The Hunt Begins
669 Words
Kael moved before Lyra fully understood what was happening.
His hand caught her shoulder and pulled her down just as the arrow cut through the air above her, fast enough that she felt the wind of it against her skin before it embedded itself deep into the tree behind them with a sharp, splintering c***k.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
That hadn’t been a warning shot.
That had been meant to kill.
“Stay close,” Kael said, his voice low, already shifting from controlled to lethal.
Lyra pushed herself up, her gaze snapping toward the direction the arrow had come from, her senses straining as the forest—quiet just moments ago—now felt alive with movement.
They weren’t alone.
Four figures emerged from the trees, not rushing, not hiding, but stepping into view with deliberate calm.
Not rogues.
That was the first thing she noticed.
Their formation was too precise, their spacing too intentional, as though they had trained to move together, to cover each other’s blind spots, to control the field before the fight even began.
Kael straightened slightly in front of her.
“I was wondering when they’d find me,” he said.
Lyra’s gaze flicked to him.
“You know them?”
“No,” he replied. “But I know what they are.”
That didn’t sound better.
One of the men stepped forward, his posture relaxed in a way that suggested confidence rather than carelessness.
“Target confirmed,” he said.
Lyra’s stomach tightened.
That word wasn’t meant for Kael.
It was meant for her.
Kael seemed to realize it at the same time.
His stance shifted, subtly but decisively, placing himself more directly between her and them.
“That’s new,” he said.
The man’s eyes moved briefly to Lyra.
“Orders change.”
Lyra felt the weight of that statement immediately.
“They’re here for me,” she said under her breath.
“Yes,” Kael replied without hesitation.
Her pulse spiked.
“Why?”
“Because someone knows enough to be afraid of you.”
That answer didn’t comfort her.
It made everything worse.
The attackers didn’t wait.
They moved together—two from the front, one circling left, one holding back.
Coordinated.
Planned.
Kael stepped forward to meet them.
Despite the injuries.
Despite the blood.
He didn’t hesitate.
The first strike came fast, aimed directly at his center, precise enough that it would have ended the fight instantly against anyone slower.
Kael shifted just enough to avoid it, his hand snapping up to catch the attacker’s wrist and redirect the motion, using the man’s own momentum to throw him off balance before striking him down with controlled force.
No wasted movement.
No hesitation.
Lyra watched, her breath unsteady, as the second attacker moved in immediately, targeting the same side—Kael’s injured side.
They knew.
That meant this wasn’t random.
This was information.
The blade cut shallow, but enough to reopen the wound.
Lyra felt it instinctively—the shift, the weakness, the opening—
And before she could think, she moved.
Her hand pressed against his side again.
The reaction was immediate.
The heat surged back, faster this time, more controlled, as if her body had already learned what to do.
Kael stiffened—but didn’t stop her.
The wound stabilized again.
Not healed.
But no longer a weakness.
The attackers saw it.
Their expressions changed.
“That confirms it,” one of them said sharply.
Lyra froze.
Confirms what?
The fourth man—the one who hadn’t moved yet—stepped forward.
Different from the others.
Calmer.
More certain.
“They weren’t wrong,” he said, his gaze locking onto Lyra. “It’s her.”
Kael’s expression darkened.
“You’re making a mistake.”
The man smiled faintly.
“No,” he said. “We’re correcting one.”
Lyra’s chest tightened.
“What are they talking about?” she asked.
Kael didn’t answer immediately.
Because he already knew.
And that—
Was the problem.
- Writer
