The forest was alive with whispers.
Rainwater dripped from the pines, tracing lines down Damian's face as he moved through the dark, gun steady in hand.
Every sound was magnified by the crunch of wet earth beneath his boots, the faint rustle of leaves disturbed by something that didn't belong.
He paused, scanning the clearing. Nothing. Just the soft hiss of mist.
Then movement. A flash of something pale through the trees.
He raised the gun instantly, his voice low but sharp. "Show yourself."
No answer.
He took one step forward,then two ams the air felt charged, thick with the same tension he used to feel right before a firefight that hummed in his blood that told him someone was too close.
Then a shape stumbled into the clearing. A man.
Soaked, bleeding, half-collapsed.
Damian caught him before he hit the ground, gripping his collar, forcing the face into view. Recognition hit him like a strike to the chest.
"Matteo," he breathed.
