The Beast in the Woods

Fernando’s POV

The woods swallowed all sound.

The early afternoon light burned through the trees, in sharp beams that pierced the canopy and splashed across our faces. It wasn’t good for us. Shadows were our allies, and light was theirs.

I kept my hand low, fingers curling around the grip of my gun, and pushed my back against the bark of a towering tree.

Marlo crouched about twenty feet to my left, while Emilio had taken cover higher up, tucked between the trunks of twin pines, his rifle balanced against his shoulder. We were all silent in the forest, like three predators waiting for prey.

My prey.

“Quiet,” I mouthed when Marlo risked a glance toward me. He nodded once, his eyes narrowing.

This was our trap. Draw Harold’s men into the woods, choke them with silence, then break them like twigs beneath our boots.

The problem was the light.

Afternoon had come too early, the sun piercing through the leaves and painting us in strips of gold.

My jaw clenched.

That waa when I heard foot