“You’re close,” he says quietly. “To losing control.”
“I’ve been in control this entire time,” I reply.
“Not of this,” he says.
Silence. Heavy. Then he steps back again. One more measured retreat.
“This is your warning,” Damon says. “Not your challenge.”
I don’t respond. Because I don’t need to. Warnings are what people give when they think they’re still being polite.
“I’ll see you soon,” he adds.
Then he turns. Walks back into the trees like the forest belongs to him too. Like boundaries are optional. Like war is already decided. And then he’s gone.
For a moment, no one moves. No one breathes. Then Eli exhales sharply.
“Did that just?—”
“Yes,” I cut in.
Because I don’t need it repeated. My tiger is still up. Still bristling. Still reacting to the words that weren’t threats—but promises.
“She’s a pressure point.”
I turn sharply.
“Move,” I say.
The patrol snaps into motion immediately. We don’t run. Not yet. But we move fast. Because now it’s no longer about tracking. It’s about responding.
By the time we reach town, the shift is immediate. The air feels tighter. More alert.
Like the entire place is holding itself together with effort. Conrad meets me halfway. His expression tells me everything before he speaks.
“They’ve been inside,” he says.
“I know.”
His eyes narrow slightly. “You saw him.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
My jaw tightens.
“They’re preparing for escalation,” I say.
“That’s not new.”
“This is different,” I reply.
That makes him pause.
“Explain.”
I exhale slowly. Then say it.
