, flipping through. Names. Contracts. Payment routes. The veins of the Crow's business. Tai grabbed two more.
Footsteps sounded from the front room. Low voices. Maybe two, maybe three.
Evie jerked her chin toward the back window. Tai crossed to it in a blink, easing it open. The rain outside had picked up, drumming a steady rhythm on the stones.
"Ladies first," Tai whispered.
Evie shot him a heatless glare but obeyed. She slipped through the narrow gap, landing softly in the alley below. The cold bit at her skin, rain soaking through her hood. Tai followed a heartbeat later.
A voice called out inside. Tai grabbed her hand, and they ran, feet splashing through puddles, every movement calculated, every turn a well-rehearsed route. They didn't speak until they reached the ruined tannery four streets over, an old haunt where no one bothered to look anymore.
Tai dropped onto a crumbling crate, breathing hard. His grin was back, wild and sharp. "This was a good night."
Evie leaned against the wall, the stolen ledgers pressing against her ribs in her satchel. Her hands trembled slightly. Not from fear. Adrenaline.
For some reason, she thought of Lucanis, sitting at the tavern, eyes on her like she was the answer to every question he'd ever asked. She thought of Kieran's warning. Of the boy inside. They rarely had to fight anyone; they were usually much more careful. But this was definitely a higher-stakes place to hit.
"Let's go home," Tai said.
-
The chamber was unusually quiet for a gathering of Crows. Viago stood near the hearth, his lean frame tense, flicking a dagger between his fingers with absent precision. Teia lounged against the wall, her sharp gaze betraying none of her thoughts. Illario, for once, sat quiet in his chair, turning a glass of wine slowly between his hands, his usual smug grin absent.
And Caterina presided at the table. She raised her eyes when Lucanis entered, her gaze assessing.
"You're here," she said, no greeting needed.
Lucanis took his seat without ceremony. "What's happened?"
Viago flicked his dagger one last time before driving it point-first into the wooden table. "One of the Grey Lantern safehouses was hit."
Lucanis's brow furrowed. "Who would be foolish enough to take a run at us here?"
"No one we've dealt with before," Teia murmured, voice low. "That's the problem."
Caterina slid a folded parchment across the table to him. "They left with four ledgers. And left our man alive."
That made him pause. He looked up sharply. "Alive?"
Viago snorted. "Unconscious. Breathing. Not a mark on him."
Illario finally spoke, his tone unsettled. "I don't get it. You break into a Crow safehouse, you leave no one alive. That's the way of it."
"No one leaves witnesses," Teia agreed.
Lucanis frowned, the details gnawing at him. "Could be a message."
"Or mercy," Illario offered with a shrug.
"No," Lucanis muttered. "Mercy's too rare in this line of work. Mercy gets you killed. This was… deliberate."
Viago nodded. "Whoever it was knew what they were doing. Clean, fast. The ledgers they took? Nothing random. They left half the others untouched."
Teia's mouth tightened. "Which means they knew what they were looking for."
A cold ripple of unease slid down Lucanis's spine. That was the worst kind of enemy: one who moved like a shadow and struck with precision. No bravado. No mistakes.
He couldn't deny it; it intrigued him.
The chamber fell to a hush as two Crows hauled the boy in, not even twenty, face pale as chalk. He looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.
Caterina didn't spare him a soft moment. "Sit him down."
They dropped him unceremoniously into a chair. His wide eyes darted from Viago's cruel smirk to Teia's cold, appraising stare and finally to Lucanis, who watched him like a hawk sizing up prey.
Caterina leaned forward, steepling her fingers. "Name."
"Serro, First Talon."
"Start talking."
"I - I don't know who they were. I swear it," Serro stammered. "Came out of nowhere. I barely saw a thing."
Viago made a soft, derisive sound. "You expect us to believe you didn't see anything? How many were there?"
Serro's gaze dropped to the floor. "Two… maybe three? I couldn't tell. All dressed in black, hoods up, faces covered. Didn't speak. Not a word."
"Not a word?" Teia asked, voice low and sceptical. "Not a grunt, a curse, nothing?"
"I swear! Nothing. Just… quick hands, faster than anything I've seen. I reached for my knife, and… next thing I knew, I was on the floor."
Lucanis narrowed his eyes. "How'd they drop you?"
Serro swallowed hard. "They… one of them grabbed me, covered my mouth and nose, the other grabbed me from behind. Arm around my neck. I tried to fight, but it- it was like my head was spinning and… everything went black. No blood, no pain. Just...gone."
Caterina's expression barely shifted, though her eyes darkened. "Blood choke," she murmured to herself. Not something most cutthroats used.
"Height?" Viago pressed. "Anything distinctive?"
Serro shook his head, desperate now. "Could've been man, woman, elf—I couldn't tell. Tallish, one of 'em. The other maybe shorter? Both moved like ghosts. Never heard a footstep."
"Clothing?" Teia asked sharply.
"Black. Plain. No markings, no glint of metal, nothing. Not even a belt buckle. Like shadows."
Viago scoffed. "How convenient."
Lucanis spoke before the others could pile on. His voice was quieter but edged with steel. "Why leave you alive, Serro? Only a fool takes a risk like that."
"I don't know," Serro pleaded. "I'd never betray the House. Never. I- I'd cut my own throat before I turned on the Crows."
"Maybe you already did," Viago sneered. "Maybe you're in on it. You let them in."
"No! I swear it!" Serro's voice cracked. "I'd die for the House. I've taken every job, done what was asked, never questioned it."
Caterina watched him like a cat with a cornered mouse. "Would you die for a lie, boy?"
"I didn't do this," he whispered.
A heavy silence settled over the room. Even Illario, who'd been quietly sipping wine in the corner, looked up now, wary.
Lucanis studied the boy. Terror radiated off him in waves. If he was lying, he was the finest actor in Treviso. And that nagging detail - no mark, no mess, just a clean, clinical blood choke and vanished ledgers - it didn't fit a traitor's profile. It fit something else. Something colder.
Caterina waved him away, and the two Crows that flanked him dragged him out with them.
"Keep him under watch," Caterina said at last. "If he so much as pisses in the wrong alley, I want to know."
Caterina sighed and turned back to the others. "No one leaves a Crow alive unless they mean to send a message. Or unless they're not killers by nature."
Viago scoffed. "Could just be a coward."
"Or someone who wants us guessing," Lucanis said, voice thoughtful, fingers drumming against the table. "Someone careful. Precise. Skilled. Not the kind to be chasing coin. Someone with a purpose and enough discipline to leave our boy alive. That's… interesting."
"Interesting," Viago echoed darkly. "It's dangerous."
"Everything's dangerous," Lucanis said with a faint smirk, though his mind was elsewhere. Not on the unknown infiltrators, but on a girl with a voice like spun silk and emerald eyes.
He could almost feel Caterina reading him, but she didn't press.
Teia asked, "Any leads?"
Viago shook his head. "Nothing solid. Whoever it was covered their tracks. No unusual movement at the gates. No one matching our usual lists. We'll widen the net."
Caterina made a soft sound. "Discretion is key. We're not announcing this."
"Of course not," Viago grunted.
"They'll strike again," Lucanis murmured.
"Maybe," Caterina allowed. "But if they do, we'll be ready."
Illario gave a tight grin. "At least it's not dull around here."
Caterina gave him a look that cut his grin short.
Lucanis stood, rolling his shoulders, the tension lingering. "I'll keep my ears to the streets. See what turns up."
Caterina inclined her head. "Good."
As he left, the details turned over in his mind. Whoever had done this wasn't a fool or a thug. The precision, the restraint… it wasn't random.