It was barely morning when Ace heard movement in his room. His eyes snapped open, already becoming alert. Ever since the incident at Shelled, he has become extra conscious, even in his sleep. He woke to little movement, and even a change in the wind would wake him up.
He would never go back to the unguarded person he once was, at least not until the war was over. He sat in bed, and his eyes glowed in the dark, wanting to know who was now in his room. Judging from the steps alone, whoever it was, seemed relaxed—maybe clumsy.
They didn’t seem like attackers. Yet he couldn’t trust them. The footsteps came to his door, and they stopped moving.
When the door cracked open, Ace was already on his feet, ready for an attack. Clumsy or not, someone was in his room in his house, and they were unin
