"By the gods," the leader breathed, his voice dropping to a reverent whisper. "Itisher. The Hallowed." His hand twitched toward his weapon—or perhaps reaching for her—excitement igniting in his eyes. "Let me get a taste. Just a small one. I've heard what her blood can do..."
A shiver traced down Elara's spine, her pulse pounding in her ears. She inched closer to the Hunter, the rough fabric of his cloak brushing against her fingers.
"Touch her," he said softly, "and you'll lose more than just your hand."
Their faces darkened, any pretense of respect dissolving into something uglier. “You gonna keep her all to yourself, then?" The leader snarled, spitting on the ground near the Hunter's boots. "While we're out here scraping by? Dealing with shortages, shaking from the damned withdrawals? And you won't share abloodydrop?" He stepped closer, desperation edging into his rough voice. "I'm not talking about maiming her—just need a bit of her blood, that's all I?—"
His hand darted forward, grimy fingers stretching toward Elara, hunger gleaming in his eyes.
It happened so fast she barely registered it. One heartbeat, his filthy nails hovered inches from her skin; the next, a metallic crack split the air as the Hunter’s hand snapped to his side. A slide-shaft glaive extended—gleaming steel slicing forward witha lethal whisper. The blade met flesh. The Legionnaire’s arm severed cleanly at the elbow, the limb striking the cobblestones with a nauseating thud.
Before the second guard could gasp, the glaive whirled back, slicing through flesh, and bone as if they were air. The man's head toppled from his shoulders, eyes still wide with unspoken shock as it rolled to a stop against the alley wall.
Elara stood frozen, breath caught in her throat, the world narrowing to the metallic scent of blood and the phantom whisper of the glaive retracting back into the Hunter's cloak. His hood slipped back, eyes dark and deadly, strands of raven hair falling across his forehead. Blood spattered his cloak and face, but his breathing remained steady—as if dispatching his comrades hadn't fazed him in the slightest.
The man who’d lost his arm crumpled, mouth open in a silent scream, but no sound came. Elara’s heart pounded, breath caught in her throat, her mind racing to catch up. And then she felt it. The shift as the Hunter seized the wind, drawing it in and wrenching it tight, choking off the Legionnaires’ scream before it could escape.
And not just him. All of them. The wind was being drained from the alley,siphonedfrom their lungs.
The remaining guards staggered, eyes wide with panic, clawing at their throats as they fought for breath that wouldn't come. Their faces flushed, veins standing out starkly against their skin as terror contorted their features.
They couldn't breathe. No one could. Except for her.
"Hunter," Elara whispered, her voice barely more than a rasp. He didn't respond. His gaze was distant, fixed on some point beyond the physical, lost in the tempest of his own making. "Hunter!" she called again, louder, the word tearing from her throat. Still nothing.
Elara reached out, her fingers trembling as they pressed against the stubble of his jaw, turning his face toward her. “Ivan,” she whispered, the name slipping from her lips like a confession.
The effect was immediate. His eyes snapped into focus, the inky darkness receding as clarity flooded back. He stared at her, startled as the oppressive air eased, a gust of wind rushing back into the alley.
Around them, the Legionnaires collapsed to the ground, gulping in ragged breaths, the color returning to their faces. The sounds of the alley filtered back in—the distant clatter of a falling crate, a dog's bark carrying somewhere far off.
Elara didn't move, her hand still cradling his face, their gazes locked. She could see the conflict swirling in his eyes—uncertainty, fear, something deeper she couldn't name.
He blinked, swallowing hard, and her hand fell away.
The clatter of soldiers scrambling to their feet echoed dimly, their panicked footsteps fading as they vanished down the alley. But Elara couldn't tear her gaze from him. Her heart thundered—not just her own heartbeat but his as well, two rhythms merging into one steady drum. It pulsed in her throat, and as she drew a shaky breath, she felt him do the same.
The sensation spun her world off its axis, dizzying and intimate. She pressed a hand to her chest, fingers brushing against the cool metal of the necklace resting against her skin. The shard he’d given her. That had to be it. The reason everything felt so unbearably intense.
He’d killed those men—had cut them down without a second thought, crushed the breath from their lungs. For her.
No. Her mind pushed back, rationalizing against the swirl of emotions. It wasn’t for her. It was for him. For whatever mission he was on. She was just a complication he had to protect.
“They saw me,” Elara whispered, stating the obvious. Her eyes drifted back to the alley, where shadows cloaked the still bodies left behind. Blood pooled around them, dark and glistening like spilled ink seeping into the cracks of the cobblestones. A chill brushed over her skin.
"I'll handle it," the Hunter said. He didn't spare a glance backward. "Come on. We're almost there."
Without another word, he started walking, his pace fast, too fast for the tension still coiled in her muscles. She had to jog to catch up. “What were they talking about?” she asked, breathless. “The shortages, withdrawals?—”
The Hunter didn’t answer immediately, his footsteps stopping in front of a dilapidated wooden door. He turned to her then, eyes flicking to the necklace around her neck, the faint glow of the stone resting against her skin.
“Ask me later.”
Elara opened her mouth to argue, a dozen questions bubbling up. But before she could utter a single word, he raised his fist and knocked.
Chapter 32
The door creaked open, revealing a young woman with short blonde hair that stuck up on one side, as if she’d just woken up. Her steel-blue eyes flicked over Elara and the Hunter in one quick glance. Barefoot, her toes curled against the cracked wooden floor as she gave him a questioning look.
