The cold was a physical blow, worse than the mountains, worse than the blizzard. It seeped from the frozen ground beneath Kara and Rosa, leached through their thin clothes, and settled into their bones with cruel persistence. Huddled together behind the tumble of boulders, the silence left by Mateo's final shotgun blast and the pistol shot that silenced him was a suffocating shroud. Rosa wept silently, her small body wracked with tremors that had nothing to do with the temperature. Kara held her tight, her own tears frozen tracks on her cheeks, her gaze fixed unseeingly on the darkening silhouette of the hut through the rocks.
She hadn't seen Mateo fall. But she'd heard the shot. The finality of it. Another death laid at Lorenzo's feet. Another life extinguished because of her name. Because she'd sought sanctuary. The crushing guilt over Dante merged with this fresh, raw agony. She'd run. Again. And good people died.
Voices drifted from the hut, harsh and triumphant. Laughter. The sound scraped against Kara's raw nerves. They were desecrating Mateo's home. Looting. Celebrating their murder. The image of the kind old man lying on his own packed earth floor, the scent of herbs and stew replaced by cordite and blood, ignited a furnace in Kara's chest. The cold numbness shattered, replaced by a white-hot fury so intense it burned away the tears. The revolver, clutched forgotten in her hand, felt suddenly alive, a conduit for the inferno raging inside her.
*Center mass. Don't hesitate.* Dante's voice, cold and clear, cut through the roar of her anger. *Uncontrolled anger is dangerous.*
She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing air into her frozen lungs. Rosa whimpered against her shoulder. The girl. She had Rosa. Mateo's last act, his sacrifice, had been for Rosa's escape. Kara couldn't throw that away. Not for vengeance. Not yet.
The voices grew louder, closer. Flashlight beams swept the snow outside the hut, probing the tree line, glinting off the rocks near their hiding place. "...check the rocks! The old man said something about rocks..." one voice growled.
Panic, sharp and immediate, sliced through Kara's fury. They were coming. She looked down at Rosa's terrified face. Mateo's instructions echoed: *The rocks. Hide. Stay silent as a stone.*
"Rosa," Kara whispered, her voice barely audible, rough with cold and suppressed rage. "We have to move. Deeper into the rocks. Now. Like your Abuelo said. Silent. Like shadows."
Rosa nodded, her eyes wide with terror but trusting. Kara scanned the jumble of boulders behind them. The crevices and shadows deepened as twilight surrendered to full night. She spotted a narrow gap between two massive slabs, partially obscured by a snowdrift. "There," she pointed. "Crawl in. Don't make a sound."
She helped Rosa scramble into the dark fissure, then squeezed in after her. It was cramped, icy, the stone pressing in on them from all sides. They curled together, Rosa burying her face against Kara's chest, trying to stifle her shivering sobs. Kara wrapped her arms around the girl, pulling her cloak tighter around them both. She held the revolver ready, pointing towards the narrow opening, her finger resting beside the trigger. Her breath fogged in the freezing air.
Boots crunched on snow, perilously close. Flashlight beams danced over the boulders, illuminating the snowdrift near their hiding place. Kara held her breath, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Rosa trembled violently.
"¿Algo?" *Anything?* A voice asked, right outside their crevice.
"Nada. Solo piedras y nieve." *Nothing. Just rocks and snow.* The beam swept away. "El viejo mintió. La chica no está aquí." *The old man lied. The girl isn't here.*
"O se escapó. Lorenzo no estará contento." *Or she got away. Lorenzo won't be happy.*
"Bah. Ella no irá muy lejos. Congelada o comida por lobos antes del amanecer." *Bah. She won't get far. Frozen or wolf food by dawn.* The voice held a cruel satisfaction. "Revisemos la cabaña otra vez. A lo mejor hay algo de valor." *Let's check the hut again. Maybe there's something of value.*
The boots crunched away, the flashlight beams receding towards the hut. Kara slowly let out the breath she'd been holding, her muscles trembling with the release of tension. Rosa's trembling eased slightly. They listened as the men ransacked the hut further, their coarse laughter and shouted orders echoing faintly in the cold night air. After what felt like an eternity, the sounds faded. An engine coughed to life, then receded down the mountain track.
Silence descended again, deeper and more absolute than before. The only sounds were the sigh of the wind through the rocks and Rosa's quiet, hitching breaths.
Kara waited another agonizing hour, shivering in the icy tomb of the crevice, listening intently. Nothing. The hunters had moved on, convinced she wasn't there or wasn't worth freezing for. She gently disentangled herself from Rosa.
