Chapter 3

The air in the clearing had turned crisp, biting at my exposed skin in a way that felt less like cold and more like anticipation. The sun was beginning its slow descent behind the ridge of the autumn forest, casting long, amber shadows across the manicured grass of the archery range. It was late afternoon, the golden hour where the light turned everything into a memory before it even happened. I had been alone for perhaps twenty minutes, pretending to focus on the flight of my arrows, but my mind had been drifting, tethered only by the memory of his presence from earlier that day. I had just finished my third string, the rhythm of nock, draw, anchor, and release becoming a meditative trance, when I felt it. A shift in the atmosphere. A sudden stillness in the birds. I didn’t need to turn around to know he was there. I could feel the weight of his gaze on the back of my neck, heavy and deliberate. I kept my posture rigid, my shoulders squared, but my heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. "Your form is slipping, baby girl." His voice was low, a rumble that vibrated