OPERATION WINTERSPINE (Strings Between Us Book 2)

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: OF DEADLY ARROWS, THREAD OF CHAOS AND SHOTS OF FAITH

Her gaze flicked quickly to KD. He was still close, breathing uneven, his hands trembling. That flicker of unease behind his eyes—the one she could never ignore—gnawed at her like a sharp blade. Not today. Not while I'm here.

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the scattered huddle of students and teachers.

KD stood at the edge of the shattered shelter, his heart hammering wildly—like a drumbeat out of sync with his shallow, uneven breaths. Every instinct screamed at him to shout, to yank her back, to shield her from the blood and chaos. But his voice caught in his throat.

He was frozen, eyes glued to Riyee's lethal dance—each arrow loosed, each precise strike tearing through the air like a silent promise of death. How was she so calm? So sure?

Fear twisted inside him, raw and jagged. What if this was the last time he saw her move like this? What if she faltered, or worse—fell? The thought clawed at his chest, tightening like a vise.

He wanted to protect her, but he couldn't. All he could do was watch—and hope.

As Riyee fired the Pulse Arrow, KD's breath caught in his throat. The sharp, vibrating pulse echoed deep inside him, reverberating like a warning bell in his bones.

He could almost feel the fear and aggression radiating from the hidden enemies, invisible threads of danger weaving through the air around them.

The thought that they were being watched, hunted—it froze him momentarily. He swallowed hard, fighting the urge to retreat behind the fragile shelter and hide.

But there was nowhere to hide—not while Riyee was out there, bearing the full weight of this violent storm.

With a flick of her wrist, she unleashed a Tether Arrow. It split midair into two razor-sharp shafts that whipped around the two nearest foes, binding them in taut, invisible chains of raw energy. The attackers struggled, twisting futilely.

"Gotcha," she whispered, voice low and cold.

The murmurs from the crowd faded into a dull roar. Whispers of awe and fear rippled through the spectators.

"Did you see that?" a student gasped. "She just took down two like they were nothing!"

"Look at the glow on her arrows... it's like magic!" another breathed.

Her focus sharpened to a pinpoint. Time slowed, the world narrowing down to the rhythm of her breath, the beat of her heart.

She readied her signature move — Lunar Veil.

Three arrows launched in unison, bursting midair into storms of swirling light and shadow. Blinding flashes fractured the enemy lines, igniting chaos with every pulse. Shouts collided with gunfire, sparks erupted, and the bitter tang of sweat and gunpowder thickened the air.

Then, like a wraith stitched from dusk and flame, Riyee vanished — teleporting with fluid grace into melee range. Her blades hummed to life, electric pulses rippling along their edges, slicing the silence like thunder.

Marked by her pulse arrows, the targets became hers to command.

In a seamless flurry, she struck: a precise slash severing defenses, a disarming kick sending foes sprawling. Energy crackled around her; the metallic scent of steel filled her senses as the battlefield blurred into a lethal ballet of blades and force.

Seven seconds.

That was all she needed.

When the last attacker fell, a heavy silence reclaimed the dome.