The compound feels older than the dust clinging to its porch rails.
Not aged.
Burdened.
The wood beneath my boots holds memory — the kind that seeps into bone and refuses to leave.
Lila's shoulder brushes mine as we step onto the porch. Her nerves hum just beneath her skin, quickening the rhythm of her pulse. Kai climbs the steps behind us, boots heavy, presence coiled with unease rather than ease. His silence is not trust. It is calculation.
The door opens.
A man fills the frame.
Broad. Weathered. Eyes carved from violence survived rather than avoided. Relief flashes when he sees her. Then his gaze lands on me. Everything in him locks. Recognition strikes like steel. His hand moves before thought can intervene.
Metal flashes.
A gun rises.
It points straight at my chest.
"You
