Zara leaned against the crumbled remains of the tower, catching her breath. The air was thick with smoke and dust, and every muscle in her body screamed in exhaustion. Rowan sat a few feet away, his rifle resting across his knees as he scanned the rubble with uneasy eyes.
"Do you think it's really dead?" he asked, breaking the tense silence.
"It better be," Zara muttered, pulling a water flask from her belt and taking a small sip. "We don't have the ammo or the explosives to deal with another one."
Rowan chuckled nervously, but the humor didn't reach his eyes. He wiped sweat and grime from his brow, then turned to Zara. "So, what's next? We've destroyed the stronghold, taken down one of the King's abominations… feels like we should be celebrating, right?"
Zara didn't answer immediately. Her sharp gaze was fixed on the horizon, where the faint glow of dawn was beginning to push back the night. "This was just the beginning," she said finally, her voice low. "The King won't let this go unanswered. We need to keep moving, stay ahead of him."
Rowan nodded, though his expression was far from confident. "You think he knows we're coming for him?"
Zara's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Oh, he knows. And he's afraid."
Before Rowan could respond, a faint noise reached their ears—distant, but unmistakable. The rumble of engines. Zara stiffened, her hand instinctively going to the pistol at her side.
"Trouble," she whispered. "Get down."
The two of them crouched behind a pile of rubble, peering into the haze. Moments later, three vehicles emerged, their headlights cutting through the smoke. The vehicles stopped a short distance away, and a group of armed figures disembarked.
Zara's heart sank as she recognized the emblem on their gear: a red serpent coiled around a crown. The King's elite hunters.
"Great," Rowan muttered. "Just what we needed."
"Stay quiet," Zara hissed, her mind racing. They were outnumbered and outgunned. Direct confrontation wasn't an option.
The hunters began to fan out, their movements precise and disciplined. Zara's sharp eyes caught a glimpse of their leader—a tall, imposing figure clad in black armor, a cruel-looking blade strapped to his back. He barked orders to his team, his voice cold and authoritative.
"They're searching for survivors," Zara whispered. "We need to slip past them."
Rowan glanced at her, his expression doubtful. "How? They'll spot us the second we move."
Zara reached into her pouch and pulled out a small smoke grenade. "Not if we create a distraction."
Rowan's eyes widened. "You're not seriously—"
"Trust me," Zara cut him off. "When the smoke goes up, head for the eastern ridge. I'll cover you."
Before he could argue, Zara pulled the pin and tossed the grenade. A thick cloud of smoke erupted, obscuring their position. Shouts rang out as the hunters scrambled, their formation breaking.
"Go!" Zara hissed, shoving Rowan toward the ridge.
As Rowan disappeared into the smoke, Zara drew her pistol and prepared to hold the line.