I tighten my grip on my knife, ready to draw blood.
Dove
My hunter draws closer, and I retreat farther against the wall, danger crawling down my spine in cold shivers.
I fill my lungs with more air, knowing I’m going to have to move fast.
Three.
Two.
One.
I detach myself from the wall, my lungs burning from the strain of my effort. But I run—I run as fast as my legs will take me and don’t look back. I make it to the next corner, my eyes already narrowing on another one. Nothing moves behind me. Maybe I’ve lost them.
But the skull mask coming into view in the darkness ahead of me tells me otherwise, and the knife pointed at my neck makesevery atom in my body stop. I stare into a pair of two soulless eyes, an arm tightening around my upper body, pulling me close.
“There you are.”
Rowan
Warm, pulsing skin rests against the tip of my knife. My grip on the handle tightens and loosens up as I take in the face before me—one I thought I’d never see again . “No,” I say, staring into a pair of eyes I know too well. “This isn’t possible…” The words die on my tongue, taking him in, regret swimming in his eyes as he says—
“Easy, Rowan,easy.”
I grip Cole’s collar with my free hand and flick my eyes down, noticing the patch of blood drenching the side of his abdomen. He’s been shot, or stabbed… it’s hard to tell.
“Rowan,” he echoes cautiously.
Slowly, he tilts his knife so the handle faces me. My eyes snap to the motion instantly, my grip tightening. Stunned and barely able to form words, I ask, “How?”
How is he still alive?
He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he opens his palm, letting his knife clatter to the ground. “I…” His voice cracks, and he dips his head, breaking eye contact. “It’s a story for another time.”
I see red, wrath and betrayal and hurt and sadness and despair flashing through me all at the same time. All these years, all I did was hate my existence when I knew it should’ve beenmeinsteadof him who died. And he was here all along and never reached out. It doesn’t make any fucking sense why he wouldn’t do that.
I exhale slowly, trying to reel back my control—and failing—as I stare at him through my skull mask. I push him into the wall with everything I’ve got, making the air in his lungs come gusting out. His lips curl into a bittersweet smile. He doesn’t try to explain, doesn’t try to justify. He just nods, like he’s been carrying the same weight all this time.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
But sorry doesn’t cut it. Sorry doesn’t erase the years I’ve spent clawing my way through hell, believing he was gone.God fucking dammit!As much as I want to keep tearing into him, the thought of Dove—myDove—out there, waiting for me, cuts through the haze.
“Where is she?” I ask, without loosening my grip on him.
“I got her out of where they had her locked in, then sent her here to find you when I got ambushed and fought them off.”
“Fought them off,” I echo, trying to piece things together.
“You have no reason to trust me, I know that. But your coming here helped me start a rebellion on the inside. My men are out there, fighting the same enemy yours are.”
I search his face, looking for a lie, but all I see is the same man I once knew—older, broken, but still him. My heart wants answers, but my head pushes them aside for now.
Hawke’s voice crackles in my earpiece, cutting through the chaos in my head.
I look to the side, focusing on his words.
And upon registering them, my entire body sags, and I almost drop to my knees.
