"You used me."
"Yes."
"I was just an asset to you. A key to the land."
Alaric moves. He winces, sucking in a breath through his teeth, but he shifts his hand from my lap. He brings his blood-stained fingers up to my face, turning my chin so I have to look at him. Even in the dark, his eyes are intense. Burning.
"Look at me, Elodie." I look. "I came for the land," he confesses. "Seven years ago, I opened that file, and I saw a fortune. I saw a way to expand my empire. I saw a resource."
His thumb strokes my cheek. "But then I heard you play." His voice drops. It loses the clinical edge. It becomes raw. "I stood outside that practice room in Vienna. It was snowing then, too. And I heard you playing that Nocturne. You were eighteen. You were wearing a blue coat. You looked... shattered."
He leans his forehead against my temple. "And I realized... I didn't give a damn about the minerals. I didn't care about the billions. I wanted the sound. I wanted the rage inside you. I wanted to be the one who made you scream like that."
"You're obsessed," I breathe.
"I am devoted," he counters. "There is a difference. An obsession takes. Devotion gives." He kisses my hair. "I gave you the truth, Elodie. I gave you your freedom. I gave you the gun. Does that feel like I’m using you?"
I touch the SIG Sauer tucked into my waistband. It’s heavy. Cold. Real. My father gave me pills to make me weak. Alaric gave mea weapon to make me strong. My father wanted me dead (or effectively dead). Alaric is currently bleeding to death to keep me alive.
The line between monster and savior has dissolved completely. "No," I whisper. "It feels like love."
Alaric freezes. "Don't call it that," he growls, a warning note in his voice. "Love is soft. Love is flowers and chocolates and lies. What we have... is survival. It is iron. It is blood."
"Call it what you want," I say, leaning back into him, accepting his weight. "But you're not dying tonight, Alaric Graves. Because I forbid it."
He chuckles darkly. "Yes, Director."
We sit in silence for a while. The heat from our bodies is trapped inside the leather jacket, creating a small bubble of warmth in the freezing night. I start to doze. The exhaustion is pulling me under, a black tide.Just for a minute,I think.Just close your eyes for a minute.
SNAP.
The sound is distant. But distinct. It is not the wind. It is the sound of a heavy branch breaking under pressure. Down in the valley.
Alaric stiffens against my back. He heard it too. "Elodie," he whispers.
"I heard it."
We hold our breath. Listening. The wind shifts. And then we hear it. A low, rhythmic sound.Huff... Huff... Huff...Panting. And the jingle of metal tags.
"Dogs," Alaric says. The word is a curse.
My blood runs cold. "They brought dogs?"
"They’re hunting," he says. "Tracking dogs. Belgian Malinois or German Shepherds. Fast. Vicious." He struggles to sit up straighter, reaching for his empty holster before remembering he gave me the gun. "They have my scent," he says grimly. "The blood. It’s a beacon."
"How far?"
"Half a mile. Maybe less. They move faster than we do."
He pushes me forward. "You have to go."
"No."
"Elodie, listen to me!" He grabs my shoulders, shaking me. "You can't fight dogs. They will tear you apart. They are trained to maim. You have the gun. You have a head start. Climb the ridge. Get to the high ground. If you can cross the river, you lose the scent."
"And leave you here? As bait?"
"Iambait!" he roars. "I can't walk! I’m dead weight! If you stay, we both die. If you go... you survive. You protect the Trust. You win."
