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“I’m not a child! I can help you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“That farm is all you’ve ever known, am I right? You’re ignorant of the ways the real world works. It can be dangerous out there—especially for women.”

Her lip curled with annoyance, covering a tremor of fear. Adriel had survived thus far, and modernization should have made the world safer. Shouldn’t it have?

The girl was getting in her head, so she growled, “I’ve seen dangers you couldn’t imagine, and I assure you, I’m much stronger than I look.”

“Probably, sure,” the witch rushed out in a desperate attempt to plead her case. “But outwardly, you’re just a doe-eyed, pale-skinned waif with a pixie cut, and that’s what they’ll see when they look at you. They’ll see you as an easy target, and they’ll take advantage of your ignorance.”

“Who isthey? Who do you speak of?”

“Criminals. Thieves. Predators. Bad men. It’s not safe out there for women, especially women who spent their entire life sheltered on an Amish farm.”

“Mortals are the least of my concerns.”

“I can help you escape whoever you’re running from.” The plebe’s gaze skittered to the blood-stained collar of Adriel’s dress. “I saw what he did to your house—the fire. They didn’t kill him. I saw him get away, and I imagine he’ll catch up with you soon. I know you’re scared. What does he want with you?”

Ice formed in Adriel’s veins as a chill raced down her spine. The urge to flee caused her knees to tingle. She looked east, fanning out her senses as she tried to detect footsteps. There was nothing.

“I can help you,” the witch urged. “It’s a bigworld out there—nothing like what you’re used to. I can drive a car, and I know how to talk to people and how to dress.” She glanced at Adriel’s long sleeves, grimacing at the primitive apron and Amish attire. “I can help you escape whoever you’re running from—whoeverheis.”

Her eyes widened. No one could help her. This witch could never understand the heinous atrocities Cerberus was capable of. The girl lived in captivity for years, and now she was desperately trying to cling to any escape.

“You’re hardly a woman of the world?—”

“What does my age matter after the things I suffered? I haven’t been a child in a long time.” She pointed a sharp finger toward the distant sound of civilization. “Everything I know is out there. I may look young, but I’m an adult who can help you.”

“Go home where it’s safe,” Adriel spat.

The witch snatched her arm. “I have no home! Your people saw to that when they murdered my aunts.”

“Exactly why I would be a fool to trust you!” She jerked her arm free. “Witches and immortals are natural enemies. Touch me again, and I’ll show you why.”

“I have magick!”

Adriel ignored her and headed north, but the girl followed, struggling to keep up.

“Do you hear me?” She yelled. “I have powers!”

Adriel’s blurry stare narrowed as she trudgedthrough the trees. “If you had powers, you would have escaped long before tonight.”

“You saw how they kept me. Hands tied and mouth muzzled. Witches need to chant. When we lose our voices, our spells are hobbled.”

Cerberus was still out there. Adriel could not mend broken birds if she wanted to save herself. “I do not have time for orphaned witches.”

“Please. I have nowhere to go.”

Adriel pivoted, prepared to unleash on her, but hesitated when the moonlight caught the witch’s tattered smock. The dirty rag reeked of sweat, fear, and something unmistakably masculine.

Her gaze traveled from her mud-spattered calves to her long, unkempt hair. She’d suffered. Adriel could see it now, and empathy pulled at her heart.

“I’m sorry,” she said, forcing the words out. “Perhaps you cannot return to where you once lived, but you cannot come with me.”

The witch straightened her spine and lifted her chin. “I’m tougher than I look?—”

“Enough! You’re free now. Have the sense to save yourself.”