Page 52 of Avidian (The Demon and the Savior #1)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I lunge forward to slam the door shut, my hands shaking and my breath ragged. As the latch is about to catch, the force of a boot slams it open, and before I can react, he’s on me.

Orin’s arms clamp around me from behind like steel bands, his breath hot against my ear. “Bad move, menace.”

Panicking, I fumble for the knife Malachi gave me, my fingers clumsy as they close around the handle.

With a wild swing, I drive it into Orin’s shoulder, the blade sinking into muscle with a sickening sound.

He roars, reacting enough for me to break free.

I bolt through the open door and plunge into the snow.

Each step is a struggle, the heavy snow swallowing my boots and slowing me down. I can’t stop. It’s too late now. I stabbed him. There’s no turning back. Every instinct screams at me to keep moving, to put as much distance between us as possible.

My mind spirals with the consequences of what I’ve done. There’s no way Orin will let this go. If he catches me now… I cannot let my mind go there.

The snow muffles my frantic footfalls, but I can still hear him behind me, his voice cutting through the cold. “You think you can run from me, demon? I’ll tear you apart!”

I veer left, away from where I think Malachi might be, knowing I can’t lead Orin to him. The cabin disappears behind me, swallowed by the dense forest. Branches snag my clothes, and the cold bites into my exposed skin, but I push forward, my focus narrowing to a single objective: run and hide.

The snow deepens, the drifts pulling at my legs like hands trying to drag me down. My lungs burn, my heart pounds, and still I run, weaving between trees, my body aching with every movement. My mind latches onto one thought, repeating like a mantra: He can’t catch me. He can’t take me.

I spot a fallen tree ahead, its massive trunk forming a hollow beneath it. Without thinking, I dive toward it, scrambling into the narrow space. Snow and dirt press against my body, but I don’t care. I curl in on myself, barely breathing, my knife clutched tightly in my hand.

The forest falls silent except for the pounding of my heart. I strain to hear any sound over the blood rushing in my ears. Footsteps crunch closer, and I hold my breath.

“Come on, Katja. You can’t hide forever. I’ll find you, and when I do...” Orin’s voice drifts through the trees, taunting, reveling.

I cover my mouth to stifle a sob, the icy air stinging my eyes. Every fiber of my being wants to bolt, to keep running, but I force myself to stay still. Be invisible. Be nothing.

The footsteps stop. Too close.

But I wasn’t thinking there could be another. My focus was too fixed on Orin, on his voice slicing through the quiet, on the sheer desperation to stay hidden. I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings.

I peer out cautiously from beneath the fallen tree, my eyes scanning the distance. I catch a glimpse of Orin moving between the trees, his figure a shadow against the pale snow.

Relief is short-lived. Arms wrap around me from behind, steel-strong and unyielding.

Frantic, I whirl around, the knife in my hand raised and ready to strike. My aim is true, the blade angled toward the chest of whoever grabbed me, but I falter the moment I see his face.

Banks.

His expression is torn, conflicted. I hesitate for a heartbeat, the blade trembling in my grip, and that’s all the time Orin needs.

Before I can react, Orin is there, his shadow looming over me like a storm. The force of his blow lands against the side of my head, the crack ringing in my ears as pain blossoms, hot and immediate. My knees buckle, the knife slipping from my fingers into the snow.

The world tilts, my vision blurring at the edges. Somewhere through the haze, I think I see Banks’s mouth move, his lips shaping words I can’t quite hear. “I’m sorry.” Maybe. Or maybe it’s wishful thinking. I can’t be sure of anything now as the darkness pulls me under.

“Nice of you to join us,” Orin says mockingly as I stir, the throbbing in my head pulling me from the fog. I force my eyes open and take in my surroundings. I’m on the couch in Marco’s plane. The realization hits like a punch to the gut.

I sit up quickly, pressing my hand to the side of my head, which stings.

“Sorry about that,” Orin continues, lounging in the seat across from me with a smug smile. “But you didn’t give me much of a choice now, did you?” He winks.

My fingers itch to wrap around his neck, to do anything that would wipe that grin off his face. But I know better. I’m not strong enough. Not here, not now.

“Where are we going?” I ask, my voice steady despite the storm inside me.

Orin’s smile widens, sharp and full of malice.

“You don’t get to ask questions.” He shakes his head like I’m a misbehaving child, and the urge to lunge at him becomes almost unbearable.

