Kira doesn't hear the screaming at first.
It's still dark when Indra pounds on her door. Kira jolts awake, dagger in hand before her eyes even open. She expects to see Lexa. Instead, she finds Indra's shadow in the doorway, armor half-clad, eyes hard.
"Up," Indra barks. "Now."
Kira shoves her feet into her boots, heart drumming in her chest. "What happened?"
But Indra is already gone.
By the time she reaches the lower hall, the whole tower feels alive — buzzing like a hornet's nest kicked open. Guards rush past with blood on their hands. She smells smoke, hot metal, something worse underneath it — scorched meat.
She follows the chaos out into the courtyard. The gates stand open, letting in the bitter dawn. Near the well, a body hangs by its ankles from a crude wooden frame.
Kira stops short, bile rising in her throat.
It's Adena.
Her throat has been cut so deep her head lolls by a strip of skin. Ash marks the raw letters carved into her belly — Traitor.
Indra's voice is a blade behind her. "Azgeda struck before dawn. Slipped past the watch. Left her here as a message."
Kira tastes iron in her mouth. "How did they know?"
Indra glances down at her — unreadable. "They always know. They have eyes in Polis. Same as you."
Kira's stomach twists. The poison. The whisper in the dark. Kerrik was no simple scout — he was a conduit. She'd severed the vein, but the heart still pumped.
"I want their names," Kira says. "Who helped them get through?"
Indra lifts an eyebrow. "You think they'll tell you?"
"I don't care if they do." Kira's voice is cold. "I'll find out."
She feels Indra studying her — weighing the soft girl from the sky show against the thing standing here now. Indra's mouth curves, not quite a smile.
"Good," she says. "You're learning."
✦ ✦ ✦
Lexa forbids retaliation that morning.
In the throne room, the clan ambassadors gather, bristling with suspicion. Eisa's man — thin and oily — weeps crocodile tears about rogue elements, disavows any order from the Ice Queen.
"It was not sanctioned," he drones. "Eisa mourns the loss of our good scout. Kerrik was loyal to the coalition."
Kira wants to drive her dagger through his lying mouth. Instead, she stands at Lexa's shoulder, hands clasped behind her back, fingers twitching for steel.
Lexa listens, impassive. Clarke stands at the other side of the throne, arms crossed tight. Titus hovers behind her like a vulture, lips moving in prayers Kira's sure are for her soul, not his.
When the man finishes, Lexa rises. The hush is immediate — no one breathes when the Commander speaks.
"I will not allow rogue killers to tear apart what we've built," Lexa says, her voice calm. "But know this — every drop of blood shed outside our laws will be answered."
Her eyes flick to Kira — just for a heartbeat. We do this my way.
The meeting disperses like mist under a rising sun. Kira remains rooted to the dais, every part of her thrumming with unspent rage.
When the doors close behind the last ambassador, Clarke rounds on her.
"This is your fault!" Clarke spits. "You killed that scout — now they're hitting back."
"I did what Lexa asked!" Kira shoots back. "You think letting Azgeda run free makes us strong? You want them to slip a blade between her ribs next time?"
Clarke's cheeks flush red. "There are rules, Kira! You can't just—"
"What?" Kira steps forward, her boots slamming the floor. "You can't just kill to protect the people you love? That's rich, coming from Wanheda."
Clarke flinches as if slapped.
Lexa's voice slices the room. "Enough."
They both freeze. Kira's heart sinks when she sees the look on Lexa's face — not anger, but something worse. Disappointment.
Lexa steps between them, eyes hard. "We do not survive by becoming them. If you want to stand by my side, you do it by my law."
Kira wants to say I'd do anything for you. But she can't say it — not when Clarke's eyes burn with betrayal. Not when Titus watches her like she's a snake waiting to strike.
She bows her head instead.
"Yes, Heda."
✦ ✦ ✦
Later, when the throne room is empty, Clarke finds her alone in the corridor.
"You're playing with fire," Clarke says. There's no heat in her voice now — just exhaustion.
