Page 51 of Sage Haven
When exactly had I stopped fighting back?
When had survival turned into servitude?
My thoughts were interrupted when I sensed it, a flicker at the edge of the field.
I stilled.
The shift was subtle, but I knew how to feel for it.
The way the air changed.
The quiet strain in the silence that didn’t belong.
I yanked out my earbuds, the music cutting off instantly.
Suddenly, everything around me felt too loud.
The distant hum of insects.
The wind rustling through the dry grass.
Something wasn’t right.
I slid my hand to the side holster, fingers wrapping around the cool grip of my gun.
Slow. Silent.
I moved into the shadows of the trees, letting them swallow me in their dark coverage.
Step by step, I closed the distance.
My pulse remained steady.
I had done this more times than I could count.
Hunting. Tracking. Finding. Ending.
And then I saw her.
Sage.
Standing at the edge of the tree line, her hair catching the faint gleam of moonlight, falling in loose waves down her back.
That beautiful shimmer of green at the tips.
The wind tugged at it gently, making it sway like sea grass underwater.
She was so still, but not in fear.
In knowing, like she could sense what I was feeling.
Like she was waiting for me.
I checked my watch.
9:11 PM.
Too late. Too dangerous.
