The window was cracked open—cold air leaking through, teasing the edges of Kate's hair.

It was late. Late enough that the street below had gone quiet. Late enough that the pizza box on the coffee table had stopped smelling like food.

Kate stood by the kitchen counter, bow propped against the wall, fingers tapping.

She'd been home for an hour. Couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

Then the window slid open.

You didn't make a sound.

One moment there was empty space, the next you were inside. Metal arm gleaming in the dim light.

Kate's hand twitched toward her bow.