Aria had been waiting for days, compulsively checking her emails, resisting the urge to call the investigator. She knew he needed time, but her patience was wearing thin. Every hour or so, she'd refresh her inbox, hoping to see a new message—something, anything. To distract herself, she'd thrown herself into training, her bow and arrow offering a momentary escape from the gnawing uncertainty.
She stood now, poised beneath the dappled light filtering through the treehouse's leaves, facing a tree she'd marked with a rough target drawn in pencil. Drawing an arrow, she aimed carefully, exhaling as she released it, and watched as it struck precisely at the center. A small, fleeting sense of satisfaction washed over her.
Without hesitation, Aria lowered her bow and walked over to retrieve the arrow, her thoughts already racing. Should I contact someone else? she wondered. Maybe he's given up. Maybe I'm wasting time.
She reached the tree, pulled the arrow free, and returned to her spot—taking another few paces back this time, pushing herself to test her aim from farther away. Again, she took aim, drew back, and released. The arrow struck the target dead-on. As she approached the tree once more, her frustration simmered. She hated feeling helpless, waiting in silence for answers she couldn't find on her own.
She was just about to nock another arrow when a twig snapped somewhere behind her.
In a heartbeat, Aria spun, her arrow drawn and aimed, ready for whatever—or whoever—was approaching. Her gaze landed on a man standing a few paces away, his arms folded casually as he leaned against a tree, watching her with a calm, assessing look.
"Whoa," he said, raising his hands in a show of surrender. "I'm not here to hurt you. Your father sent me. I'm here to protect you."
Aria's grip tightened on her bow. "So, you've been here all this time, just… watching me?"
"Only for a little while. I wanted to see how you handle a bow." He smiled faintly, looking her over. "Not bad."
She scowled, lowering her weapon but not relaxing. "Right. So, just stand back and keep out of my way. I don't need a babysitter."
"Of course not. Young people always think they can take care of themselves," he replied, amusement flickering across his face, "even when they can't."
Aria scoffed and turned away, resuming her stance as if he wasn't there. The sooner he got bored and left her alone, the better. But even as she tried to ignore him, she could feel his eyes on her. When she let her next arrow fly, she heard him murmur something appreciative, but she didn't respond.
And then, from somewhere inside the treehouse, a notification sounded—a sharp ping that immediately caught her attention. Her laptop. Her heart skipped. She barely took time to draw her arrow out of the tree before slinging her bow over her shoulder and sprinting toward the ladder.
As she climbed, her fingers fumbled, the anticipation making her movements clumsy. She scrambled inside, crossed to her desk, and opened her laptop. There, in her inbox, was a new email—from the investigator.
Finally.
Aria clicked it open, her eyes scanning over the first few lines. "Ma'am, I'll need to meet with you in person to discuss what I've found."
Her pulse quickened. Why does he want to see me in person? She typed a quick response: "Is there a problem?"
Moments later, a reply arrived. "Yes. There is a problem, but it's best discussed face-to-face."
Aria took a steadying breath, her thoughts already racing with the worst possibilities. She sent him the address, heart pounding, and waited as he confirmed he was on his way.
She leaned back, staring at the screen, anxiety swirling in her stomach. What could be so serious that he won't say it in an email? She swallowed, rising to her feet, and peered out the window. Below, her father's so-called protector was still there, now seated on a small mat he'd laid out on the ground, calmly eating from a small container, seemingly oblivious to her mounting dread.
She let out a frustrated sigh. Did my father really need to send someone all the way out here? She dropped onto her bed, the weight of waiting settling over her again, heavier this time as she braced herself for whatever news was coming her way.