What if I kill them?
She clenched her jaw.
“I won’t,” she whispered.
A thrum of want, thick and metallic, rose behind her teeth. The air tasted sharper. Richer. The Hunger curled through her chest like smoke, and with it came the familiar need, quiet but insistent, urging her totake.
“No,” she growled. “Not them. Not Josh’s friends.”
She had made a promise to protect them, both from the danger of those who didn’t understand Josh’s mission and, most of all, from herself. Until Josh returned, that vow was the only thing keeping her sane.
A dry smile pulled at her lips as she considered the men she was returning to. Well-intentioned to a fault. Righteous, headstrong, and utterly convinced they were saving the world.
“How much trouble could a bunch of do-gooders really get into?” she asked aloud, mostly to herself.
The answer hovered in the back of her mind:probably a lot.
Still, her resolve held, for now.
The town surfaced against the horizon, its jagged rooftops striking at the morning light, familiar in shape, forgettable in name. She’d seen hundreds like it crumble to ash under her hands. The same patched roofs. The same muddy lanes. The same buzz of ordinary life moving forward, oblivious to the danger that could come from within or beyond.
She swung down from the saddle, the soles of her boots thudding against sunbaked ground.
Exhaling, she let Empty Night fall in step beside her and started walking.
Chickens darted under hanging laundry, wings flapping. A woman beat a carpet on a nearby stoop, each strike landing with a dull thud. Cart wheels creaked under their loads. From the horse stalls, an elderly man hefted a bale of hay with visible effort, offering hera strained smile and a gruff, “Good morning,” as she passed. Somewhere ahead, the scent of baking meat pies drifted from an open window, savory and rich, tugging at her senses with a hunger not rooted in blood.
There was something strangely comforting in the bustle. She was an outsider, but for now, she was welcomed. As one of Joshua’s companions, she carried a borrowed trust that softened the wary edges of this place. It was a novelty she had never known before meeting him and Malachi.
She caught herself walking slower, shoulders loosening. A breath stole in too deep and stuck halfway down, tight behind her sternum. The normalcy walking around her wasn’t for her, but some part of her wanted it anyway, enough that it ached.
A burst of laughter cut through the morning noise, too close, too fast. Rynna’s head snapped toward it just as a boy broke from the crowd and sprinted straight for them.
Every muscle went taut, and she reached instinctively for the reins.
Empty Night had no patience for surprises. The mare’s reputation was written in bruises and snapped bones, and not once had Rynna felt the need to defend against it. But the reins stayed slack in her hands. Empty Night held her ground. There was no snort or sidestep. Just a long exhale, as she lowered her massive head.
The boy raised a hand to the mare’s nose. And Empty Night didn’t balk.
Rynna gaped.
Her throat went tight. Nothing about the moment made sense.
Snowballs in hell, Rynna thought. Was the horse just waiting for the perfect moment to stomp the kid into paste?
But the boy only smiled. He reached beneath his shirt and pulled out a vibrant, golden apple, holding it up with both hands.
Empty Night sniffed once, then let out a sound that could only be described as a joyful whinny. She took the fruit with careful bites like she’d just been offered the finest delicacy in the realm.
Rynna blinked.
“What the shit, girl?” she muttered, stepping forward and placing a hand on the mare’s velvety nose.
Empty Night responded with a full-body eyeroll. One massive, obsidian eye tilted toward Rynna, judging, before she plucked the rest of the apple from the boy’s hand and turned casually toward the stables.
Stunned, Rynna reached into her purse and pulled out a copper coin.
“Here.” She handed it to the boy with a grateful nod.
