There are places to hide here. I can’t deny that.
But I have no hope springing in my chest. No delusions that, even if I find somewhere to hide, Rust won’t find me.
If he wins that fight, or at least manages to get away and get a headstart, I am absolutely fucked.
No matter where I hide.
But that’s not the only reason tendrils of fear lash in my gut.
Buildings that are still standing…?
I’ve learned in my time with the fae unit what that means.
People.
Survivors.
Almost every single time.
And I could be walking right into their territory, their den, their bullshit sense of safety.
The smart thing to do would be to switch off the light and bunker down in one of these cars. Like,now.
But there’s more to worry about than other people surviving out here.
I don’t fancy facing off with Rust if he catches up to me. And hiding in a car out in the open makes it too easy for him.
I should keep moving.
Find bleach to cover my scent, hide or follow the road, I don’t know. And I don’t know what’s happening back there in the fight.
I ran for so long that it felt like hours. But maybe it was only one hour, or half an hour, or not that long at all.
I can’t hear it.
The fight, metal clashing, shouts—
It’s completely silent. Not even the cars groan in the cold.
But fae are quiet when they want to be.
Rust could sneak up on me now and slice my throat before I even know he’s upon me.
All to spill my blood for something Ramona did.
Fae are a lot of things, but one thing that surprises me about these ancient, fierce creatures is that they are just—
So.
Fucking.
Dramatic.
Like, risking his own life to take out someone who was just there when an entirely different person offended him?
Come on.
My eyes would roll if I had the energy, or even the flicker of humour to break through the dense dread weighing me down.
