CRACK-BOOM.
The roof collapses. The burning cabin folds in on itself like a house of cards. Burning logs and tin roofing slide down, burying the front porch—and the men standing on it. Screams. Then silence. Only the roar of the fire remains.
I run back to Alaric. He is lying in the snow, watching the inferno with a dark satisfaction. The heat of the fire melts the snow around us.
"You brought the house down," he whispers, a bloody grin on his face. "My chaotic girl."
I fall to my knees beside him. "Are they dead?"
"Buried," he says. "Or burning. Either way... we bought time."
He reaches up and touches my face. His hand is cold, but his touch burns. "You are the Queen," he says. "I was right."
I look at the fire destroying our shelter. We are out in the open. No car. No house. No phone. But I feel something strange. I don't feel afraid. I feel lethal.
"We need to move," I say, helping him up. "Before the rest of them come."
"Where?" he asks, leaning on me.
I look into the dark forest. "You said you had five safe houses." I adjust the gun in my waistband. "Let's go find Bravo."
We turn and walk into the darkness. Behind us, the fire rages, a beacon in the night. But we are already ghosts. And the Long Night has only just begun.
CHAPTER 18
THE WOLF AND THE LAMB
POV: Elodie Fray
Location:The Deep Woods (North of the Ruins) -> The Limestone Cavern
Track:Wolf– Skott
Sensory:The numbness of frostbitten toes, the copper taste of exhaustion, the distant baying of hounds.
Mood:Grim Determination & Reckless Devotion.
We are walking into the void.
The forest has swallowed the light of the burning cabin, leaving us in a world painted in shades of charcoal and obsidian. The snow is no longer a blanket; it is quicksand. Every step is a battle against physics, a brutal negotiation with gravity. My boots sink knee-deep, the crust of ice breaking with a sound like snapping bones, over and over again.Crunch. Snap. Drag.
Alaric is a dead weight against my side. The adrenaline that fueled his escape from the cabin is evaporating, leaving behind the wreckage of a body pushed too far. His arm is draped over my shoulders, heavy as a fallen tree. I have my arm wrapped around his waist, my fingers gripping the belt loops of his jeans through the leather jacket I’m wearing—hisjacket.
He stumbles. I brace my legs, gritting my teeth, and haul him back up. "Keep moving," I hiss, the wind tearing the words from my lips. "Don't you dare stop, Alaric. Do you hear me? Rhythm. Find the rhythm."
"Rhythm is... broken," he slurs. His head hangs low, his chin knocking against his chest.
"Then improvise," I command.
I look at his face in the pale moonlight filtering through the pine boughs. He is terrifyingly pale, his skin the color of old marble. The bandage on his shoulder is soaked through, a dark, wet patch that is freezing in the night air. He is running on fumes. He is dying by inches.
And I am dragging him through hell.
The irony isn't lost on me. Three weeks ago, he was the monster dragging me into the dark. He was the one with the power, the keys, the drugs. I was the lamb, trembling in the corner. Now? Now the wolf is bleeding out in the snow, and the lamb has a gun in her waistband and murder in her heart.
We trudge for another mile. Or maybe ten. Time has lost its meaning. There is only the cold. It bites through the leather jacket. It gnaws at my fingers. It turns my breath into shards of glass in my lungs.Hypothermia,my brain whispers.It starts with shivering. Then confusion. Then you just want to sleep.
"Elodie..." Alaric’s voice is a ghost of a sound. "Stop. Leave me."