Maybe I can rake my nails across his smug face or knee him where it counts.

It wouldn’t fix anything, but damn it would feel good.

“You and my brother had quite a night. Things got really hot in that cabin. Who knew what a woman you’ve become?”

He leers at my clothes, and bile rises in my throat. He saw us. He heard us. My skin crawls, humiliation and rage warring inside me. I clench my fists to keep from showing any sign of weakness.

“You were looking good under all this,” he says, gesturing with a lazy smirk that makes me want to vomit.

For a split second, I imagine the sound of his nose breaking beneath my fist. It’s almost enough to make me lose control. Almost. Instead, I grit my teeth and glare at him, letting my hatred do the talking for now.

“I’ve got to give it to my brother. He really has a way with women.” Orin chuckles, his tone light, but every word feels like a dagger. I force myself to take a steadying breath.

Malachi.

God, I didn’t even think to scream for him when I was running—not that he would’ve heard me. I hope he’s okay. What if he was captured too?

No, he’d be here if that were the case.

But he went back to the cabin to get me... He must have been horrified to see the back door open, find me missing, and piece together the chaos I left behind.

“Did you read the journal? Did you at least solve the case while digging your demon claws into my little brother?”

I sneer at him, clenching my fists to keep from lashing out. Like I’m some kind of monster who tainted Malachi. Please.

“I haven’t yet,” I answer flatly, knowing better than to provoke him further.

He stares me down. “Do you have it with you?” he asks, his voice low, a barely-contained threat.

I open my jacket, slowly unzipping the inner pocket and pulling out Carmen’s journal. My fingers brush against the Avidian vial tucked inside, and I quickly zip the pocket back up, keeping it hidden. They can’t know about that. Not Orin, not Marco—no one.

“It’s here,” I say, holding up the journal.

“Good.” His lips curl into a cruel grin. “You can read it now. Father will want answers when we get there, and I told him I’d make sure you have them ready.”

The knot in my stomach tightens further. Marco. Of course. My mouth feels dry as I swallow.

“Can I read on the bed?” I ask. “I can’t focus with you staring at me like that.” My excuse feels weak, but it’s all I can manage under his oppressive gaze. Really, I need to get away from him—need space to think, to act, to destroy the evidence of the Avidian before we land.

Orin narrows his eyes, studying me for a long, tense moment. With a wave of his hand, he says, “Go.”

I don’t wait for him to change his mind. I’m on my feet and heading toward the back of the plane before he can say another word. My heart pounds in my chest as I step into the small bedroom, close the door behind me, and finally exhale.

Get it together, Kat. Focus.

I decide to hold off on the Avidian for now. If I’m going to use it, I need all the pieces first. Whether we’re heading to Viktor’s or back to Marco’s, I have time to figure this out. No need to rush.

I take a few steadying breaths, forcing my nerves to settle.

Everything is going to be okay.

Sliding onto the bed, I pull the journal open and start flipping through the pages, skimming for anything useful.

Carmen’s handwriting is small and neat, looping across the paper in a way that feels oddly personal.

Mostly they are mundane entries about her life—a few mentions of some new guy she’s seeing, scattered complaints about her job, and a running list of grievances about how awful everyone is.

The more I read, the more I feel a pang of sympathy for her.

It sounds like her life at Viktor’s estate was hell.

Not that I’d expect anything else—it’s Viktor, after all.

But seeing it like this, in her own words, makes it all hit differently.

She was trapped in a life she hated, surrounded by people who treated her like shit.

I wonder if she ever felt as hopeless as I have.

I flip to the final entry, and the first couple of lines stop me cold.

Shit. I should have started here.

This isn’t like the other entries.

Brian has some kind of vendetta against Damien. I finally agreed to help him after he explained everything to me. He’s been so mysterious, so closed off since I met him, I was starting to think “Brian” might not even be his real name.

I think the mystery is partly what drew me to him—that and his charming smile, his built body, oh, and his huge cock that he knows how to use in ways I couldn’t have dreamed of.

Okay, I guess Brian has a lot of good things going for him, but now he’s finally opened up to me. He let me in, told me his secret.

I feel so much better knowing he cares enough about me to trust me with all of this. And I have to help him. Solace is going to change the world, and if I can be even a small part of that, I’ll do whatever it takes.

Starting with seducing Damien.

Tonight