Hunting the Nightwing

Staff Sergeant Wren Alcott hunts what the Pentagon won't admit exists. Her target is Vesper Kurov — seven hundred years old, dressed like a defense contractor, and buried so deep in US intelligence that killing him would be a friendly fire incident. She corners him in a flooded boathouse and shoots him twice. He kneels. That should have been the end of the op. Instead his blood binds her — faster, sharper, starving, and feeling his wounds like her own. Every mission they run together pulls the thread tighter, and neither of them knows which side it's dragging the other toward. Then his maker resurfaces, and Vesper does the one thing he swore he never would. He kneels to Wren. For real this time. Break the bond or break the maker — she can't do both and keep him.