Page 47 of Avidian (The Demon and the Savior #1)

“They’re surrounding us!” I shout, reaching for the red-capped vial in my pocket and deciding now is as good a time as any to try it.

My fingers tremble as I pop the top. A sparkling mist swirls out, and I inhale the vapor. The effect is immediate—a rush of heat, strength flooding my limbs, sharpening my senses. I’ve never felt anything quite like it, but I suddenly feel pure power coursing through me.

Malachi glances at me, his eyes narrowing, but there’s no time for questions. More figures close in, and the fight begins.

“I take it you wouldn’t listen if I told you to run?” Malachi asks, handing me a large knife, his eyes sharp and scanning the darkness around us as bodies move through the trees.

“Not a chance,” I reply, gripping the handle tightly, trying to ignore the chill racing down my spine.

He presses one of the buttons on his mask, and a row of LED lights flickers briefly, casting a soft glow across his face. For a moment, his eyes widen, the Avidian taking full effect. It distracts me for a split second—long enough for something to go horribly wrong.

The faint crunch of snow behind me snaps me out of my daze, and I spin around.

“Touch her, and I promise your death won’t be a slow one,” Malachi growls, his voice cutting through the night like ice, a coldness in his tone that chills me to my core. And for some reason a part of me relishes it.

“I’m going to do more than touch her,” the man sneers, stepping from the shadows, his hulking form blocking the moonlight.

Before I can react, Malachi moves in a blur, his body a flash of steel and fury.

He shoves me back, my feet slipping in the snow as he crashes into the man.

I barely have time to blink before the gleam of his knife flashes in the moonlight, and the sickening sound of steel slicing into flesh echoes through the still night.

The man grunts as the blade twists in his gut, the wet sound of impact following quickly. The stench of blood fills the air, and I scrunch my nose, trying to suppress the nausea crawling up my throat.

Malachi pulls the knife free with a swift, practiced motion, and kicks the man’s body in the chest, sending him sprawling face-first into the snow. No need to finish the job—Malachi promised him a slow death.

I watch as the crimson liquid blooms into the white snow, staining it black in the cold light.

“Fuck,” I breathe, stumbling back a step, my heart pounding in my ears.

Malachi doesn’t look at me, his focus locked on the figure now slumped against the snow. His chest rises and falls quickly, his muscles taut, but there’s no hesitation, no panic.

“Stay sharp,” he says, barely sparing me a glance as he wipes the blood from his knife. “There’s more of them.”

I nod, clutching the blade he gave me, scanning the tree line for movement.

Something to the left catches my eye. Another figure steps out from behind a tree, their stance tense, weapon raised. I don’t think, just throw. My knife slices through the air, grazing the side of their arm.

“Nice aim,” Malachi says, impressed. But there’s no time to celebrate.

The man snarls, throwing himself at me, but Malachi is there again, a blur of speed and strength. With one swift motion, he slams the hilt of his blade into the man’s temple, dropping him instantly.

I glance around wildly, the forest suddenly alive with shadows. More figures are emerging, their footsteps crunching against the snow, and I know this isn’t over.

“Mal, how many?—”

“Doesn’t matter,” he interrupts, gripping my arm and tugging me closer. “Stick by me. Don’t hesitate, and don’t hold back.”

I nod as he pulls another blade and presses it into my hand.

These men clearly aren’t trained like Malachi.

Watching him in action now, I understand why he’s the Solace team leader.

Part of me is terrified, but the other part is exhilarated.

I don’t know how much of this is his natural ability and how much is the Avidian, but he takes out several men without breaking a sweat, not a single scratch on him.

All I manage to do is stab two guys in the arm, and even that feels like sheer luck from the Avidian.

Only one man remains, larger than the others, his broad shoulders cutting a menacing silhouette against the moonlight. He and Malachi circle each other like predators, the man wielding a knife in one hand and some kind of rod in the other.

Everything happens in a blur. A sharp hiss escapes Malachi’s lips, followed by the sickening sound of flesh meeting steel. Red splatters the snow, staining it like spilled ink. Before I can think, my body takes over.

I sprint forward and leap onto the man’s back, digging my nails into his face with one hand and slamming my blade into the side of his neck with the other. He thrashes violently, trying to throw me off, but he roars in agony, staggering, when I push the hilt of my blade in deeper.

