The moon hung thin and sharp over Treviso's rooftops, casting long slivers of silver over the narrow alleys and broken tiles of the old district. Evie and Tai crouched in the shadow of a crumbling chimney, half-swallowed by night and the flickering smoke of the street lanterns below.
Evie leaned forward. Below them, a low stone building sat nestled between a closed wine shop and a spice merchant's storehouse. The windows were shuttered tight. They had followed enough Crows here to know it was one of their hideouts or something.
"Still quiet," Tai murmured beside her, his eyes sharp under his hood. "I'm giving it until the bells. If nothing by then, we move."
Evie didn't answer right away, her gaze fixed downward. Her fingers itched restlessly near her side. She trusted Tai's timing.
After a while, he shifted beside her. "Dinner was good tonight, wasn't it?"
She blinked, glancing over. "It was a pretty good soup," she agreed.
"It was stew," he said, mock-offended. "And yes. You actually ate the whole bowl, which I take as the highest of compliments, given your usual suspicion of vegetables."
"I still think you sneak things in there without telling me."
"That's because I do," he said proudly. "But don't worry, you're growing healthier every day. Soon you'll be able to eat a tomato without flinching."
She made a face at him.
"Progress," Tai said, smirking. "Slow and painful, like all good things."
Just then, the door of the Crow hideout slammed open below.
Both of them snapped into silence, leaning forward in perfect synchronicity.
A figure staggered into the alley, bracing himself against the wall. His cloak was half torn, soaked dark around the shoulder. Blood streaked his jaw, and his left hand hung limp, fingers curled unnaturally.
"Shit," Tai muttered, voice low. "Look at him. He's torn to ribbons."
Evie's eyes narrowed. "I've never seen a Crow return like that."
"They're ghosts when they work," Tai said. "Clean. Precise. This—" He motioned to the staggering figure. "That's messy. That's a problem."
"Failed mission?"
"Or succeeded and paid for it. Either way…" Tai looked sideways at her. "What do you think that's about?"
Evie shook her head slowly. "Don't know. But I'm curious."
They didn't get the chance for any closer investigation. A creak behind them—too close. Evie turned just as a shadow peeled from the dark, a glint of steel catching moonlight.
"Run!" Tai hissed, and they were already moving.
They vaulted from the rooftop, feet slapping on slate and clay tiles. A shout came from behind them, but they didn't look back.
Evie hit the next roof with a roll, straightened, and jumped again. Tai was beside her, fast and agile, cloak whipping behind him. The city blurred into narrow ledges and hanging laundry, steep gutters, stray cats scattering from the chase.
Down a rain-slick stairwell, over a market awning, through a low stone arch—Evie ducked instinctively as a throwing knife hissed past her ear.
Tai grabbed her arm and pulled her sharply left, feet skidding on the slick rooftop as they hurtled down a steep slope of terracotta tile. At the edge, they jumped in unison, flying across a narrow alley to land hard on a wooden balcony. It creaked ominously under their weight but held. Below them came the soft, deadly scuffle of boots. They didn't look. They ran.
Down the balcony stairs, through the back of an empty courtyard, over another wall. A dog barked from somewhere close, setting off another two. They turned again, weaving through laundry lines and scattered baskets of drying herbs, until even their own breathing felt too loud.
Only when they'd slipped into the shadowed alcove behind a shuttered weaver's shop, breath ragged, backs pressed to the wall, did they stop.
Tai tilted his head, listening.
Nothing. No footfalls. No whistles. No steel. Just the breeze sighing over rooftops and the restless chatter of a late-night crowd blocks away.
Evie was frozen, body still thrumming with movement. She touched her ear; it was dry. The knife hadn't cut her. Barely.
Tai looked at her. "Did we lose him?"
She waited a beat longer. Then nodded. "I think so."
They waited another five minutes to be sure, then melted from the shadows and took a long, winding route home — double-backs, side alleys, even through a fishmonger's cold, empty stallhouse just to be extra sure. Only when they were certain — certain — they were alone did they finally head back to their loft.
The air inside was warm, the fire banked low. Hirik and Kieran were still asleep; Hirik was snoring. A horrible sound, but they were all adjusting to it.
Tai dropped his hood as soon as the door shut and leaned against it, hand over his heart. He exhaled and slid down the wall until he was seated, back against the cool brick.
"Remind me to never say 'still quiet' ever again," he muttered.
Evie collapsed beside him, tucking her knees to her chest. "You cursed it."
"I cursed it," he agreed. Then looked at her sidelong. "You all right?"
