The air inside the safehouse was different now. Heavy. Distrust clung to the walls like smoke that refused to clear. No one said it out loud, but the knowledge that Dante’s convoy had slipped through hours before they’d even set their eyes on the map left a sour taste in every mouth. Someone had whispered. Someone had betrayed.
Kael sat at the edge of the table, head bowed, cigarette burning between his fingers. The ember glowed sharp in the dark as he exhaled, silently watching the thin thread of smoke curl and vanish.
Silas leaned against the far wall, arms folded. His silver-streaked hair caught the dim light, his gaze unreadable as it rested on Kael. “The girl is going to break you,” he said at last. His voice wasn’t cruel. It was almost… resigned. “I’ve seen it before. You let fire
