CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The village sleeps under a crescent moon, its silvery light casting muted shadows on the mulched paths. My heart races—not from my night patrol, but from the scent that teases the chill mountain air. It's him. Ethan.
A shadow moves with a grace that sends shivers down my spine—more silent than a whisper, more deliberate than fate. I stay still, watching from behind the barrels by the blacksmith’s forge, as Ethan slips between buildings, his every step calculated and soundless. He's hunting, but not for prey. For me.
"Looking for something?" The words slip from my lips before I can stop them, betraying my position.
Ethan freezes, his silhouette outlined by the moonlight. "Found it," he says, and there's a smile in his voice—one I haven't heard in far too long.
My b
