Brielle moved silently through the forest, her footsteps barely making a sound on the damp earth. The cool mist hung low around her ankles, curling through the undergrowth like fingers reaching for something unseen. Her sharp eyes scanned the ground, seeking out the plants she needed—nightshade, hemlock, and belladonna. Each one carefully plucked and tucked into the leather pouch at her side. The dense foliage made it easy to stay hidden, though even out here in the wilderness, she never let her guard down. Old habits die hard when you’ve spent most of your life killing people for money.

She kept her thoughts focused—gather the herbs, get back to the cottage, stay invisible. It was a routine that had kept her alive these past few weeks, ever since the last job had gone to hell. Now, she was on the run, hunted by those who once hired her. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay off the grid, but she had no choice but to keep moving.

She crouched to pluck a sprig of wolfsbane, the poisonous plant cool and waxy between her fingers. As she stood up, something in the corner of her vision caught her attention. A figure, slumped at the base of a massive oak tree, motionless.

Slowly, she crept closer, her hand drifting to the dagger strapped to her thigh, just in case.

The figure—they—were human, at least in appearance. They lay crumpled on the ground, clothes torn, blood and dirt smeared across their skin. Brielle knelt beside them, checking for signs of life. A shallow rise and fall of the chest told her they were still breathing. Alive, but barely.

She scanned their body, searching for weapons or anything that would tell her who they were. Nothing. But there was something else—an undercurrent of raw energy radiating off them. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Power. Strong, ancient, and dangerous.

Brielle’s breath hitched. A dragon shifter. That explained the power. "Shit..." he cursed under her breath. Her instincts screamed at her to leave, to walk away before they woke up, but no.