The frigid night air bit into my skin as Bones and I slipped from the cabin, the trees loomed like silent sentinels under the silver glow of the moon. The ground crunched under our boots, each step deliberate, cautious. The atmosphere was electric, the kind of tension that made every rustle of leaves sound like a gunshot.

It didn’t take long to find them. The soldiers were already moving toward the cabin’s location, their boots crushing through the undergrowth in a steady, determined rhythm. I motioned for Bones to hang back, my hand cutting through the air in a silent command. This was my arena.

I stalked round to flank them my breath slowing, every muscle in my body coiled like a spring, ready to strike. The world narrowed to the sound of those boots and the pounding of my heart. The katana was ready in my hand, its weight a familiar comfort. I became the shadow, slipping between the trees, silent as the wind.

The first soldier never saw me coming. My blade sliced through his throat in a clean arc, the crimson mist catching the moonlight like something out of a nightmare. The second turned, his mouth opening in shock, but no sound escaped before the katana pierced his chest. He dropped silently, his rifle slipping from his fingers.

The third caught the movement too late, his weapon halfway to his shoulder when my blade severed his arm. His scream pierced the night before I silenced it with a clean thrust to the heart.

And then there was him.

He was different—bigger, stronger, faster, a monster. His movements were calculated, deliberate. His cold eyes locked on mine, and I could tell he wasn’t like the others. He was a predator, and he saw me as prey.

I struck first, my blade a blur in the moonlight. Each slash was precise, aimed to kill, but he moved with terrifying ease, dodging and countering like he’d done this dance a thousand times. His boot crunched me in the side, the force nearly sending me sprawling, but I adjusted, pivoting to sever clean through his rifle with a single arc.

The severed weapon clattered to the ground, and for a moment, I had him. Then he moved, faster than I expected. His blow sent the katana flying from my grasp, and before I could react, his kick crashed into my chest with brutal force, hurling me back through the air.

I hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the air from my lungs. The tree trunk stopped me, its bark digging into my back as he was on me in an instant. His forearm crushing my throat, choking me. My vision blurred, the edges of the world closing in as I clawed in vein at his arm, desperate for air. “Not like this.”

“This is the end for you, ghost bitch” he snarled, his breath hot and acrid against my face.

Bones sprinted into range, the commotion drawing him like a beacon. He raised the rifle, his pulse hammering in his ears. The shadows moved too fast—Rebel and the soldier locked in a brutal blur of motion. One wrong shot, and he could hit her. But if he didn’t…

Then the crack of his rifle cut through the night, the sound echoing through the trees. The bullet struck the trunk inches from my head, sending shards of bark into his eyes. He flinched, just for a moment, but it was enough.

My hand shot to his belt, my fingers closing around the hilt of his knife. With every ounce of strength I had left, I drove the blade into his neck, slicing through flesh and muscle, and he staggered back, choking, blood pouring from the wound.

He dropped to his knees, his hands clutching at his throat, gasping for air that would never come. And then he collapsed, his body crumpling to the forest floor, lifeless.

I fell to my knees, the knife slipping from my grasp. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath, but the world was spinning, the edges growing darker. The last thing I saw was his blood pooling into the earth, soaking into the cold, unyielding ground.

Then, blackness.

When I briefly came to, it was to the sensation of being lifted, cradled, my head lolling against a solid chest. Bones’ voice, low and steady, cut through the haze. “I’ve got you, Reb,” he said, his grip firm but gentle, almost like he was holding me together. “You’re not done yet.”

The warmth of his words clung to me as the darkness pulled me under again, a fleeting promise in a night that had tried to end us.