That’s when Malachi strikes, stabbing him twice in the chest, two quick blows. The man starts to stagger. A gurgled sound leaves his mouth as he coughs up blood. I rip my knife free from his neck and blood flows down the front of his chest as he collapses face-first into the snow.

Malachi yanks me off him, gripping my arms and hauls me to my feet.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he growls, his eyes blazing.

For some reason, I smile, my adrenaline still pumping. Maybe the Avidian doesn’t only make you stronger—it makes you fearless too. Reckless. I’ll have to ask Bash about that later.

We both scan the surrounding forest, but everything is silent now, eerily still. Malachi moves quickly, kneeling beside the bodies, checking their pockets and patting them down. His movements are efficient, methodical, and his focus is razor-sharp.

“These don’t look like men my father would typically employ. What the fuck were they doing out here?”

“Maybe they were hunting?” I offer weakly.

“Then why attack us?” he counters, frustrated.

I press my lips together, thinking about it for a minute. “People are crazy, and men are cruel. I have no idea why they attacked us, but nothing would surprise me at this point.”

He looks up at me, his eyes softening in a way that makes my chest tighten. There’s something raw in his stare, a kind of empathy I don’t know what to do with. Before I can dwell on it, my gaze drops to the gash across his arm.

“You’re bleeding,” I say, grabbing his arm to get a closer look.

“It’s fine,” he says, brushing me off.

“It’s not fine. Take the healing vial,” I insist.

“This isn’t that bad,” he replies, shaking his head. “I’d rather save it in case we need it later.”

I scowl but don’t argue. He tears a strip from his shirt and hands it to me. I wrap it around his arm as tightly as I can, tying the makeshift bandage with shaky fingers.

“Happy now?” he asks.

“Not even close,” I mutter, stepping back and scanning the darkness again. The cabin looms in the distance among the trees.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s see what we can find before someone else shows up.” He twists the knob on the side of his mask.

“Is there a limit on how much of that you should do at one time?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Not that I know of.” He shrugs, and I’m sure this is something Bash would have tested. I hope he’s not lying to me so I don’t worry.

The cabin might have seemed close through the trees, but it’s deceiving.

We’re forced to descend into a gully and then climb back up—twice—before it feels like we’re making any real progress.

My lungs are burning by the time we’re halfway there, and Malachi keeps an arm wrapped around me, steadying me when my footing slips or I sink too deep in the snow.

“Did you feel anything from the Avidian?” I ask between gasps, trying to keep my focus on something other than the ache in my legs.

He glances at me. “Yeah. It was like everything I normally do was...amplified. My brain felt faster, my body stronger—more lethal.”

I nod, sucking in air. “I felt it too. It’s like I wasn’t afraid to jump into the fight.”

“You weren’t,” he says, chuckling softly. “You were downright feral. Remind me to stay on your good side.”

I laugh weakly, the sound strained but genuine. “Noted.”

He adjusts his grip on me as we crest another incline, his hand firm but careful on my arm. The trees around us grow denser, their branches stretching over us like skeletal fingers, blocking out what little moonlight we have. The shadows deepen, and the air feels colder.

“We’re almost there. Let’s stop here for a minute. I want to take a look around before we get any closer,” Malachi murmurs. He sets his pack down and pulls out a pair of night vision goggles. He slips them on and scans the area.

I crouch beside him, watching as his gaze sweeps across the cabin and surrounding woods. His focus is intense, his body completely still as he assesses every detail. He lowers the goggles and looks at me.

“No movement. The cabin’s dark, and I don’t see anyone nearby. It’s safe to approach—for now.”

“Let’s get this over with,” I whisper, gripping the knife hidden in my pocket as Malachi stows the goggles.

We press on, the silence of the forest unnerving. The closer we get, the heavier the air feels, like the woods themselves are watching us.

As we crest another small rise, a howl rips through the silence. It’s long, mournful, and impossibly loud, echoing through the trees like a warning. My heart lurches, and I whip my head toward the sound, my breath hitching.

Malachi freezes, his hand shooting out to steady me. “Stay close,” he says.

Another howl joins the first, then another, and soon the forest is alive with the haunting sound. My stomach tightens as dark shapes moves through the forest ahead. My blood runs cold as the figures emerge into view, their eyes glowing faintly in the night.

“Wolves,” I whisper, but as they come closer, I realize these aren’t normal wolves.