Yunfeng moved like a predator loosed from its cage, silent and sharp-eyed, his steps barely cracking the earth beneath him. His chest rose and fell with a controlled rhythm, every breath carrying both his fury and his purpose. He followed the faint imprints left behind by the infiltrating agent, the one who had dared to sneak into their lives, who had come close—too close—to harming the fragile family he was building.
The trail wound outward from the ruined house, away from the remnants of the fog Hana had conjured, past crumpled drones and abandoned weapons. Yunfeng's sharp senses picked up more than footprints: broken blades of grass, small dents in the soil, the faint stench of gun oil. The scent of an outsider lingered on the wind, acrid and wrong.
A guttural shriek snapped his focus forward.
