The ravine had gone quiet.
Too quiet.
The only sounds were the hiss of the river below, the soft crunch of our boots on loose gravel, and Nora’s breathing beside me—steady, measured, unshaken.
My own chest heaved with the weight of exhaustion. My legs felt carved from stone, my arms like lead, but I kept moving because stopping meant death. Stopping meant letting Marcus’s shadows swallow us whole.
And yet… there was a different weight pressing down on me. Not Blacklist, not the fear of being hunted. It was Nora.
The memory of her voice in the depot haunted every step. Not an enemy. Not a friend. Something else.
I wanted to demand answers again, to tear the truth out of her throat if I had to, but each time I opened my mouth, her eyes cut across me. Sharp. Warning. Not yet.
So the si
