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He stared at me as if I were a pawn he was considering putting into play—his dark eyes filled with ruthless calculation.

“The fates have seen fit to push us together more than once. One day, when I need you, you will help me with my own goals.”

It would be difficult for him to find me on another continent. But still, the entitlement in his voice infuriated me. I said nothing, and he seemed content with my silence. Likely, he’d decided I would fall in line with his decrees.

He truly was an idiot.

We plunged deeper into the dense forest. The sounds of the natural world enveloped me, a stark contrast to the turmoil and death we’d just left behind. My heart still raced, each beat a reminder of the gravity of our situation.

Even with tracks the hybrids had left, Calysian’s keen eyes spotted signs of passage I would have missed.

The child’s wailing began again, this time even louder. If not for the looming presence next to me, the child––and all the others in our group––would have been buried together in more unmarked graves.

“You saved a lot of lives today,” I said.

That dark gaze flicked to me, a flash of something I couldn’t identify in his eyes before he nodded curtly.

We approached the hybrids’ chosen hiding spot.Their fear was almost palpable, and it was evident that they hadn’t been able to run any farther. This was where they had decided to take a stand.

My mouth watered as sickness crawled up my throat. They would have died screaming. All because Regner had twisted the minds of those he had raised as iron guards.

A dagger flew through the air toward Calysian. One of the boys attempting to defend the others.

Calysian caught the blade, a deep line appearing between his brows.

“Stand down,” I sighed. “He helped me fight the iron guards.”

The boy gulped. “Are they…”

“That group is dead. We don’t know if there will be more to follow.”

The hybrids gathered their meager belongings, their movements quick but shaky. Calysian watched the scene with an inscrutable expression. “I must leave now.”

I wasn’t surprised. In truth, I was only surprised he’d stayed this long.

His dark gaze speared into me. “Remember what I said.”

I showed him my teeth. “If you attempt to force me into submission, you will regret it.”

The group around us ceased speaking, and I could feel their attention on us. Calysian smiled. “If anyone could achieve such a feat as to make me regret my actions, it would likely be you.”

Without another word, he turned and walked away, melting into the forest. Despite the fact that we no longer had the benefit of his power and sword, some of thetension dissolved from my muscles.

Turning back to the hybrids, I led them forward, toward our next hiding spot—a hidden cave nestled in a thicket. The moon hung in the sky like a gift from the gods, considering how dark the forest had become. Something unwound in my chest. The iron guards would have split all escape routes into sectors. With several of them lying dead in the forest, we likely had a little time to rest.

And we needed it. The supplies had been cleverly warded to keep animals away, and we pulled out more blankets and dried meat. It was too risky to light a fire, so we slept huddled together, the adults taking turns on sentry duty.

At least, the others slept. I couldn’t sleep with the ball of dread heavy in my gut. Each time I closed my eyes, my body reacted with a racing pulse and tense muscles, alert and waiting for the next calamity.

We were up with the sun the next day, trudging through the forest. With its dense canopy and tangled underbrush, it seemed to stretch endlessly before us, various shades of green blaring into a monotonous march. Each step was a battle against the fatigue pressing down on my body.

Our progress was slow, hindered by the ever-present fear of discovery, even now. The constant vigilance, the hushed whispers, the wary glances—all of it combined to further steal what little energy we had left.

The path, strewn with twisted roots and fallen branches, seemed to mock our efforts, our steps becoming shorter, our feet often failing to lift high enough to remove the risk of stumbling. As the day wore on, theweight of exhaustion grew heavier. As did the weight of the children the adults carried. The young girl in my arms had somehow managed to fall asleep, her head nestled into my neck, even as I continually switched her from hip to hip in an effort to ease the weight in my arms and back.

The adults kept a stoic front for the children, but the strain was evident in the deep lines etched on their foreheads, the hunch of their shoulders, the exhaustion in their eyes as the hours wore on.

As the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of pinks and purples, I attempted to remember what came next. I knew we were traveling in the correct direction, but a dense, heavy fog had swept into my mind, and I couldn’t lift the mist enough to determine where we were supposed to stay next.