Forrest's POV
He was hunting frogs.
Well, technically, he was testing a frog-based perimeter alarm system—one that involved motion sensors, croaking decoys, and an ill-advised amount of peanut butter. But really, he was just avoiding paperwork and annoying Ridge in equal measure.
The forest around the southern border was quiet, still bathed in the golden blush of early evening. Birds chirped faintly overhead, and the crunch of leaves underfoot was the only sound Forrest paid attention to—until it wasn't.
Until everything stopped.
No breeze. No birds.
Just silence.
The hairs on the back of Forrest's neck rose like soldiers preparing for battle. He straightened slowly, eyes scanning the tree line.
Then—
A flutter of wings.
There. Perched on a low-hanging branch, staring directly at him.
A crow.
Jet-black, feathers too smooth, too polished. It wasn't preening or cawing like a normal bird. It simply watched. Unblinking. And those eyes—
Red.
