At that, Isabella shot to her feet like someone lit her skirt on fire.
Even Kian blinked at how fast she moved. His hand was still raised from where he had been cradling her shoulder a second ago.
"...What the hell was that," he muttered under his breath.
She stood upright, brushing off her skirt with forced nonchalance, as if she hadn't just done a speed-dodge from the underworld.
Internally, though, she was spiraling.
Who the hell was shooting at her?! Were there snipers in the damn Stone Age?! Who even had archery training in prehistoric times?!
"Stay here," Kian said firmly, his voice snapping her back to the present. He stood up tall, eyes narrowed like a predator. "Don't move."
"I wasn't planning on," Isabella muttered under her breath, barely audible—but of course, Kian heard her.
