Page 24

I swallow a bitter taste. The idea of him killing to protect me sits uneasily in my chest, but the alternative—being dragged back to the fortress or handed over to the Alpha’s decrees—is unthinkable. “What if they find us anyway?”

His gaze flicks to my collar. “Then we fight. Or we flee deeper into the woods. But running blindly invites other threats.”

Dread and frustration tangle in my gut. My hands shake. “I don’t want to be captured again,” I rasp.

“I won’t let that happen,” he says, voice low and fierce. Something in his tone steadies me despite my fear.

We wait in tense silence for what feels like hours. The voices drift closer, then fade. Twigs snap, leaves rustle. My muscles ache from crouching. After an agonizing wait, the forest grows quiet once more, the hush returning to an uneasy normal.

Korrin peers over the ridge again, then exhales. “They’re gone.”

My knees nearly give out from relief. But the tension in the air remains, a promise that they might come back with reinforcements. I rise carefully, arms trembling. “They know someone’s here.”

He nods, wings flaring slightly. “They suspect. We can’t be certain they won’t return.”

We exchange a long look, neither of us voicing the fear that tomorrow or the next day might bring an entire squad. I clench my fists, wishing desperately for the freedom to run from this place. But Korrin is right. Running blindly isn’t a solution.

Later that evening, the weight of this looming threat presses heavily on me. I stand near the broken arch at the tower’s edge, gazing out into the dusk-lit forest. The air smells of pine and damp earth. Somewhere, an owl hoots, making me jump. My nerves are frayed.

Korrin appears behind me, silent as always. My chest twists with relief at his presence, though I refuse to show it. It sickens me that I rely on him so much. I cross my arms over my chest, keeping my gaze forward.

He remains a pace behind, a hulking shadow in the gathering dark. “You all right?” he asks quietly.

Am I? The memory of dark elf voices in the mist replays in my mind. I force a bitter laugh. “No. But it seems I have no choice.”

His claws scrape gently across the stone floor. “Choice in what?”

I whirl, glaring. “In trusting you.” The admission comes out more raw than I intend. “I never wanted this. But if they’re out there, I can’t survive alone.”

His eyes gleam with that molten light. “You resent needing me.”

I grit my teeth. “Wouldn’t you?”

A flicker of sympathy crosses his face. “Yes,” he admits. “But I’m glad you haven’t tried to run off in your anger. It would end badly for you.”

My temper flares, but it’s tempered by harsh reality. “I know. That doesn’t make it easier.”

He takes a half-step closer, tension coiled in his body. “I’ll keep watch every night until we’re sure they’ve moved on. But if they return in force, we have to be ready to leave.”

I nod, biting my lip. “And where will we go?”

His shoulders slump. “I’m… not certain. Farther north, maybe. There are places in the mountains where neither dark elves nor gargoyles roam freely. But it’s a hard journey.”

The thought of a trek through unknown terrain twists my stomach, but the alternative is captivity or death. “I’ll do it if we must,” I whisper. “I won’t be a slave again.”

He exhales, wings rustling. The faint torchlight from our campfire flickers over his face, highlighting the ridges of his horns. “Then we agree.”

A fragile moment settles between us. My anger and fear swirl beneath the surface, but for once, I let myself feel the solace of having someone standing by me. I hate that it’s a gargoyle who once was sworn to kill my kind. But here he is, arms folded, gaze scanning the perimeter like a sentinel.

I shake my head, turning back to the archway. A ragged sigh escapes me. “I still loathe this collar,” I say, voice ragged. “But I’m beginning to see… you’re the only one who’ll keep me safe.”

He hesitates. “I never wanted you to wear it. But I can’t remove it yet. Not without risking everything if we cross paths with my kin.”

Bitterness churns, but I clamp it down. “Promise me that if we make it to those mountains—if we find somewhere hidden—you’ll remove it.”

He steps closer, the warmth of his body brushing my shoulder. My heart jolts at his nearness, the memory of our tangled limbs. “I promise,” he murmurs. “I hate it as much as you do.”

I glance up, startled by the sincerity in his tone. Our eyes meet, and the embers of that night stir in my chest. My breath catches. For a beat, I think he might touch me, might close the small distance between us. But he only stands there, tension crackling.