Kaelen stood where Ace had vanished, spear planted in the dirt, knuckles white around the haft.

  “Damn it,” he muttered.

  The word carried more weight than anger. It carried frustration—the sharp, cutting kind that came from knowing he had been close.

  Too close.

  “He ran,” Kaelen said aloud. “I should’ve finished it.”

  Behind him, Vex was already crouched over the bodies, methodical as a surgeon. He flipped a corpse with his boot, checked the inside of a sleeve, then slit a seam with a small dagger.

  A folded strip of oilskin fell free.

  Roric was dragging two bodies together, sniffing the air like a hunting hound.

  “You did fine,” he rumbled. “That wasn’t a normal bandit.”

  Kaelen turned. “Then why search them now? They’re dead.”

  Vex didn’t look up.

  “Because dead men talk. Just not with their mouths.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  He unfolded the oilskin.

  A rough map marked with charcoal lines and red slashes.

  Caravan routes. Timing marks. Symbols Kaelen didn’t recognize—but the intent was obvious.

  Roric let out a low chuckle. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  Kaelen stepped closer. “What?”

  “These aren’t random raids,” Roric said. “They’re coordinated. Staggered hits. Supply bleed, not slaughter.”

  Vex stood, eyes sharp. “And that symbol Ace wore?”

  He tapped the map.

  “Same mark. Same hand.”

  Kaelen frowned. “You recognize it.”

  “I do,” Vex said flatly. “That crest belongs to the Ashen Talon.”

  Roric’s grin widened. “Figures.”

  Kaelen looked between them. “That means something.”

  Roric cracked his neck. “Means a lot. That clan’s been a thorn in your grandfather’s side for years. Mobile hideouts. Ghost scouts. Always one step ahead.”

  Vex added, “Their leader calls himself Kessel. Slippery. Smart. Likes sending lieutenants to test prey.”

  Kaelen’s jaw tightened as he looked toward the direction Ace had fled.

  “So Ace was—”

  “A blade,” Vex finished. “Not the hand.”

  Roric picked up a token carved from bone, etched with the same mark, and crushed it in his palm.

  “Well,” he rumbled, laughter low and dangerous, “looks like fate finally put them in our path.”

  Kaelen felt something settle inside him.

  Not rage.

  Focus.

  “Where?” he asked.

  Vex pointed to a location on the map—deep in broken terrain, where forest gave way to stone.

  “Hideout. And judging by these notes, they’re planning three more hits within the month.”

  Roric clapped Kaelen on the shoulder, heavy enough to stagger a lesser man.

  “Guess what, boy?”

  Kaelen met his gaze, eyes steady.

  “We’ve got ourselves a hunt.”

  Somewhere far ahead, unseen and unaware, the Ashen Talon sharpened its claws.

  And Kaelen Volkov was already on the trail.