And Tessa is there.
37
TESSA
The forest feels too far away to matter until it isn’t.
Inside Redwood Crossing, everything is motion and noise—voices calling across the square, the sharp crack of orders being given, the constant undercurrent of fear people are trying not to show. It presses in from all sides, like the town itself is holding its breath.
I don’t have the luxury of panic. Not now.
“Move the visitors to the east hall!” I call out, my voice carrying farther than I expect. “Keep them together. No one splits off.”
Brooke is already there, guiding a cluster of shaken families toward the bookstore annex we’ve converted into a shelter. Her hands are steady, even if her face isn’t. Delilah is at her side, counting heads twice, then three times like repetition can guarantee safety.
It can’t. But it helps. A runner bursts into the square from the northern trail, skidding to a stop hard enough to kick up gravel.
“Tessa!” he gasps. “They’re breaking apart. The rogue pack—something’s wrong with them. They’re scattering.”
The runner hesitates just long enough to tell me everything.
“But the rogues aren’t organized anymore. It’s like they lost their center.”
A cold weight settles in my stomach. Archer is out there.
I force my voice to stay even. “Any sign of Archer?”
The runner shakes his head. “Not yet.”
Not yet. I turn before my fear has time to turn into something worse.
“Keep defense lines tight,” I order. “No chasing. No hero runs. We hold the perimeter until we know what we’re dealing with.”
Someone nearby mutters a confirmation. Someone else doesn’t look convinced.
I don’t blame them. The forest beyond the town feels alive with uncertainty. Every shadow looks like movement. Every sound could be the next wave. I hate not being out there. But I can’t be. Not when people are depending on me here.
Another shout cuts through the square—this time from the southern watch point.
“They’re collapsing! The rogues are retreating!”
A ripple moves through the defenders. Not relief. Confusion. Because collapse doesn’t always mean victory. It can mean something worse is coming next. I move quickly toward the bookstore steps where Conrad is standing at the edge of the crowd. He looks calm in the way only someone who’s seen too much can manage calm.
“He’s still out there,” I say before he can speak.
Conrad nods once. “Archer knows what he’s doing.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
His gaze shifts toward the treeline, distant and unreadable. “No. It’s not.”
That answer does nothing to steady me. A wind pushes through the square, carrying the scent of wet pine and something metallic I don’t want to identify. Blood. My handscurl into fists before I realize it. I look toward the forest again. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that comes after chaos, not before it.
Brooke jogs up the steps, breathless. “We’ve got everyone inside the east hall. Doors secured. Delilah’s taking inventory now.”
“Good,” I say automatically.
But my attention isn’t here anymore. It’s out there. Somewhere beyond the trees.
