They were never the target.
I shift my stance slightly, angling my body, the spear steady in my hands as Krago closes the distance between us at an unhurried pace.
“You don’t strike me as someone who sends others to run,” he says, his tone almost conversational, like we’re discussing something trivial instead of this.
“I don’t,” I reply.
“Good,” he says, and there’s something in the way his mouth curves that tells me he’s already decided how this ends.
He moves.
I react.
The spear comes up, my step angling to the side to create space, but the strike that hits it isn’t meant to land clean—it comes from the flank, knocking the shaft sideways hard enough to rip it from my grip before I can recover.
I pivot immediately, hand dropping for my knife, but something slams into my back before I can draw it, the force driving me forward and down, air tearing out of my lungs as my knee hits the ground.
I twist, trying to roll through it, but a hand catches my wrist mid-motion, wrenching it back just enough to kill the leverage.
Pain flashes sharp.
Controlled.
“Careful,” Krago says, stepping into my line of sight, his voice softer now, almost thoughtful. He crouches slightly, not close enough to touch, but close enough that I can see the fine details of his expression. “I’d rather not damage something valuable.”
I go still.
Not because I want to.
Because I have to.
My breath comes uneven for a second, my pulse loud in my ears, but I force it down, forcing my focus onto him instead of the position I’m in.
“You’re making a mistake,” I say, my voice steadying as I meet his gaze.
His brow lifts slightly, like he finds that interesting.
“No,” he replies. “I’m correcting one.”
His hand lifts, hovering near my face, not touching, just close enough that I can feel the heat of it.
“You stand out,” he continues, his tone measured now, eyes narrowing slightly as he studies me. “You move people. They listen to you.”
I don’t react.
I don’t give him that.
But something cold settles in my chest.
Because that didn’t come from watching.
That came from being told.
“Who?” I ask before I can stop it, my voice quieter now.
His mouth curves.
“Does it matter?” he says, tilting his head slightly.
