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Her eyes met mine again; this time they held an unspoken gratitude mixed with resolve. “Be careful,” she murmured.
A nod was all I gave her before slipping out into the night—a guardian forged from bronze and loyalty, ready to face whatever darkness lay ahead for us both.
The night air carried the scent of pine and damp earth as I slipped out of Arlet’s cabin, my senses instantly alert. I trusted the subtle whispers of the forest to listen for the heartbeat of danger lurking within its depths. The moon hung high, castingsilver beams through the canopy above, turning shadows into specters that danced at the edge of my vision.
I moved silently, my feet barely disturbing the underbrush as I made my way toward the source of my unease. The forest spoke to me in its rustling leaves and creaking boughs, but tonight, it held a tension that set my nerves on edge. A distant crack of a branch reached my ears—too deliberate, too heavy for an animal’s passing.
My pace quickened, every muscle primed for action. The cool air filled my lungs as I wove through trees and leaped over fallen logs with supernatural agility. Another sound caught my attention—a muffled voice—and I changed direction, honing in on the intrusion.
I kept to the shadows, a phantom among the ancient trees. As I neared a clearing, two figures emerged from the undergrowth. They moved with purpose but lacked the grace of those native to these woods. Their steps were hasty and uncoordinated as they glanced back over their shoulders with furtive urgency.
My heart hammered against my bronze chest; a predator’s instinct took hold. I gave chase, maintaining a distance that kept me hidden yet close enough to track their escape. They were intruders, their presence a discordant note in the night’s symphony.
They seemed oblivious to my pursuit—or perhaps they thought themselves beyond reach—as they pushed through brambles and brush. Their whispers reached me now and then, snippets of conversation laced with anxiety. It was clear they were not here by chance.
The chase led us to an old logging road, its gravel surface betraying their every step with crunching sounds that echoed between the trees. Their panicked breaths materializing in puffs of mist under the moonlight.
Just as I prepared to close in on them, they reached a side-by-side vehicle hidden amongst ferns and moss—a getaway planned with care. They scrambled inside, the engine roaring to life before I could intercept them.
I emerged from the forest’s edge just in time to see taillights disappearing down the road—a frustrating conclusion to an unsettling encounter. My breath came out in steely gusts as I clenched my fists, committing every detail to memory—their build, their hurried gait, even the faint scent of oil and sweat they left behind.
Turning back toward Arlet’s cabin, I retraced my steps with haste. A sense of dread gnawed at me; something wasn’t right. The forest seemed too quiet now—expectant—as if holding its breath for news I dreaded to discover.
I arrived at the cabin in record time, only to find the door slightly ajar—a silent alarm that sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through me. “Arlet?” My voice cut through the stillness as I stepped inside.
Shadows bathed the interior save for a sliver of moonlight that fell across the empty bed where we had lain just hours before. Strewn sheets tossed to the side carelessly; her phone lay abandoned on the nightstand.
“Arlet!” I called again, louder this time—my voice echoing off the walls with a note of desperation that was foreign to me.
But there was no answer—only silence met my ears as realization set in like ice through my veins.
Arlet was gone.
CHAPTER 20
Arlet
A dream of Hayze’s silhouette against the moonlit forest faded as a harsh grip wrenched me from sleep. I jolted upright, my heart hammering, only to have rough hands clamp around my arms. The room spun, the shadows of my cabin morphing into the outlines of two figures.
“Quiet,” a gruff voice hissed in my ear. The scent of oil and earth filled my nostrils, the intruders’ breaths heavy and foul.
Instinct kicked in. My leg shot out, aiming for a knee, a shin—anything. A sharp grunt told me I’d connected, but their hold didn’t loosen. Panic surged through my veins, every muscle straining against their unyielding grip.
“Don’t even think about it,” the other one growled, his voice a low threat that rumbled through the dark.
My chest heaved as I writhed and twisted, every bit of training Hayze had drilled into me flaring to life. But these men overwhelmed me with their preparedness and strength.
A scream tore from my throat, raw and desperate. In an instant, fabric stuffed into my mouth stifled the sound, and darkness swallowed me as a hood slipped over my head. Muffled sounds and the racing of my pulse reduced my world.
They bound my hands behind me with zip ties—tight and unrelenting. My skin chafed against the plastic. I tried to plant my feet, to refuse them even an inch, but it was like being rooted in quicksand.
“Pick her up,” one commanded.
Arms slid beneath my shoulders and knees. Air left my lungs as they hoisted me up with ease. They moved in sync as if they’d done this dance before—a twisted ballet of abduction.
I bucked against their hold, every movement futile but necessary—resistance was all I had left. Their pace quickened; boots thudded against the wooden floorboards as they carried me out into the night.
The chill of the outside air bit at any exposed skin, whispering through the fabric covering my face. Sounds of nature—the usual nocturnal chorus—were distant under the drumming of blood in my ears.
