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Sweat dripped down their brows, their breaths came in ragged gasps, and their faces were masks of fear and desperation.

The air was thick with tension, the weight of their failed assassination attempt hanging over them like a curse.

Scarred Soldier, who had been leading the charge, finally came to a halt, doubling over to catch his breath.

He placed a hand on his knee, his other hand gripping his side where a stitch was forming.

The others stopped as well, forming a loose, disorganized circle around him.

Younger Woman leaned against a tree, her face pale, her hands trembling.

The Tall Man with a Spear held his weapon tightly, his knuckles white, while Donovan, Theran, Miriam, and Mikhail exchanged uneasy glances.