COLD RECKONING

The Fall

The world spun.

Rice hit the awning first—a canvas canopy over a shuttered café entrance that slowed his descent just enough to keep the fall from killing him. The fabric tore under his weight, and he crashed through, landing hard on the cobblestones below. The impact drove the air from his lungs, sent shockwaves of pain through his already battered body.

For a moment, he couldn't move. The sky spun above him, gray and indifferent. Snowflakes drifted down, landing on his face, melting against his skin. He tasted blood in his mouth.

Then Eliana was there, pulling him to his feet, her hands urgent.

"Move," she hissed. "They're coming."

Rice forced his legs to work. Pain flared in his left ankle—sprained, maybe cracked—but he pushed through it. They ran, stumbling through the narrow streets of the Old Town, the sound of shouting echoing behind them.

Gunshots. Bullets whined past, chipping stone from the walls. Rice ducked instinctively, pulling Eliana into a side alley. They ran deeper into the maze of streets, past shuttered shops and darkened doorways. The shouts faded, then disappeared entirely.

They stopped in a small courtyard, both of them gasping for breath. Rice leaned against a wall, his chest heaving. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by a deep, bone-crushing exhaustion.

"They knew we were coming," Eliana said, her voice ragged. "Someone tipped them off."

Rice shook his head, still trying to catch his breath. "Marek."

"Maybe. Or someone else. It doesn't matter now." Eliana looked around, orienting herself. "We need to get out of the city. Regroup. Figure out another approach."

Rice pushed off the wall, testing his ankle. It hurt, but it held. "There's no other approach. Voss is gone. She'll disappear again, and we'll spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders."

"So what do you suggest?"

Rice didn't answer immediately. He was thinking, his mind racing through possibilities. Voss had anticipated the attack—she'd been ready, waiting. But she hadn't killed them. She'd let them escape. Why?

Because she wanted them alive. She wanted to watch them suffer.

"Voss isn't running," Rice said slowly. "She's hunting. She knew we'd come after her, and she set a trap. But she didn't spring it fully. She wanted us to get away."

"Why?"

"Because she's not done with us yet." Rice's jaw tightened. "She wants to draw this out. Make us pay for what we did to Sterling."

Eliana's face was pale in the dim light. "So what do we do?"

"We go back. Now. Before she has time to regroup."

"Rice, that's insane. The townhouse is crawling with guards. We barely made it out alive."

"I know." Rice met her eyes. "But she won't expect us to return. Not this soon. We have the element of surprise."

Eliana stared at him for a long moment. Then she laughed—a short, bitter sound. "You're going to get us killed."

"Maybe. But I'm not letting her escape. Not after everything."

Eliana's expression softened. She reached out, touching his face, her fingers cold against his skin. "You're a stubborn bastard, Dominic Rice."

"So I've been told."

She pulled her hand back, her jaw setting with determination. "Fine. But we do this my way. Quiet, careful, no heroics. We find Voss, we finish her, and we get out."

Rice nodded. "Agreed."

They moved back through the streets, keeping to the shadows. The townhouse was visible in the distance, its windows still lit. Guards were visible at the entrance, their weapons ready. Rice counted four—two at the front door, two more patrolling the perimeter.

"The back entrance," Eliana whispered. "There's a service door near the kitchen. It's less guarded."

Rice followed her, moving along the side of the building. The service door was exactly where she'd said—a small, unmarked entrance half-hidden behind a stack of crates. A single guard stood watch, his back to the alley.

Rice moved silently, covering the distance in seconds. He wrapped an arm around the guard's throat, cutting off the airway. The man struggled briefly, then went limp. Rice lowered him to the ground and dragged him behind the crates.

Eliana picked the lock, her fingers quick and sure. The door swung open, revealing a dark corridor beyond. They slipped inside, closing the door behind them.

The townhouse was quiet now—the chaos of their escape had faded, leaving behind an eerie stillness. Rice moved through the kitchen, the Glock raised, his senses sharpened. The house was huge, a maze of rooms and corridors. Finding Voss would be difficult.

They found her in the main salon.

She was sitting in a high-backed chair, facing the door, as if she'd been waiting for them. The room was dim, lit only by a single lamp. Katherine Voss looked different now—her hair was shorter, darker, and there was a scar on her cheek that hadn't been there before. But her eyes were the same. Cold. Calculating. Utterly without mercy.

"I was wondering when you'd come back," she said. "You're predictable, Rice. That's always been your weakness."

Rice raised the Glock, aiming at her chest. "It's over, Voss. Sterling is dead. Meridian is finished."

Voss smiled. It was a terrible smile, devoid of warmth. "Meridian is far from finished. Sterling was one man. An important man, but replaceable. The organization will survive."

"Not if we expose you. Not if we burn it all down."

"You've already tried that. And yet here I am." Voss leaned forward, her eyes glittering. "You can't beat us, Rice. We're everywhere. In your governments, your militaries, your intelligence agencies. You'll never know who to trust."

Rice's finger tightened on the trigger. "Then I'll just have to kill you all."

Voss laughed. "You'll die trying."

The door burst open. Guards flooded into the room, their weapons raised. Rice fired, the suppressor coughing. One guard went down. Then another. Eliana was firing too, her pistol cracking in the confined space.

Rice dove behind a sofa, pulling Eliana with him. Bullets tore through the furniture, sending splinters flying. The room filled with smoke and the smell of cordite.

"We need to move!" Eliana shouted.

Rice nodded. He fired twice more, forcing the guards back, then scrambled toward a side door. Eliana followed, laying down cover fire. They burst through the door and into a narrow corridor.

Voss was already gone—escaped through a hidden passage behind the chair. Rice cursed, but there was no time to search. The guards were right behind them.

They ran through the townhouse, firing as they went. The corridors were dark, the walls closing in. Rice's lungs burned, his ankle screamed, but he didn't stop. Eliana was beside him, her face set with grim determination.

They found an exit—a window overlooking the courtyard. Rice smashed it with the butt of the Glock and climbed through. Eliana followed, dropping to the ground beside him.

The courtyard was empty. The snow was falling again, thick and silent.

They ran into the night, the sounds of pursuit fading behind them.

---

They didn't stop until they reached the safehouse.

Marek was gone—the apartment was empty, his maps and equipment still scattered across the table. Rice checked the rooms, but there was no sign of him. Either he'd fled, or he'd been taken.

"He sold us out," Eliana said, her voice flat. "He must have."

"Maybe." Rice collapsed onto a chair, his body finally giving out. "Or maybe Voss knew all along. Maybe she wanted us to come."

Eliana sat across from him, her face pale. "What now?"

Rice stared at the wall, his mind blank. They'd failed. Voss was still out there, Meridian was still operational, and they were no closer to ending this than they'd been in Vienna.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know."

The words hung in the air, heavy with defeat.

---

The ambush had failed, and Voss had escaped. With their contact gone and the enemy alerted, could Rice and Eliana find another way to end this—or had they finally run out of moves?