Sarima knew they shot guns in the mornings most times, usually for hunting or training. But not like this.
The sound still rang in her ears, yet it wasn't the gunshot that unsettled her most.
It was what followed.
What she had seen.
Her stomach twisted violently, nausea climbing up her throat as heat crept through her body like the beginning of another fever, clashing against the cold already buried deep in her bones.
She had been outside too long.
Soaked.
The wind had dried parts of her skin, leaving it tight and uncomfortable, but her clothes still clung stubbornly to her body, heavy and freezing. Damp strands had escaped her loose bun, pulling painfully every time she moved.
"Do you know the way out?" she asked quietly.
Her own voice barely sounded familiar. Too weak. Too exhausted.
She refused to look at him.
Not after that.
Silence answered her.
Sarima turned away first and started walking, forcing herself forward despite the sharp pain shooting through her ankle.
Anywhere but there.
Anywhere but that scene.
"Did you try to run away and choose the woods?" his voice came from behind her, low and unhurried.
Too calm.
Far too calm for someone who had witnessed the same horror she had.
She paused briefly when she realized he was following her.
"Why would you ask that?" she muttered.
"You were crying."
The words landed too easily.
"I wasn't," she snapped immediately.
Too fast.
Too sharp.
A lie that sounded exactly like one.
Silence stretched between them again, though it didn't feel empty. It felt watchful.
"Would you like me to carry you?" he asked.
Like it was a normal offer.
Like they weren't standing in the aftermath of something terrible.
"No," she answered quickly. "I'm not a child. I can walk."
The ground disappeared beneath her before she could react.
A startled gasp escaped her lips as strong arms caught her effortlessly.
"What are you doing? Put me down now."
She struggled instinctively, but his grip only tightened slightly, locking her firmly against him. His sweet citrus cologne enveloped her senses immediately and she immediately noticed the contrast in his cologne and her stalker.
"You're being loud, Princess," he said lazily. "Would you like your brothers to hear you?"
The words sliced through her immediately.
"My name isn't Princess," she muttered weakly.
Everything fell quiet again.
Not peaceful quiet.
Heavy quiet.
The kind that made her aware of everything, the firm strength beneath her back, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the fact that he wasn't even remotely strained carrying her.
"Why are you here?" she asked after a moment.
No response.
"You're not meant to be here," she continued, frustration slipping into her voice. "You snuck in. You're a rival to my family, and I'm sure the feeling is mutual, so what are you doing here?"
Still nothing.
Sarima leaned back slightly to look at him properly.
Their eyes met.
And something inside her immediately stilled.
There was something in his gaze she couldn't explain. Something that made her skin prickle in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.
Not anger.
Not surprise.
Something worse.
Something knowing.
Her breath caught sharply.
Before she could stop herself, she turned her face away and buried it against his shirt instead.
The realization hit instantly.
Why did she do that?
"For someone who calls me a rival," he murmured quietly above her, "you shouldn't be in my arms."
Her heartbeat stumbled painfully.
He was right.
She shouldn't be.
"This is the perfect place to dump the body of a witness," he continued calmly, like he was discussing the weather. "Quiet. Clean. No evidence leading back to me."
Her fingers curled tightly into his shirt before she realized it.
"Don't you think?"
Her chest tightened.
That wasn't a joke.
Or maybe it was.
She couldn't tell.
"Are you planning to squeeze the life out of me?" he asked suddenly.
Sarima blinked in confusion before realizing how tightly she was gripping him.
Embarrassed, she loosened her hold slightly, though her fingers still trembled.
"I told you I can walk," she muttered.
But the confidence from earlier was gone now.
Only she would chase a stranger into the woods and somehow end up in the arms of a rival, completely at his mercy.
"You know," she murmured quietly after another stretch of silence, "it's rude not to answer people, especially when they say they can walk and you're carrying them without their will"
He ignored that too.
The deeper they moved into the woods, the darker everything became. The trees thickened around them, shadows swallowing the narrow spaces between branches.
"You talk a lot when you're nervous," he said eventually.
Sarima stiffened. "I'm not nervous."
"You are."
The certainty in his voice irritated her more than it should have.
"I just watched something I didn't understand," she snapped. "Anyone would be"
"Anyone wouldn't have come here in the first place," he interrupted calmly.