"Stay here," she whispered. "Just for a minute. I need to see."
Rosa clutched her arm. "Don't go!"
"Just to the edge. I promise. Be silent."
Kara crawled out of the crevice, her stiff limbs protesting. The cold hit her like a physical wall. She crept to the edge of the rocks overlooking the hut clearing. The sight stole her breath.
The hut's door hung splintered and broken. Smoke, thick and greasy, billowed not from the chimney, but from the interior. Orange flames licked hungrily at the roof, casting a hellish glow on the snow. Lorenzo's men hadn't just murdered Mateo; they'd burned his home. His sanctuary. His life.
Kara stood frozen, watching the fire consume the last remnants of warmth and kindness she'd known. The flames reflected in her eyes, not with tears this time, but with a cold, hard light. The fury was back, tempered now by the icy wind and the sight of utter desecration. It wasn't a blaze; it was a forge. And in its heat, the last vestiges of Kara Kecent, the grieving daughter, the terrified girl, were incinerated.
She turned away from the burning pyre. Vengeance wouldn't warm Rosa. It wouldn't bring back Mateo or Dante. Survival was the only debt she could pay right now. She crawled back into the crevice.
"They burned it," she whispered, her voice flat, devoid of emotion. "They're gone. We need to move. Find shelter. Or we freeze."
Rosa nodded mutely, fresh tears welling, but she didn't protest. Kara helped her out. They stood for a moment in the freezing darkness, the heat from the burning hut a cruel mockery on their faces. Kara scanned the moonlit landscape, the black bulk of the mountains against the star-strewn sky. Mateo had mentioned a place – the rockfall. Where he'd told Rosa to run. It was their only hope.
"Where, Rosa?" Kara asked, gripping the girl's shoulders. "The rockfall Abuelo spoke of? Can you find it?"
Rosa sniffed, wiping her nose with her sleeve. She looked around, her young face pale but focused in the moonlight. She pointed north, up a steep slope dotted with larger boulders. "There. Behind the big ridge. Like a giant's broken teeth. There are… caves. Small ones. Abuelo showed me. For bad storms."
"Good girl," Kara said, the words feeling strange on her tongue. "Lead the way. Slow and quiet. Step where I step."
They moved through the moonlit snow, two small figures against the vast, indifferent mountains. Kara kept Rosa slightly ahead, her own senses straining for any sound of pursuit, her hand never far from the revolver. The climb was brutal, the deep snow exhausting, the cold sapping their strength with every step. Rosa stumbled often, weakened by shock and grief. Kara helped her up each time, her own bruised ribs screaming, the anger a steady flame that fueled her movements when her body wanted to collapse.
Finally, they crested a ridge. Below them, as Rosa had described, lay a chaotic jumble of massive boulders, tumbled as if by a titan's fist. It looked like the aftermath of an avalanche, frozen in time. Rosa pointed towards the base of the pile. "There. See? Dark holes."
Kara saw them – narrow openings between the colossal rocks, leading into deeper darkness. They scrambled down, Kara choosing the largest, most sheltered-looking entrance. She peered inside. It was a shallow cave, barely more than a deep overhang beneath two leaning boulders, but it was dry, shielded from the wind, and blessedly free of snow inside.
"Here," Kara said, ushering Rosa in. "Get in. Get as deep as you can."
They huddled together in the deepest recess of the stone alcove. The cold was still intense, but the biting wind was gone. Kara pulled the thick wool cloak Rosa wore tighter around them both. She rubbed the girl's arms and back vigorously, trying to generate warmth. "We need a fire," Kara murmured, more to herself. "But we can't risk the smoke. Not yet."
Rosa nodded, her teeth chattering. Kara rummaged in the small pack Rosa had instinctively grabbed before fleeing the hut – a child's habit of holding onto something familiar in chaos. Inside, Kara found a precious treasure: a small, half-eaten loaf of Mateo's dense bread, a wedge of hard cheese wrapped in cloth, and a small waterskin. Kara almost wept with relief. She broke off pieces of bread and cheese, forcing Rosa to eat, then eating some herself. The simple food was life-giving. They shared the water sparingly.
As the immediate edge of cold and hunger dulled slightly, Kara's mind churned. The hut was gone. Mateo was gone. Dante was likely dead. Lorenzo's men knew she was in these mountains. Rosa was her responsibility now. She couldn't stay here forever. But where could they go? Cities were traps. Borders were watched. The mountains were vast, but Lorenzo's resources were vast too.
