Chapter 7

7

IRENE

T he morning air was crisp and cool, the forest alive with the scent of dew and evergreens. Irene moved through the underbrush with purpose, scanning the terrain for signs of her next clue. The boulders with the markings had led her here, to a stretch of forest that felt older, untouched. She was certain she was close.

Her boots moved softly over the ground, the faint rustle of leaves underfoot blending with the gentle whisper of the wind. She adjusted the strap of her pack, her thoughts focused on the map she’d sketched the night before. If her calculations were correct, the next set of clues had to be somewhere near the base of the ridge ahead.

But her instincts were on edge, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. The forest felt too quiet, the usual symphony of birds and insects conspicuously absent. She paused, her heart thudding in her chest as she listened.

That’s when she heard it—the faint snap of a twig.

Irene froze, her breath catching as she scanned the trees. The shadows seemed to shift and stretch, as the faint smell of human sweat mixed with gun oil reached her nose. Her stomach churned. Hunters.

Before she could react, a voice rang out, sharp and commanding. “Don’t move.”

She turned slowly, her eyes locking onto the group of men emerging from the shadows. There were three of them, their rifles slung over their shoulders, their expressions cold and predatory.

“Well, what do we have here?” one of them drawled, his lips curling into a cruel smile. “A little lost hiker?”

Irene’s heart pounded as her gaze darted between them. They didn’t look like casual outdoorsmen. Their movements were too deliberate, their eyes too sharp. And the way they looked at her sent a chill down her spine.

“I’m just a hiker. If you’re hunting in this area, I’ll choose somewhere else to hike. This trail was recommended to me by the owner of the B it was a summons, pulling her toward it with an intensity she couldn’t resist. Her heart raced, her instincts screaming that she needed to go, now.

The hunters were in her way, an immovable barrier between her and whatever was calling her. She didn’t think—there wasn’t time to think. The knife was in her hand before she even realized it, glinting in the dim light as she lunged at the nearest man.

Chaos exploded around her. Shouts and curses tore through the forest, mingling with the sharp crack of gunfire. Irene moved like a predator unleashed, her body reacting faster than her thoughts as she fought with a ferocity that surprised even her. The world around her blurred into a storm of movement and sound, her singular focus on survival—and the inexplicable pull that refused to let her go.