?Chapter 1221:


    “This isn’t fair! God, why does it always have to be me? I can’t ept this… Why is it that I fail at everything…”


    Jarrod pressed his weight against the blood-smeared rock, his awareness slipping away like a voice dissolving into the distance. Fire tore through his back, and every breath widened the wound, as if his flesh were being ripped open with each inhale.


    But the despair drowning him was heavier than the pain.


    Scenes red behind his dimming eyes, rushing past like fractured film.


    A small Maia, her hair tied into pigtails, rose on tiptoe to slip a candy into his palm. “Take it. It’s yours, Jarrod.”


    When he’d hidden in the woodshed after failing an exam, a younger Maia had nudged the door open and stumbled through a silly joke until she doubled over withughter.


    He remembered how Maia always pushed the lone drumstick from her bowl into his while she chewed vegetables with a smile. “I don’t really like meat that much.”


    So small, and yet she tried so hard to make him happy. Other than his parents, nearly every scrap of warmth in Jarrod’s life was tied to Maia.


    Once, he had spoken to her withplete sincerity. “Maia, I’m older than you. Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you.”


    But what had be of those words?


    Somewhere along the way, he had let them fade. All he could remember now were Rosanna’s usations—that Maia had once been a thief, that she was the one who ruined his family.


    The memories twisted and darkened, dragging Jarrod back to the side of his parents’ bed, where theyy suspended in endless silence. There, he had sworn again and again that Maia would die by his hand.


    Yet he no longer remembered that Maia had once been his family—the very person he’d vowed to keep safe.


    A gunshot cracked through the stillness, splitting the forest in two. Birds burst from the trees, wings beating frantically against the sky.


    Jarrod’s eyes flew open in shock. The brown bear bolted in terror, crashing through the brush and vanishing deep into the woods.


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    “I’m saved…” His lips barely moved, the words escaping in the faintest whisper.


    But before Jarrod could even breathe in relief, a cold barrel mmed against his temple. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”


    Jarrod’s eyelids drooped. He fought to lift them, forcing his gaze upward.


    A bearded man stood over him—middle-aged, broad-shouldered, with eyes sharp and unyielding, like a hunter long ustomed to danger. Jarrod tried to answer, but the world pitched. His vision swam, and his body slid sideways against the blood-stained rock.


    The man’s eyes narrowed as he noticed the raw w marks raked across Jarrod’s back. A frown pulled at his brow.


    He crouched, rifled through Jarrod’s pockets, and found nothing that resembled a weapon.


    “Did I imagine the threat?” he muttered, scanning the forest’s edge. For ten long years, he had hidden here, always on guard against those who wanted him dead.


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