The next few days passed in a haze of uncertainty. The Vanguard's presence lingered in the air like a storm cloud—unseen, but undeniably there. Kaelen could feel it, a subtle shift in the fabric of her life. Every corner she turned, every shadow she passed, it felt as though eyes were watching her, waiting for her to make a mistake. The sense of being hunted had never been so tangible.
Kaelen wasn't used to feeling like prey. But the Vanguard was no ordinary enemy. They were everywhere. Powerful, manipulative, and silent. Their reach extended beyond Grimholt's borders, touching places Kaelen could only imagine. She had walked the line between shadows and light for years, but this?
This was different.
She had made a name for herself as someone who worked alone—someone who didn't need alliances, who didn't need protection. But the Vanguard's grip was tightening, and Kaelen wasn't foolish enough to believe she could outrun them forever.
The quiet of her small, dimly lit apartment felt suffocating. The walls, once a place of solitude and safety, now seemed to close in around her. She paced, back and forth, her thoughts as tangled as the knots of her hair. The only sound in the room was the rhythmic clicking of her boots against the wooden floor.
Kaelen had always been a creature of action. But now, in the wake of Jarek's warning, she had to think.
Strategy.
Timing.
She needed to stay one step ahead of the Vanguard—perhaps more.
The question wasn't how to survive. It was whether she even wanted to.
Her hand drifted to the small lockbox hidden beneath the floorboards, a secret she had kept from the world. It contained her most prized possessions—her weapons, her notes, and something far more valuable: the bloodstained letter from her past.
Kaelen stopped herself before opening the box. She couldn't afford to revisit that memory.
Not now.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.
She froze.
No one ever knocked.
She had made sure of that.
Her apartment was meant to be a sanctuary, a place untouched by the outside world. But clearly, the world had found its way in.
Slowly, Kaelen approached the door, her movements deliberate. She didn't ask who it was. She didn't need to. She already knew.
She opened the door to find a familiar face.
It was Marek, an old acquaintance from her past. A man who had, for reasons unknown to her, always managed to get under her skin. Marek was not a man who trusted easily, nor did he offer his help without a reason. He was the type who was always one step ahead, always looking for leverage. A calculating mind with eyes as sharp as a dagger.
"I wasn't expecting you," Kaelen said, her tone flat, betraying nothing of the recognition she felt at the sight of him.
Marek stepped inside without waiting for an invitation.
"I figured that," he replied coolly. "But I also figured you might need some help."
Kaelen's eyes narrowed. "I don't need your help, Marek."
He gave a half-smile, the kind that never reached his eyes. "You might not want it, but you do need it."
She didn't respond. Marek was right, of course.
But she wasn't about to admit it aloud.
She didn't need anyone, especially not him.
He walked over to the table where a single candle flickered, its light casting long, wavering shadows across the room. The atmosphere between them shifted, as if they were both sizing each other up.
"The Vanguard is looking for you," Marek said, as if stating a simple fact. He wasn't asking for confirmation. He already knew.
Kaelen clenched her fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. "And what do you want from me, Marek?"
"I want to offer you a deal," he said. "A chance to get out of this mess before it's too late."
Kaelen's gaze never left him. She knew Marek well enough to know he was never interested in charity. "What kind of deal?"
"A way out. A chance to disappear," he said. "The Vanguard isn't just some rogue faction. They're tied into everything, and if they decide to make you a target, they'll ruin you. I can get you out. Help you vanish, if you're willing to work with me."
Kaelen's mind raced. The thought of escaping—of leaving everything behind—was tempting. But she knew it was too simple. Marek never offered anything without expecting something in return.
"And what do you want in exchange for your help?" Kaelen asked, though she already had a feeling she knew the answer.
Marek smiled, but it was cold, predatory. "I want your skills, Drayce. I want you to help me with a job. A big one. Something that will give us both what we want."
She scoffed. "And I'm supposed to just trust you?"
"You don't have to trust me," he said, stepping closer, his eyes gleaming. "Just know that if you don't take my offer, you're going to regret it. The Vanguard won't stop until they have you in their grasp, and trust me, they'll come for you. Harder than you think."
The room seemed to grow colder, as though his words had summoned a chill that pressed in on her from all sides. Marek's threat was real, and she knew it. The Vanguard was relentless. But this was a game she had played before, and Kaelen had always been one to make her own rules.
"I'll think about it," she said, her voice steady, but her insides were churning.
Marek gave her a nod, a knowing look passing between them. He wasn't going to push her.
Not yet.
He knew that if he gave her time, Kaelen would come to him.
She always did.
He turned toward the door, but before he left, he paused. "Time's ticking, Drayce. You'll have to make a decision soon."
With that, he was gone, slipping back into the shadows as effortlessly as he had appeared.
Kaelen stood still for a moment, her hand resting on the doorframe.
Her mind was torn.
Marek's offer was tempting, but the idea of working with him—trusting him—felt wrong.
She couldn't afford to make the wrong choice.
As the silence of her apartment returned, the weight of the decision settled over her like a shroud.
She was running out of time.