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Anything but this.

You have passed those buildings three times.

Anything but him.

Alora froze and inhaled a steadying breath, shaking her head at the sky. She pictured Garrik leaning against a building, a torch post, perched on a roof, ready to dawn down and pull her back tocamp. To inflict whatever brand of punishment that was waiting for her at her return.

There was nothing that could shelter her from the inevitable storm coming.

Alora willed all of her strength into her words, hoping—praying—he wouldn’t come for her. “I don’t need your help.” What she really meant was,I don’t want to look into your eyes and explain why I said those awful things.

Alora stared at a darkened, broken door of an abandoned building. The darkness, the shadows, had been unusually motionless but still watchful as she walked.

Suit yourself. Enjoy walking in circles. I am sure you will pass those buildings again in … twenty minutes.

And she did. The same starsdamned, black-bricked, three-story building with the broken door and darkness eerily motionless in the broken windows. She passed it for the fourth time—just as he said—and exhaled a frustrated sigh, running her hands down her aching, throbbing face.

Exhausted and defeated, she considered that staying in one of the abandoned buildings would be far better than admitting that, maybe this time, she couldn’t do it on her own.

Alora took a step toward a broken door.

This would be better.

Her boot nudged against the door. It fell open with a cloud of dust at her feet.

This would be far better.

He wouldn’t be in there. She wouldn’t have to face his eyes. Face the words she’d spit at him. Face the betrayal in his voice as he bit back. Wouldn’t have to admit a truth that she’d known and felt for some time.

Alora surveyed the inside. The darkness felt …wrong. As if even its comfort wasn’t offered as she stood there. As if it knewand decided she was no longer worthy of its relief. She was wrong to have said those things to him, and they knew.

They all knew.

The darkness could swallow her whole tonight and she wouldn’t care.

Alora took a step inside. Something stirred within. Something crashed.

She shrieked, stumbling out as her limbs emptied of blood, leaving her nerves shaken. The message was clear. She wasn’t staying there tonight. And as her legs carried her around the street once more, not one building offered up a haven to hide and fall apart.

With no one around to find her way back to camp, Alora deepened a breath as sharp as glass, accepting her fate, and called out, “Fine.” Looking to the sky through her eyelashes, she pivoted them around the street.

Silence.

“I said,FINE.”

Her mind was an endless abyss of her own echoing.

Of course, he wouldn’t come now. Only prying when she desired solitude. With a deep-throated growl of frustration, she yelled loud enough for her voice to bounce off the walls, “Bastard!”

“Wherever there are shadows, I will always be,” she mocked under her breath.

“You call for help yet insult me in the same breath.” Swirls of Smokeshadows danced around a torch post directly to her left and blew away on a phantom wind. Garrik leaned, straight-backed and rigid, arms and ankles crossed, broad shoulder digging into the post. His hollow eyes were low, focused on the deep red lines marking his forearm. Another just as deep laid half-hidden under a slash in the upper arm of his tunic. And if hewere in pain, if the blistering from her embered palms sunk deep into his skin, he didn’t show it.

She almost called on him about it, but he arched a brow and spoke as if he couldn’t be bothered to care at all. “Enjoy your stroll?” Face taut, undoubtedly restraining countless other words.

Alora crossed her arms, her leathers groaning in the movement, fighting off every ounce of fear and trembling bones, not bothering to mention his wounds. “Up until now.”

He still hadn’t looked at her. “The feeling is mutual. Next time, do not go wandering off and I will not have to come get you.”