The air inside the compound tasted like iron.
Lena stepped fully into the open before anyone could stop her—before Brine could call her name, before Tan could reach, before the men with guns remembered how easily a life could end.
"Enough," she said.
Her voice wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
Moody turned toward her slowly, as if he'd known this moment was coming all along. His expression softened—not relief, not victory, but something closer to restraint.
"You shouldn't be here," Brine said sharply, taking one step forward.
Lena didn't look at him.
Not yet.
She kept her eyes on Moody.
"You said you wanted us safe," she said. "All of us."
"I do."
"Then stop hiding."
The courtyard stilled. Even the men seemed to sense the shift—not a standoff anymore, but a choice.
Lena moved closer to Moody until there was barely a foot between them. Close enough to see the faint scar near his temple. Close enough to see the truth he kept buried behind calm control.
"If you want me to walk away with you," she said quietly, "you tell me who you are."
Moody didn't respond.
"What the Silver Mark means," she pressed. "Why men like Tan fear it. Why Brine keeps looking at you like he's counting ghosts."
Brine's jaw tightened.
Tan's breath stuttered.
Moody closed his eyes once.
Just once.
"When you're done," Lena added, voice steady but breaking underneath, "I'll decide. No threats. No cages. I walk because I choose to."
Silence stretched.
Then Moody spoke.
"The Silver Mark," he said, "isn't a symbol."
He reached into his coat and pulled the chain from beneath his shirt. The mark caught the dim light—etched metal, old, deliberate.
"It's a sentence."
He looked at her now.
"It means you've been sanctioned. That the world's worst men have agreed you're necessary—but expendable. You exist to clean what can't be spoken of. To end wars quietly. To erase people who would break everything."
Lena swallowed.
"And you?" she asked.
"I was one of them."
Not am.
Was.
Brine stiffened. Tan's face drained of what little color it had left.
Moody continued, voice even. "The mark meant loyalty without a future. No name. No family. No exit."
"And now?" Lena whispered.
Moody hesitated.
Just enough.
"It means I survived," he said. "That's all."
It wasn't.
But it was the truth he chose.
Lena searched his face, her mind racing—connecting moments, silences, the way danger always bent around him instead of breaking him.
"You're telling me this because…?" she asked.
"Because you deserve one truth," Moody said. "And because if you walk away now, it has to be knowing who you're walking with."
She turned then.
Looked at Brine.
For the first time since the shadows had swallowed him whole, his mask cracked. Not anger. Fear.
"Lena," he said softly. "You don't have to—"
"I know," she replied.
Then she looked at Mr. Tan.
A man who had tried to trade her safety for leverage. For survival.
For himself.
"I won't be your shield anymore," she said.
Tan didn't answer.
He couldn't.
Lena faced Moody again.
"You're lying about something," she said.
Moody didn't deny it.
"But I trust you," she finished. "And I don't trust cages disguised as protection."
She took his hand.
It was warm. Steady.
"I'm walking," she said. "With him."
The decision landed like a gunshot.
Brine's fists clenched—but he didn't move.
Mr. Tan looked between them, calculation burning through his fear.
"Let them go," Brine said finally, to no one and everyone.
Tan hesitated.
Then nodded once.
"Let them go."
Moody didn't gloat. Didn't smile.
He simply turned and led Lena away.
Behind them, the compound exhaled.
Only when they were gone did Brine speak again.
"He's lying," he said.
"Yes," Tan replied. "But not about wanting her alive."
Their eyes met.
For the first time, there was no pretense between them.
"We both thought the other was the threat," Tan said slowly.
"And we were wrong," Brine answered.
Silence.
Then understanding.
"We work together," Tan said. "Against him."
Brine nodded. "Until this ends."
Unseen, from the edge of the trees, Jude lowered his burner phone.
Message sent.
It's serious but You have time. They're aligning.
Moody felt it miles away—the tightening noose, the plans knitting together in the dark.
He didn't stop walking.
Instead, he dialled a number he'd hoped never to use.
Mr Rafferty answered on the second ring.
"You said you wanted leverage," Moody said calmly. "I have Lena. And her siblings."
A pause.
Interest sharpened on the other end.
"I'll hand them over," Moody continued, "when you give me what we discussed."
Rafferty smiled into the silence.
"Then we're back in business."
The call ended.
Moody slipped the phone away.
For the first time since earning the Silver Mark, something like doubt crept in.
The lies were stacking higher now.
And this time—
The fire wasn't just moving.
It was turning on him.