Not shouted.
Not threatening.
Calm.
I closed my eyes briefly, centering myself.
“You don’t have to hide,” the voice continued. “You came to talk.”
I stayed silent.
Because talking was never the point.
The footsteps shifted—closer now, cautious. Someone was circling, trying to get an angle.
That was my confirmation.
He wasn’t here alone.
I rose slowly, hands visible, stepping just far enough up the ravine to be seen—but not enough to be cornered.
“I didn’t come to be taken,” I said clearly. “I came to be heard.”
A man stepped into view—not Thomas. Younger. Sharp-eyed. A runner, maybe. Someone trained to watch reactions.
“Where is he?” I asked.
A pause.
“Observing,” the man replied.
“Of course,” I said. “Tell him something for me.”
The man’s brow furrowed. “You can tell him yourself.”
“No,” I said calmly. “You tell him.”
I met the man’s gaze, steady and unafraid.
“This doesn’t end the way he thinks it does. Because the moment he touches this town again—any of it—everything changes.”
The man studied me, reassessing.
“You’re brave,” he said.
I shook my head. “No. I’m informed.”
I took a step back toward the ravine, reclaiming my ground.
“You wanted leverage,” I continued. “You have it. But don’t confuse that with control.”
The man lifted a hand to his earpiece, murmuring softly.
I didn’t move.
Somewhere in the woods behind me, Ifeltit before I heard it—the subtle shift of presence. Not sound. Not movement.
Intent.