Her mouth closed instantly.
Because he was right.
Not cruelly.
Just truthfully.
"I didn't come here by choice," she muttered.
"Bad choices still count."
Her jaw tightened.
He adjusted his hold slightly as he walked, carrying her as though she weighed nothing at all.
That thought unsettled her more than it should have.
"So what?" she asked quietly. "You just go around carrying people and threatening them casually?"
"Only the ones who don't listen."
Her eyes narrowed. "And what happens to the ones who do?"
A pause.
"They survive longer."
That wasn't comforting.
It sounded experienced.
The forest grew colder around them. Broken ground replaced any sign of a path, shadows swallowing the spaces between the trees.
"You're enjoying this," she muttered before she could stop herself.
He paused very slightly.
Not offended.
Not amused.
Just considering her words.
"I don't enjoy it," he said eventually.
Then quieter,"I just don't get attached to outcomes."
Something about that sat wrong inside her chest.
"People aren't outcomes," she said softly.
"They are out here."
That silenced her immediately.
Not because she agreed.
Because suddenly she realized he might not be talking about people like her at all.
A distant sound moved through the trees.
Sarima tensed instantly.
He noticed, of course.
"Stay still."
She obeyed immediately.
Not because she wanted to.
Because for the first time since meeting him, she believed him.
Another rustle echoed nearby.
"What was that?" she whispered.
He kept walking.
A second sound followed, closer this time.
"There," she whispered again, fingers curling unconsciously into his shirt. "Did you hear it?"
"Yes."
That was all he said.
Her heartbeat quickened. "So you're just going to ignore it?"
Another rustle came from the trees.
This time he slowed slightly.
Not because he was worried.
Because she was.
A branch shifted suddenly, and a bird burst violently from the darkness, wings flapping loudly into the sky.
Silence followed.
Nothing else.
Sarima's shoulders slowly relaxed.
"It was just a bird," she muttered weakly.
"Mm."
That was his only response.
After a while, she looked up at him again.
"You knew it was nothing."
"Yes."
"Then why didn't you say that immediately?"
This time, when he looked down at her, something unreadable flickered briefly in his expression.
"Because," he said calmly, "you needed to see how fast you panic."
Her throat tightened.
And suddenly the cold no longer felt like it belonged to the forest.
"You talk like people don't matter to you at all," she said quietly.
"They don't."
The simplicity of his answer made her chest tighten.
"Not even the ones you carry around like this?"
A pause.
Then....
"Especially them."
"That's not normal," she murmured.
"I know," he agreed easily.
Silence stretched between them again, heavier now, like something dangerous sat just beneath it.
Sarima shifted slightly in his arms. "So what are you, then?"
That question changed something.
Not his grip.
Not his pace.
Just him.
"You really don't know when to stop asking questions," he said quietly.
"I think I deserve to know what I'm dealing with."
"You're dealing with someone you should be more afraid of."
She stilled.
"What?"
"More afraid of me," he corrected calmly. "Not the woods. Not what you saw earlier. Me."
Her throat went dry instantly.
"That's not funny."
"I'm not trying to be."
The forest felt too quiet again.
She forced out a weak laugh. "You're holding me like I'm fragile while threatening me at the same time. Pick one."
"I already did."
Her brows furrowed. "What does that even mean?"
A pause.
Then quietly.....
"I'm not threatening you."
That only confused her more.
"I'm telling you the truth."
Her grip tightened around his shirt again without her realizing it.
"And what truth is that?"
This time, he slowed slightly, not enough to stop, just enough to make sure she heard him clearly.
"You should be more scared of me," he said calmly, "because I'm the only thing in this place that can actually decide what happens to you."
Silence crashed between them instantly.
Heavy.
Absolute.
Sarima's breath caught sharply.
Because he didn't sound like he was exaggerating.
He didn't sound like he was trying to scare her.
He sounded certain.
"So why am I still alive?" she whispered.
A beat passed.
Then, almost casually...
"Because I haven't decided otherwise."
Her stomach dropped painfully.
And suddenly every sound in the forest felt distant.
Unimportant.
Because the most dangerous thing there wasn't hiding in the woods.
It was holding her.