Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest.
Was she seeing things?
No—those were definitely Zane’s handwriting.
“What are you waiting for? Hurry up and drink!”
The local contact snapped at her.
Neely’s eyes were fixed on her hand that held the ladle, his lips drawn tight with suspicion.
In that instant, Elara understood: Neely didn’t trust the local man at all—he was using her as a guinea pig to test whether the water was safe.
Her hand trembled as she brought the ladle to her lips, ready to fake a sip. But at the last moment, she let her grip go slack.
With a sharp clang, the ladle crashed to the ground, water splashing everywhere.
“S-sorry… My hand slipped,” she stammered, voice shaky. “Could I have another?”
“Useless!” the man spat. “If you won’t drink, you can die of thirst for all I care—I’m not here to babysit you.”
He cursed under his breath, then turned to call Neely into the house for food.
Seeing everything appear routine, Neely’s expression eased. He scooped up water with another ladle and drank deeply, head tipped back.
The man watched him, and for a split second, an unnatural flicker crossed his face.
“You’re playing games with me.”
Neely caught that tiny crack in the man’s mask. In a flash, he dropped the ladle, drew a knife from his belt, and hurled it straight at the man’s chest.
The blade found its mark—right in the heart.
Even as the man crumpled, Neely spun around and launched himself at Elara, aiming to take her hostage.
It all happened in the blink of an eye.
But just as he lunged through the air, a blur of green shot out from behind the hay bales—ramming into him with full force and sending him flying.
Neely slammed hard against the earthen wall at the edge of the yard with a heavy thud.
But he was fast. Rolling to his feet, he immediately dropped into a defensive stance, knife hand ready.

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