Chapter 33 Chapter 33
He looked older than before, more ragged, but the same wary eyes. “You didn’t think the Circle would let me go, did you?” he said quietly. “Raske made me an offer.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened. “You always were good at those.”
Ferenc shrugged. “You were never hard to find. You just thought you were.”
He nodded to the man beside him, who raised the rifle slightly. “Now let’s make this easy.”
Nina’s fingers closed around the strap of the case. The fire in Adrian’s eyes wasn’t anger—it was something colder, deeper.
“No,” he said softly. “Let’s make it fair.”
Ferenc took a step forward.
The air inside the shed thickened, heavy with heat and dust. Adrian didn’t move, didn’t blink. His gun was still raised, the barrel steady on Ferenc’s chest.
“Put it down,” Ferenc said quietly. “You won’t win this time.”
Adrian’s voice was a blade. “You never understood, Ferenc. I don’t need to win. I just need to make sure you lose.”
The man beside Ferenc shifted his rifle. The sound of the safety clicking off cracked the silence.
Nina’s breath caught. Her hand tightened on the strap of the case. The moment stretched — two men facing each other over ghosts that wouldn’t die.
Then Adrian moved.
The first shot exploded through the shed, deafening in the small space. Ferenc dropped to one knee, firing back as splinters burst from the wall. The other gunman ducked behind the doorframe, shouting something in Hungarian.
“Down!” Adrian barked.
Nina hit the floor as another shot tore through the window. Glass rained down. Her pulse thundered in her ears. She crawled behind the old switchboard, heart slamming against her ribs. The smell of gunpowder filled the air.
Adrian fired again — short, precise bursts. A grunt, then silence. The second man’s rifle clattered to the ground outside.
“Two down,” Adrian called. “Ferenc—”
But Ferenc was gone.
The back door slammed open. Footsteps pounded away across the gravel. Adrian started after him, then stopped. “He’s leading them here.”
Nina stood, trembling. “Then we have to go.”
He nodded once, grabbed his pack, and crossed to the window. Through the haze of smoke and dust, movement flickered between the train cars — more men, closing in fast.
“Too many,” he muttered. “They’re flanking.”
“Options?” she asked.
He looked around the shed, eyes sharp, calculating. “One.”
He pointed to the freight line beyond the yard. A train was rolling through, slow, heavy with cargo. “We ride.”
They burst from the shed just as bullets tore through the door behind them. The sound was thunderous — gunfire echoing between the metal cars, ricocheting off rust and glass. Adrian grabbed Nina’s hand and pulled her between the tracks, weaving through the maze of trains.
Sparks flared where rounds hit the rails. The whistle of the freight train cut through everything, deep and mournful.
“Go!” he shouted over the noise.
They ran for it. Gravel slipped under Nina’s boots; her lungs burned. The train was already moving, too fast for reason and too slow for safety. Adrian reached it first, catching the side ladder, hauling himself up with a grimace.
“Come on!”
Nina jumped, fingers catching the cold metal rung. For a second, she dangled, boots scraping the gravel, arms screaming. Adrian reached down, grabbing her wrist and yanking hard. She tumbled into the open cargo car, landing against him. The world tilted; the yard slid past in a blur.
Gunfire followed them, flashes of light between the cars. One bullet pinged off the side of the train, showering sparks. Adrian ducked, pulling her down with him.
“Stay low,” he said. His voice was calm, controlled, but she could see the blood spreading again across his sleeve.
Below, the figures on the ground grew smaller, their shouts fading under the clatter of steel wheels. The train picked up speed, the rhythm of the tracks becoming a steady heartbeat beneath them.
Only when the yard disappeared behind the curve of the hill did Adrian let out a long breath. “We’re clear,” he said.
“For now,” Nina replied.
They sat in the dark of the freight car, chests heaving. Rain still fell, dripping through holes in the roof. The world outside was nothing but blur and noise.
Adrian leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. “Ferenc was supposed to be smarter than this.”
“He sold you out.”
“He sold himself out.” He opened his eyes again, gaze distant. “Raske always makes the same promise—safety for obedience. It never lasts.”
Nina pressed her palms to the cold floor, grounding herself. Her hands were shaking. “How many more like him?”
“Enough to fill every train on this line.”
She swallowed hard. “Then we stop them all.”
He looked at her, something like a smile ghosting across his lips. “You sound like me.”
“Maybe I’m tired of being your shadow.”
“Good,” he said. “I need someone to watch mine.”
The train rattled on through the countryside, fields blurring into forest. The air inside the car smelled of rust and rain, the kind of smell that clung to skin and memory. They didn’t speak for a while. Words felt too small for what they’d just escaped.
When Nina finally looked at him, his eyes were closed again, exhaustion dragging at him. She could see how much pain he was hiding — how much he refused to admit. Without thinking, she reached out and brushed the back of his hand with her fingertips.
His eyes opened instantly. He didn’t pull away.
“You’re bleeding again,” she said quietly.
“So are you,” he murmured, pointing to the cut on her temple she hadn’t noticed.
They both smiled — a small, tired, human thing in the middle of chaos.
The rhythm of the tracks steadied. Outside, the clouds broke just enough for sunlight to cut through, catching his face. For a moment, the world didn’t look like ruin. It looked like an escape.
“What now?” she asked.
“We stay on until dusk. Then we get off before the next station.”
“And after that?”
He hesitated. “After that, we find Raske before he finds us.”
Nina nodded. “Then we finish it.”
“Together,” he said.
She met his eyes. “Always.”
The train thundered on, carrying them east into the light, the yard behind them burning quietly in the distance.