Jax Kraffon hunted the man who cut his face open and left him to die in the wastes. The scar ran from his brow to his jaw, still tender under his scarf. He had one lead and a stolen silver dagger, but no face to match them. That was the problem gnawing at him. He never saw the warrior clearly. Blood and dust had blinded him. Any man he chased could be the wrong man. The dagger was his only witness. He turned it in the firelight of the iron-plated lodge where hunters drank. A crown was carved above the blade. Jewels lined the handle. Someone had dropped it beside his body. Someone rich. Jax had shown it to a dozen killers here. All of them shrugged. A woman leaned on the bar and watched him do it. Orange and red hair, turquoise eyes, a red dress patched for the road. She was a bandit, and Jax knew her kind stripped the dead for coin. He did not trust her. But she had not looked away from the dagger once. "That blade got a story," she said. "Kayce Brook. And I've seen it before." Jax set it flat on the table. "Then you saw who carried it." Kayce sat without asking. She traced the carved crown with one finger. "Two weeks back. Out past the dead river. A tall man gutted a traveler and dropped his fancy knife in the panic." She met his eyes. "I watched from the rocks. I saw his face." Jax's hand closed hard on the table edge. "Describe him." "A scar over his left eye. Split lip. He shaves his head." She tapped her own cheek. "And he wears a green cloak with a wolf stitched on the back. You don't forget that." Every word landed like a nail. For weeks Jax had chased shadows. Now he had a face. Not a guess. A witness who watched the whole thing from cover. "Where is he," Jax said. Kayce leaned back and smiled. "That'll cost you." "Name it." "He runs with a crew now. Twenty men, maybe more. They took the old fort by the purple willow, upriver." Her smile faded. "I want the dagger when you're done. It's worth more than your life to the right buyer." Jax nodded once. The trade was made. He finally knew the man. Bald head, green cloak, a wolf on his back. No more chasing strangers. But the lead had teeth. His target was not alone anymore. One scarred warrior had become an army behind fortress walls. Jax rose and pulled his scarf tight over his ruined face. He had a face to hunt at last. He would have to walk into twenty men to reach it.

Word of the missing dagger spread faster than Jax expected. He crouched behind a stack of crates near the river road and watched three of the commander's men work a line of travelers. They wore green cloaks with the wolf stitched on the back. They grabbed arms. They pulled down scarves. They stared into every face. If they found Jax first, they would know a stranger had reason to hide, and his one edge would vanish. He kept his scarf up and his crimson eyes low. A hand caught his shoulder from behind. Jax spun, knife half drawn, and stopped. A tall man with white and blonde hair stood over him. He wore a blue and white cloak. He was not one of the wolf crew. He held a folded bundle of white cloth in one fist. "Put the knife away," the man said. "Kayce sent me. Kesean." Jax did not lower the blade. "Why would she send you." "She owns a house upriver. Brick. Empty rooms." Kesean pushed the cloth into Jax's chest. "Wear this. Your eyes and scar give you away." Jax unfolded it. A soft white blouse with a veil layered over the sleeves. He frowned. "This is a woman's shirt." "That's the point." Kesean glanced at the searchers down the road. "They hunt a scarred man. Not this." Jax hated it. But two of the wolf men had turned and started up the road toward the crates. He had seconds. He pulled the veil over his head and let the cloth fall across his lower face. It hid the scar. It softened the shape of him. He tucked his crimson eyes behind the lace and bowed his head. Kesean gripped his arm and walked him into the open, slow, like two friends heading home. A wolf-cloaked man stepped into their path. "Hold. We're searching everyone." Kesean did not stop moving. "She's sick. Fever." He said it flat. "You want it, stand closer." The man looked at the veiled figure. Jax coughed low into the cloth. The searcher stepped back and waved them past. "Go. Go on." They walked until the road bent and the fort fell out of sight. Only then did Jax pull the veil off his face. Kesean led him to the brick house. Tall windows. Ornate trim. A porch with carved posts. He unlocked the double doors. "You stay here. Search dies down in a few days." Jax stepped inside and set the dagger on a dusty table. He had slipped the net. He kept his surprise. But he owed Kayce now, and this quiet man he did not know stood in the doorway watching him. "Why help me," Jax said. Kesean shrugged. "Kayce asked." He paused. "And you'll need a second man at that fort. One won't be enough." Jax looked at him. The hunt had gained a partner. He was not sure yet if that was a gift or a debt.