"I know," Kira says. She doesn't look at her. "I don't care."
"You think this makes her safer?" Clarke presses. "You think she won't break trying to hold you together and the coalition apart?"
Kira turns, eyes sharp. "Better she breaks than she dies."
Clarke recoils, shocked by the edge in her voice. "Is that what you want for her?"
"I want her alive." Kira's voice cracks. "I want her alive, Clarke. Do you know what it's like to watch her die? I do. I watched it before I ever stepped foot here."
Clarke's breath hitches. "And what do you think happens to you when she's gone?"
Kira laughs — a broken, bitter sound. "There won't be a me."
Clarke shakes her head, stepping closer. "Then don't do this alone. Let me help you."
Kira lifts her chin. "You already had your chance."
She leaves Clarke standing in the hall, the torches flickering like dying stars between them.
✦ ✦ ✦
Titus summons her that night.
She almost doesn't go. But the shadows tug at her, and the dagger under her pillow feels heavier by the hour.
He waits for her in the temple, kneeling before a circle of votive flames. The flame of the commanders flickers behind him, a heartbeat of light in the dark.
"Come," he says without looking up.
Kira steps into the ring of candles. Their light dances across her boots, her hands. She feels the heat like judgment.
"You killed for her," Titus says. "You think that makes you loyal."
"I am loyal."
He lifts his eyes. "No. You are selfish. You love her the way a wolf loves its mate — you would tear down the den to keep her warm."
Kira bristles. "Better a wolf than a lamb."
Titus's mouth twitches. "And what happens when your fangs turn on her? When your fear becomes the blade at her throat?"
"I'd never hurt her."
"You already have." Titus gestures to the temple door. "Blood begets blood. You think you ended a threat — you lit a fuse."
He stands, moving closer until they're inches apart. He smells of smoke and old parchment.
"If you truly want to protect her," he whispers, "learn the ways of the shadows. Learn to strike so the cut never shows. Or leave — before your love damns her."
Kira holds his gaze, cold and steady. "Teach me, then."
Titus's eyes narrow. For the first time, he looks almost… amused.
"So be it."
✦ ✦ ✦
The next days bleed together like ink in water.
Titus tests her mercilessly — poisons hidden in her tea, hidden blades slipped into her pillow. She learns to walk the catacombs beneath Polis, to find a thousand ways to kill and a thousand more to disappear.
Indra drills her by day — knives, bows, traps strung through the woods beyond the wall. Kira's arms ache, her fingers blister, her sleep comes in snatches if at all.
Sometimes, Lexa watches from the ramparts. Sometimes their eyes meet — and Kira wonders if Lexa sees the shape she's becoming. Wonders if she's proud. Or afraid.
At night, they still share the bed — but there's a new distance between them, a hush that feels like a warning.
One night, after another failed test in the catacombs, Kira drags herself to the tower steps. She finds Lexa waiting, a single candle flickering at her side.
"You're pushing yourself too hard," Lexa says.
"I have to be ready."
Lexa studies her bruised knuckles, the dark circles under her eyes. "Ready for what?"
Kira's voice comes out a rasp. "Whatever comes next."
Lexa takes her hands, thumbs tracing the new calluses. "I never wanted this for you."
Kira swallows the lump in her throat. "You didn't want this for you, either."
They sit in silence until the candle burns low. Kira leans into Lexa's warmth, breathing her in, burning the moment into her bones like a prayer.
When she dreams that night, there is no drowning. Only fire, and the slow drift of ash.
✦ ✦ ✦
The next morning, Clarke returns from the border with news that freezes the tower colder than any Azgeda wind.
Another scout is dead — this time one of Trikru's own. Stripped naked, throat slashed, same crude word carved into her chest.
Traitor.
It never ends.
As Kira stands over the body, Titus's voice echoes in her head. Blood begets blood.
And still, in her chest, a fire smolders. Because this is how they'll win — one cut at a time, until there's nothing left to bleed.
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