The wind shifted just as Amira stepped out of the old stone cathedral, brushing cold fingers across her cheek. Prague at night was a different world entirely quiet, ancient, and watching her with the eyes of a thousand forgotten ghosts. The city breathed secrets. She could feel them pressing against her skin.
Her phone buzzed in her coat pocket.
Unknown Number:
You're late. Again.
Her heart didn't speed up, but her chest tightened. Only one person would speak to her like that someone who thought they still had the right to.
Leonardo.
But the number wasn't his.
She typed quickly.
Amira:
Who are you?
A moment passed. Two. Then:
Unknown:
Someone who knows where he went after he left the warehouse.
Her pulse sharpened.
She spun around, scanning the narrow street, the parked cars, the dark corners where shadows pooled like spilled ink. Nobody. Only the glow of streetlamps and the distant rumble of a tram.
"Show yourself," she murmured under her breath.
Nothing answered her except the wind.
She began walking, her heels clicking softly on cobblestone. The city felt too quiet suddenly. Even the tourists had vanished, leaving her alone with the night.
Her phone buzzed again.
Unknown:
Turn left. Do not run.
Her jaw clenched. She hated being controlled. But she turned.
The alley she stepped into was narrow, barely wide enough for a delivery truck. Old brick walls rose on both sides, stained by rain and age. A single broken lamp flickered at the end, throwing shadows that wavered like living things.
A man stood beneath it.
Hood up. Hands in pockets. Too relaxed.
Amira didn't step closer. "Who are you?"
He didn't answer. He only lifted his head slightly, and the faint light revealed a jaw covered in stubble and eyes so cold they looked carved from winter itself.
"I'm a messenger," he finally said. "Nothing more."
"From who?"
"Not who," he corrected. "What."
A chill slid down her spine.
"What does that mean?"
"You're getting too close," he said simply. "The Syndicate doesn't like that."
She stiffened.
So this was about Leonardo.
She kept her voice steady. "If they didn't like my investigation, they would've sent someone less chatty."
His lips twitched. "Who said I came to warn you?"
His hand moved slightly.
Amira reacted first.
She grabbed the small blade hidden against her thigh and flicked it open in less than a breath. "Don't."
He lifted his hands calmly. "I'm not here to kill you."
"Then what do you want?"
"To give you a message." He stepped forward, each movement measured. "Leonardo made a mistake. He thinks he can outrun the blood pact he swore years ago. But you chasing him… that's making things worse."
Her grip tightened.
"He didn't choose this," she said quietly. "They forced him."
"Everyone is forced into something," the man muttered. "Even you."
His gaze dropped to the blade she held. "Do you think he would want you here? Wandering around Prague at midnight? Risking your life because of him?"
He stepped even closer. Too close.
She didn't move, didn't flinch, but her pulse hammered hard enough that she felt it in her fingertips.
"What's your message?" she asked.
His voice lowered, almost gentle too gentle.
"Stop looking for him."
"And if I don't?"
His expression changed just slightly. Not anger. Not annoyance.
Pity.
"They'll use you, Amira," he said. "They'll use you to break him."
Something inside her twisted painfully.
She swallowed. "Where is he?"
For the first time, the man looked unsettled.
"I don't know," he admitted. "That's the problem. Nobody does. He disappeared. Off-grid. Even the Syndicate can't trace him."
Her breath caught.
Leonardo… hiding from them?
Not working for them?
The ground felt unsteady beneath her for a heartbeat.
"But they know something," the man continued. "Something he took with him. Something he shouldn't have."
"What?"
He hesitated.
"An archive," he said finally. "A list of names. Every traitor inside the Syndicate. Every government contact. Every deal. Every payment. Every buried corpse."
Her blood froze.
He added softly, "Enough evidence to burn them all to ash."
Her heart pounded.
"Leonardo stole that?"
"He was supposed to destroy it," the man whispered. "Instead, he ran."
Amira felt the world tilt.
Leonardo wasn't a criminal.
He was trying to take the Syndicate down.
But alone.
And hunted.
"Why are you telling me this?" she asked.
The man exhaled shakily. "Because if they find you first, they'll make you tell them everything you know. And you…" His eyes softened in a way that unsettled her. "You're too loyal. You'd die before you betray him."
His phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen.
His expression shifted fear flickering across his face.
"I have to go."
"Wait"
But he stepped back instantly, fading into darkness like a phantom.
"Stay out of this, Amira," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Before they decide you're the easiest way to break him."
Then he was gone.
Just gone.
The alley felt colder. The air heavier. Her hand shook slightly as she lowered the blade.
Her phone buzzed.
Not the unknown number.
A new one.
A single message.
Leonardo:
You shouldn't have come to Prague.
Her breath caught sharply.
Tears stung her eyes before she could stop them.
Not because she was afraid.
But because the message meant he was alive.
And watching her.
Somewhere close.
She typed with trembling fingers.
Amira:
Then stop running.
Three dots appeared.
Then vanished.
Then appeared again.
She held her breath.
Finally, a reply came.
Leonardo:
I'm not running from them.
I'm running from what they'll do to you if I stay.
Amira closed her eyes.
"Too late," she whispered into the empty night. "They've already found me."
But she typed something else.
Amira:
I'm not leaving you alone. Not now. Not ever.
The typing bubble flickered on the screen for a long, long time.
Then it disappeared.
And he didn't reply again.
But Amira didn't turn back.
She walked deeper into the city.
Into the darkness.
Into the next layer of the truth.
And she knew
This was no longer a chase.
It was a war.