Page 8 of Fractured Fates

“Thirsty?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Hungry?”

I hesitate. “Yes.”

We stare at each other. His eyes are black like the midnight sky and I half expect to find stars shining in them.

“You can’t stay here,” he says.

I frown. I know that. I just don’t know what I’m going to do about it.

I also don’t know why the hell I just saved the man in black, why I’m still standing here. I should be running.

He tilts his head, and I can tell he’s choosing his next words carefully. Like that cautious caress of my thighs in the clearing, he thinks one wrong move and I’ll bolt. He’s right.

“I don’t know what she told you, that woman you were living with–”

“My aunt.”

“I don’t know what she told you, why she’s kept you hidden in this shithole, but it’s no way to live.”

“I’m perfectly happy.”

“But you’re not safe. You see that.” He points to one of the dead men slumped on the ground. My stomach turns and I think I might vomit again. “See that tattoo on his neck?” It’s a huge wolf growling up at us, sprawled across his entire throat. “They’re the Wolves of Night. You know who they are?” I bite my lip and shake my head. “One of the most notorious gangs in the underworld. They’re after you. They’re all after you. And if they lay their hands on you …”

“So, I suppose you’re going to tell me going with you is my only option.”

“It isn’t. You could stay on the run, live the rest of your life hiding.”

I snort. “With you chasing me, as well as them.”

“If I wanted to catch you, I’d have done it yesterday.” He growls with a smirk and that cocky self-assurance. The bodies of the men he’s killed lie at his feet. Five of them. He has every right to be cocky.

Did he really let me go? Is he offering to let me go again?

Is that what I want?

What I want is the wound on my arm to stop throbbing and my belly to be full so I can actually think straight.

“You really are a smug bastard,” I mutter, examining his smirk.

“And I can tell you are a bratty nuisance.”

I can’t help but laugh. The noise, the smile on my lips, seems to startle him for a moment. He looks pretty cute with bewilderment crossing his face and that hook in my belly tugs at me once more, before the look of disdain returns.

“You can’t stay here.”

“I know,” I say, burying my face in my hands. I don’t know what to do.

I was always told to hide in the forest if anyone came looking for me, but my aunt never said what to do if the plan failed and they found me.

Now my existence is known, they’re not going to stop searching for me. They’re not going to give up.

The man in black is right, I have to leave. But where can I go? Do I want to live like those other unregistered magicals who pass through here occasionally, always on the move, never staying in one place more than a couple of nights, constantly peering over their shoulders?

“Your arm.”