His Rejected Mate's Secret
Below, she spots movement near the healer’s lines, Afnan, glowing faintly in the half-light, tending to the fallen.
That gentle, blessed glow. The one Delph had always protected.
Serena lifts her bow.
Her fingers slide across the quiver until they find the arrow forged for this very night, silver-tipped, etched with runes that burn faintly blue. A weapon designed to pierce moon-blessed flesh and unmake whatever grace the gods had given.
She draws.
The string hums, a note so pure it almost sounds like a hymn.
Her heartbeat slows. The world narrows to the target below, that pale figure kneeling over the wounded, unaware of the shadow aiming for her heart.