She pulled Dante's Zippo lighter from her pocket. Her father's lighter. She flicked it open. The flint sparked uselessly. Empty. Like her options. She looked at the revolver. Five rounds left. Not an army. A last resort.
Then, her fingers brushed against the small, hard lump in her other pocket. The radio earpiece. The one from Dante's pack. Useless without the main unit… which was likely lost or destroyed. But Dante had mentioned it could scan police bands… A desperate, reckless idea sparked.
"Rosa," Kara whispered. "I need to try something. Stay here. Stay quiet. I'll be right outside the cave."
Rosa looked terrified but nodded. Kara crawled to the entrance of the small cave, staying in the deep shadow. She pulled out the earpiece. It was a tiny, flesh-colored bud. She inserted it into her ear. It felt cold and alien. She had no idea how to activate it without the main unit. Dante had simply tapped his ear. She pressed it firmly, held her breath, and listened.
Static. Harsh, white noise. She almost pulled it out in despair. Then, faintly, beneath the hiss, she caught fragments of voices. Disjointed. Fading in and out. Police chatter, she guessed, distorted by the mountains and the earpiece's limitations. She strained, turning her head, pressing the earpiece deeper.
"...units converge... coordinates confirmed... survivor located..."
Survivor? Her heart leapt. *Dante?*
"...repeat, suspect Dante Vázquez... heavily injured... in custody... transport to Granada Central... under heavy guard..."
Granada Central. The main prison? Dante was alive! Captured, but alive! A surge of fierce, unexpected joy warred with dread. Lorenzo wouldn't let him stay in custody. He'd want Dante dead. Slowly.
"...search for Kara Kecent... considered armed and extremely dangerous... last seen Sierra de Almijara... believed accompanied by minor female... Rosa Fernández... granddaughter of victim Mateo Fernández..."
Rosa whimpered softly behind her. Kara's jaw tightened. They knew about Rosa. They were looking for both of them.
"...Lorenzo Márquez... person of interest... whereabouts unknown... caution advised... connections to Guardia Civil..."
The transmission faded into static, then cut out completely. Kara pulled the earpiece out, her mind racing. Dante was alive. In Granada. Lorenzo was still out there, hunting her, his reach extending even into the police. And she and Rosa were labeled armed and dangerous fugitives.
She crawled back into the shallow cave. Rosa looked at her, eyes wide with unspoken questions in the dim moonlight filtering through the entrance.
"They found Dante," Kara said, her voice low and tight. "He's hurt. But he's alive. They took him to Granada. To prison."
Rosa's eyes widened further. "Alive? But… the bad men…"
"The other bad men, Lorenzo, he'll want Dante dead," Kara stated flatly. "And they know about us, Rosa. They know your name. They know we're together. They're looking everywhere."
Rosa shrank back, fear etching her young face anew. "What do we do?"
Kara looked at the girl, then out at the moonlit jumble of boulders, the vast, hostile mountains beyond. The burning hut was a dull glow on the horizon now, a funeral pyre for innocence. She looked at her father's lighter, useless in her hand. She looked at the revolver, its cold weight a promise. She thought of Dante, imprisoned because he'd shielded her. Because of a debt to her monstrous father. A debt she now inherited.
Mateo's words echoed: *You are not the storm, Kara Kecent. You are the branch that broke.*
But branches could be sharp. They could be hardened by fire. They could be weapons.
A cold resolve settled over Kara, deeper and more certain than the mountain cold. The grief, the guilt, the fury – they didn't vanish. They fused into a single, unbreakable purpose. Running was over. Hiding was temporary. Lorenzo wanted her erased. He wanted Dante dead. He'd taken everything.
He hadn't taken *her*.
"First," Kara said, her voice surprisingly steady, "we survive tonight. We stay warm. We stay hidden." She pulled Rosa closer, sharing her body heat. "Then, tomorrow, we move. We find a way down. We find supplies."
"And then?" Rosa whispered, clinging to her.
Kara stared out into the darkness, towards the unseen city of Granada. The flames of the burning hut reflected in her eyes, not as destruction, but as a beacon.
"And then," Kara said, her voice a low vow carried on the freezing wind, "we go to Granada. We find Dante. And we make Lorenzo Márquez pay for every drop of blood. For your Abuelo. For my family. For everything."
The debt was no longer her father's. It wasn't even Dante's anymore. It was hers. A debt of blood and fire. And Kara Kecent, the broken branch hardened in the forge of loss, intended to collect it in full. The girl who loved poetry was gone. The avenger, forged in ashes and embers, had taken her first step into the darkness.