Help make that work.

Zane

Watching Amanda fight was like witnessing a tempest in a human form. Her movements were fluid and fierce, each strike calculated and precise. I stood at a distance, concealed by the shadows of the thick forest, my heart a strange mix of admiration and regret. She fought with a bravery that was almost otherworldly, deflecting blows with a grace that belied the raw power behind them. It wasn't going to be easy to take her down. My men knew it, and I knew it too. But we had our orders.

"Amanda!" I shouted, my voice cutting through the chaos of the skirmish. She turned, her eyes locking onto mine, and I saw it—the flicker of suspicion, the dawning realization. She knew something was off. She'd always been perceptive, too perceptive. Her eyes, filled with a mixture of pain and betrayal, bore into me.

"Zane?" she called back, her voice strained from the exertion. "What the hell is going on?"

For a split second, I considered telling her everything, explaining that the attackers surround