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Satisfied with my handiwork, I retreated to a natural alcove formed by two large boulders and an ancient cedar tree. The perfect vantage point. From here, I could see the faux trail and still have a clear view of the surrounding area.
I nestled into my hideaway, patience becoming my closest companion as the forest continued its symphony around me—the rustling leaves playing percussion to the woodpecker’s rhythm section. Hours might pass before anything took the bait, but time was something I had learned to master.
A chipmunk scampered across the forest floor, its tiny paws skittering over fallen pine needles as it made its way toward the bait. My eyes remained fixed on the creature for only a moment before scanning beyond it for any sign of movement that didn’t belong.
As shadows lengthened and daylight waned, tension coiled within me tighter than the ivy that clung to nearby trunks. My ears strained for any sound out of place: a step too heavy for any woodland creature or breath too ragged against the silent backdrop.
Then it came—a vibration against my wrist so faint it could have been mistaken for the shiver that often accompanied the twilight chill. My eyes darted to my watch; someone or something had triggered the trap.
Heart hammering in anticipation, I edged closer to the opening between boulders and peered out with bated breath. Thesmartphone lay undisturbed from where I could see it; yet something had activated it—a shadow passing, or perhaps more?
Silence settled back over the forest like snow upon mountaintops as I waited with every muscle tensed for revelation. The mystery observer had made their move; now it was time for mine.
My fingers coiled into the damp moss beneath me, a feeble attempt to ground myself as the sensation on my wrist subsided. I had laid the trap with a mix of scientific curiosity and the self-preserving tactics learned from a past life I longed to forget. Now, the moment of truth loomed like a thunderhead on the horizon.
The forest’s ambient noise had dimmed to a whisper, as if every creature held its breath in collective anticipation. My own breaths came in shallow gasps, my body primed for flight at the first sign of danger.
I dared not blink as I scanned the woods for the source of the disturbance. My gaze darted from tree to tree, seeking any hint of movement, any clue to unveil my shadowy sentinel. That’s when I saw him—or it—emerging from between two towering pines like a wraith given form.
He stood taller than any man I’d ever seen, his skin shimmering with an otherworldly bronze hue that caught the dying light and refracted it back into the world. His presence was at once magnificent and terrifying—a creature sculpted from earth and metal, something born of myth rather than flesh and blood.
My heart thundered against my ribs, fear and fascination warring within me. This Talos monster before me was no figment of an overactive imagination; he was as real as the chillseeping through my clothing. For a fleeting second, I wondered if he harmed me, his stature and silent approach speaking of danger as clearly as any weapon.
But his eyes—his eyes held no malice. Instead, they were pools of deep curiosity, mirroring my own. In them, I saw intelligence and something akin to loneliness. It was enough to temper my fear with a thread of empathy.
“Who are you?” The words spilled from me in a rush, my voice barely above a whisper but slicing through the quiet like a blade.
He tilted his head slightly, considering my question, or perhaps considering me. “I am Hayze Russel,” he said at last, his voice resonant like wind through chimes. “Your guardian.”
My guardian? The notion sent a fresh wave of shock through me. A myriad of questions pressed against my lips—how, why, who had sent him—but they remained unspoken as I tried to reconcile this revelation with the world I thought I knew.
“You’ve been watching me,” I stated more than asked, pulling myself up to full height without breaking eye contact. “Why?”
“To protect you,” Hayze replied simply. It wasn’t enough; it couldn’t be enough. Yet, in that moment, all thoughts of demanding further answers faded under the weight of his gaze.
I remained perched on my feet, muscles coiled tight as springs ready to uncoil at any second. Every instinct screamed at me to run—to flee this enigma that stood before me—but another part resisted a strange urge to understand him, to know why our paths had crossed.
In that twilight standoff between fear and intrigue, between running and reaching out, I knew only one thing for certain:life in this quiet corner of the Pacific Northwest was far from ordinary—and perhaps so was I.
The woods hushed around us as if they, too, were straining to hear the truth spill from Hayze’s lips. His gaze never wavered, those eyes holding mine with an almost tangible intensity.
“I was born on Thion J5,” he began, his voice a low thrum that seemed to harmonize with the forest’s quiet murmur. “A cyborg planet forged beings like me for distinct purposes. My skin, this bronze you see, is not just a covering—it’s an armor made for resilience, for protection.”
I drew my coat tighter around me, the chill in the air suddenly biting deeper. My rational mind reeled at his words—a cyborg planet? Beings forged for purpose? Yet the earnestness in his voice pinned me in place.
“And your purpose... is to protect me?” I asked, the skepticism in my tone belying the shiver of intrigue that ran down my spine.
“Yes,” he affirmed with a nod that seemed to carry the weight of worlds. “The agency I work for—Monsters for Hire—they tasked me with guarding you. There’s more at stake than you realize.”
I swallowed hard, my mind racing as I processed his revelation. Monsters for Hire sounded like something out of a B-movie, not the reality of someone trying to make a fresh start in life. But then again, here stood Hayze—a living testament that the universe was broader and stranger than I’d ever imagined.
“Why me? I’m nobody special; just someone trying to forget her past and do some good in this world.”
He tilted his head slightly, studying me as though I were one of the curious specimens I often cataloged in my research.“You underestimate your impact, Arlet Rune—or should I say, Charlotte Bruno?”
My breath caught at the mention of my former name—a ghost from a life I’d fled. “How do you know about that?” I whispered, lost amid the rustling leaves.
“The agency knows much,” Hayze replied cryptically. “Your past made you a target. My job is to ensure your present—and future—are secure.”
