The ambush came at dawn.
Not with warning.
With precision.
Damien sensed it a heartbeat before it happened—the birds lifting too suddenly, the air tightening like a held breath.
“Down!” he shouted.
The world exploded.
The lead rider vanished in a spray of dirt and fire. The ground bucked violently beneath Damien’s horse, throwing him hard. He rolled instinctively, shoulder screaming as he hit stone.
Shouts.
Steel.
The sharp hiss of projectiles cutting air.
This wasn’t a warning.
This was removal.
Damien reached for a weapon that wasn’t there.
A mistake.
Pain tore through his side as something slammed into him—blunt, deliberate. He gasped, ribs protesting, vision blurring as he was dragged backward across the ground.
Hands pinned him.
Not frantic.
Efficient.
“Alive,” someo
