It reflected off the wet leaves just ten yards away.

“She came this way,” a voice said.

“The dog’s tracks are fresh in the mud.”

I shrank back against the trunk of a massive oak tree.

The light flickered closer, bouncing off the wet bark.

I reached down and gripped Bishop’s collar, my fingers trembling.

“Stay,” I whispered, my voice shaking.

But Bishop’s muscles were tense.

He was vibrating with a deep, silent energy.

He looked up at me, his yellow eyes glowing in the faint light.

In his eyes, there was no fear.

There was only a fierce, ancient recognition.

He knew who was coming.

And he knew what he had to do.

The flashlight beam swept over the tree trunk.

It landed directly on my face, blinding me.

“I found her,” a man called out into the dark.

A tall figure stepped out of the darkness, holding a gun.

His face was partially covered by a dark hood.

But I could see the cold grin on his lips.

My heart stopped.

My phone, still in my coat pocket, suddenly began to vibrate violently.