She nodded slowly. "You?"
"Shaken," he said. "But still irritatingly handsome."
"What do you think? Did they follow us from earlier?"
Did the Crows know someone had been watching them all this time?
"I don't know," Tai admitted. "Could've been patrol. Could've been coincidence."
They sat for a long moment in silence, Evie resting her head on his shoulder.
They still didn't have a plan on how to get the contract on Zevran rescinded; they had considered leverage. Perhaps they could blackmail them into giving them what they want.
Kieran suddenly sat up, the candles in the room flickering to life with his magic.
"Where were you?" Kieran's voice was groggy and edged with worry.
On the mattress beside him, Hirik stirred, his snoring stopped. He sat up as well.
"You were supposed to be back hours ago," Kieran continued, eyes narrowing.
"We got caught," Tai said flatly.
That silenced him.
Hirik blinked, awake now. "By a Crow?"
Evie nodded, grim. "We think so. One of them came up behind us while we were watching the hideout. Threw a blade. Missed me by an inch."
"Too close," Tai muttered, voice low. "Too damn close."
They moved into the cramped kitchen. Hirik set water to boil, and Kieran stoked the coals for heat. Evie leaned on the table. Kieran looked her over sharply.
"You're not hurt?"
"No. Just shaken. They chased us for a while."
"But we lost them," Tai added, rubbing his jaw. "We made sure of it before coming back."
The four of them stood in the flickering candlelight, the silence weighted.
Then Kieran spoke, quiet and measured. "We can't keep doing this."
"We're gathering information," Tai said. "Carefully. Slowly."
"Clearly not carefully enough."
Evie raised her eyes. "We've been watching. Tracking. Avoiding confrontation. We've been good at it."
"And still, they almost caught you."
Hirik sat at the table, arms crossed. "So what? We stop? We've come all this way, done all this work for Zevran, just to back off now?"
"No," Evie said, her voice firm. "But we can't pretend we're invisible anymore. They might be starting to notice."
A beat of silence. The kettle hissed softly.
Then Tai said it. "Maybe we shouldn't stop at information."
They all looked at him.
He met their gazes steadily. "Maybe we do more than just watch."
"You mean… what?" Kieran said warily.
"Start dismantling them," Tai said. "Take the Crows apart. One cell at a time. They've been hunting Father for years. If we want the contract gone for good, it's not enough to plead or hide. Maybe we take them down."
"Tai," Kieran said. "That's—"
"Insane?" He finished. "Probably."
"No," Evie said softly. "Just… bold."
Hirik raised a brow. "You're seriously thinking about this?"
"Why not?" Tai said. "We've already mapped half the hideouts in Treviso. We know how they move. Who their local contacts are. We've seen the contracts being passed."
"And we've seen some of their weaknesses," Evie added. "They don't expect to be hunted. They think they're untouchable."
"We'd be putting targets on our backs," Kieran said.
"They've already painted one on Uncle Zev, and for what? Not killing his soulmate?" Evie said, straightening. "And if they find out who we are, there won't be any safe hiding anyway."
They all went quiet again.
The kettle whined. Tai pulled it off the flame and poured the water.
Kieran sighed, rubbing his temple. "You want to take down an ancient institution that has survived coups, regime changes, wars, rival factions, that is entrenched in politics, nobility, and even the economy."
They looked at him like he hadn't just accused them of wanting to undertake an impossible task.
"We are four stupid people who couldn't even steal a cask of wine without destroying a marketplace," he pointed out.
"We're older now. Wiser," Tai said.
Kieran shook his head, exasperated. Why did he even try? Of course they were going to do it.
"And when we're done dismantling this centuries-old institution, shall we skip on over to Weisshaupt and cure the taint?"
"Sure, why not?" Evie said. "Both my parents will start hearing the call eventually, and I would love it if they were cured."
Kieran pursed his lips at her flippancy. "If we even consider this, we'd need a real plan. Real strategy. We can't just run in swinging."
Tai gave a faint smirk. "You say that like I don't enjoy planning."
"This could be fun," Evie agreed, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.
"We'd need to find cracks," Hirik said, serious now. "People we can turn. Secrets we can use. Maybe even someone in the Crows who doesn't like how things are run."
"We start small," Evie murmured. "One cell. One handler. One lie that spreads like poison."
They looked at one another, tired, wild-eyed, bruised by the night but somehow… alive.
It was just an idea. A wild, impossible idea. But it felt like the first true path they'd had in months.
And the Crows might never see it coming. They also might die, but they were reckless enough to roll those dice.