Page 88 of Hunted By Fae

And a small band of fae who seem to be guarding a cringing group of humans.

That’s new.

At least, it’s something I haven’t noticed before from a distance.

It’s that small group of humans that I shift the aim of my binoculars to. Like I said, I haven’t been this close to the dark fae units before. So those humans—who sit on the snowy road, shuddering against the cold, dark warriors circled around them like guards—hook my attention.

None of the faces are familiar to me. But each one is either panicked or weathered.

I shift my focus to the guards.

The glimmer of the blaze flickers over their faces—and like the captive humans, none of them are familiar to me.

I know very few dark fae.

The ones I do know, I need to avoid. My life depends on that.

But none of that matters right now.

I can’t waste any more time on searching those faces, on studying this unit, and their human captives.

With how fast the blood flame is eating through the streets of this city, I have just moments to get the fuck out of here. Not just out of the building, but far from their territory.

My scent might be a problem, enough of a problem to give me pause, because my scent is up here on the roof now, and definitely in the apartment down the high-rise.

We camped out on the first floor.

Gary is still in there, rugged up in the bed.

If he wakes up, and realises not only that I am gone, but that the dark fae are upon us, he would get out of here in a hurry and leave me behind.

That’s if he’s smart.

I am.

I’m not going back for him.

My mind races to form a plan of escape.

I peer down at the street once more. The leather of my gloves creaks softly, but it’s hardly a whisper.

I watch the unit below, which lanes they take, how far ahead the general stays on his steed and watches over his warriors, a black diadem pulled tight onto his head. I study their movement for a long moment before I decide they aren’t headed more than a block north.

That’s where the border of their section is, their mapped-out area of destruction in this city ends one block north.

So that’s the direction I’ll take—and if I cut through the highway, I can make a straight shot through the golf course, then turn back for the hospital.

That’s an hour journey on foot—but only in perfect conditions. An hour, but without the blackout, without the snow.

I can do it.

I can dounnoticed.

I don’t take my eyes off the warriors as I reach down for the map. My fingers pinch the thick edge, already folded, and held down by the bone of my knee. I tighten my grip and lift it, careful, from the snow.

My breaths are pinned to my chest.

One wrong move, and it crinkles, maybe loud enough that a warrior hears it.