Shadows and First Blood
Her stance shifted slightly, the kind that said I could break you if I wanted, but I’m curious first.
Close enough now to smell the copper of her skin, he leaned just far enough to be heard.
“Matrix,” he said, voice steady.
Her lips curved. “Silver.”
A simple exchange, but it detonated like a vow.
They moved together for a song, maybe two—him shadowing her rhythm, her testing his edges. No words, just the kind of silence that lives between hunters when both are armed. The air around them changed temperature; every flicker of neon cut sharper against her skin.
Bab Populer