Ancient Stone
The Windstone’sglow pulsed in Emma’s hands, casting writhing shadows across the cave walls. The assassin was already pushing himself up from where the artifact’s power threw him, and her heart hammered against her ribs. She had no idea how she’d done that—made the wind obey her—and no clue how to do it again.
The storm outside roared, thunder shaking loose small stones from the ceiling. Rain pounded the cliff face, the sound rolling through the cavern like drums.
Footsteps. Fast. Purposeful. Muted. She felt them more than heard them.
Zach materialized out of the darkness like a wraith, rolling into the chamber with a knife already in his hand. The dim glow of the Windstone showed the absolute focus in his dark steel eyes, the lethal grace in every movement.
Relief flooded through her.He came. He was here.
There was no time for the relief to set.
The assassin lunged.
Not at Emma this time. At Zach.
The two men collided with devastating force, crashing into the cave wall hard enough to crack stone. She stumbledbackward, clutching the Windstone to her chest as they grappled in the shadows. Metal flashed. A blade—the assassin's—whipped toward Zach’s throat.
Zach caught his wrist mid-strike, twisted, and the distinctcrackof breaking bone echoed in the chamber. The assassin’s knife clattered across the stone floor.
The injury didn’t stop him. He slammed his forehead into Zach’s face, driving his knee toward Zach’s ribs. Zach blocked, countered, his own blade appearing from somewhere on his person—his boot, maybe—and then they were moving so fast Emma could barely track them.
Every movement was precise, economical, brutally efficient. No wasted motion. No hesitation. This wasn’t a bar fight or a scuffle.
The assassin was fast, trained, deadly.
Zach wasbetter.
Or… he should be. He was slowing down.
Emma’s breath caught as Zach’s next strike came a fraction slower. His block was almost—almost—late.
The assassin's lips curved into a smile, blood on his teeth from where Zach had landed a hit earlier.
“Getting tired already, Steele?” he panted, circling. “Thought you were some kind of legend.”
Zach didn’t respond. He barely spoke under normal circumstances. He wouldn’t waste breath on words during a fight.
But something was wrong.
Zach’s movements weren’t as fluid as before. His chest heaved harder than it should. He set his feet as if the ground beneath him wasn’t stable.
The assassin lunged again, faster this time, and Zach’s counter was?—
Slow.
Too slow.
The assassin’s fist connected with Zach’s jaw, snapping his head to the side. Zach staggered, and Emma’s heart stopped.
“That's better,” the assassin taunted, grinning wider. “Marcus was right about you.”
Zach recovered, drove his shoulder into the man’s chest, slamming him against the wall. His knife was at the assassin’s throat, pressed hard enough to draw blood.
“Marcus?” Zach’s voice was low, dangerous, but with a slight rasp beneath it.
The assassin smirked, even with a blade at his throat. “Said you’d be trouble. Said you’d be the hard one to take down.” His eyes flicked to Emma, to the Windstone in her hands, then back to Zach. “Too bad for you the island had the solution for us.”
