Chapter 12: Shadows of Truth

The desert stretched endlessly before her, sun blazing, rocks jagged, wind stirring dust that clung to her hair and clothes. Mika Thorn moved slowly but deliberately, hopping on her crutches, revolver strapped to her hip, eyes sharp, ears attuned to every sound. Every step, every careful pivot along the rocky ridges, reminded her of her previous failures—but also of the fire that had driven her back to the hunt.

And then she saw him.

He was seated on a fallen log, unarmed, head bowed slightly, glasses reflecting the harsh sunlight. His posture was unguarded, almost weary. For the first time, Mika saw a vulnerability in the man who had bested her, mocked her, and survived every clever trap she had attempted.

“Teacher,” she said cautiously, revolver resting at her side. Her voice was wary, unsure if this was a trap or a rare moment of honesty.

He lifted his head slowly, eyes meeting hers, shadowed and heavy. “Mika,” he said softly, voice carrying both exhaustion and something like sorrow. “You ... you’ve come far. Too far, perhaps.”