The forest was silent except for the wind cutting through the trees and the faint echo of footsteps crunching over frost-bitten leaves. My breath came in shallow bursts as I crouched lower behind the log, heart hammering so loud I was certain he could hear it.
The Broker’s voice drifted closer, smooth and unhurried, as if he were walking through a garden instead of hunting prey. “You’ve always underestimated me, Emma. You thought you could burn my world down and walk away untouched.” His shoes cracked a twig, the sound sharp and deliberate. “But you were never built for war. You’re too sentimental.”
A bird startled from a branch above, and I flinched. My palms were slick against the metal drive I still clutched. The forest smelled of gunpowder and pine sap, a cruel reminder of the ambush
