Page 1 of Ravaged Saints (BloodHawks Duet #1)

Aspen

Sunlight filters through the treetops, casting shifting shadows across the forest ground, and the air carries the acrid scent of burned wood; it’s recent, as if someone is nearby.

I pick my stuff up. I’ve slept under a tree and some bushes, but with this scent, I know it’s too dangerous to stay put, but as I start to move, a scream echoes through the silent woods.

My heart slams against my ribs, my breath catching; the sound is too close, but I haven’t been near a town in over a month, so there is no way someone would have followed me.

I move quickly, careful not to rustle the leaves beneath me; my hands work on instinct, my bag is already packed, my knife slips into its sheath, and my fingers curl around the cold grip of my gun. I don’t have many bullets, but I have enough to kill whoever might be out there and get enough time to run.

Another scream and a guttural, agonized moan follow, making me squeeze my eyes shut. Don’t listen; it’s not your problem, I murmur to myself, but the pain in that sound twists my stomach because I know what it’s like to scream like that, to be that helpless.

A man’s growl echoes, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand; damn hunters!

Ice rushes through my veins, my breath stutters, and for a split second, I’m not here anymore; I’m back in that room. The way his body pinned me, the way he grunted in my ear, his scent, everything came rushing down on me.

I fought. I begged. Nothing stopped him.

Swallowing hard, I force the memory down as another scream tears through the air.

It sounds too much like mine did that night.

Raw. Desperate. Terrified.

I should run; I should disappear into the woods like I always do, but my feet refuse to move. I can’t leave her there! I won’t leave her there! Fuck this, I’ll cut their throats like I did with Cash; I’m tired of hiding, of feeling fear all the time!

My heart slams against my ribs, screaming at me to run, but I take a shaky breath, steadying myself, my rage surpassing my fear.

Moving carefully, I slip behind the trees, searching for a blind spot, and as I sneak around an old oak, I see her; she looks my age, though we all look older now. Years of sun, hunger, and survival wear you down.

Her long honey-blonde hair is streaked with blood, her torn clothes barely clinging to her bruised body. She’s tied to a tree, but I know I can cut that rope, but where are the hunters?

I wait, crouched and hidden, and I hear them—animalistic voices spitting curses, seeds hitting the dirt as they chew through whatever fruit they’re eating.

One kneels in front of her, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her head up; he licks her face, moaning.

My stomach twists, and I tighten the grip on my gun. Fuckers!

“Little bitch, tonight’s my turn,”

the older one says. His beard is long, his belly is round, and he’s filthy.

There’s no way I’m letting her spend another night with them.

I step back; I need to wait. It’s three against one, but they just got here and left her alone without a second thought. Typical. No one’s around for miles, and the fact that we even crossed paths is one hell of a sick joke.

So all I have to do is wait.

Hours pass, and the sun sinks lower, painting the forest gold. Finally, they leave, but not before one of them stops and presses a kiss on her lips, laughing when she spits at him. I gag along with her, bile rising in my throat.

The Hunters appeared soon after the plague vanished, groups of men whose only intention was to own women, making us their slaves!

The moment they disappear, I move.

I leave my bag farther away so I can move fast. Kneeling behind her tree, I reach around to cover her mouth with my hand. I need her to be quiet. “I’m here to help,”

I whisper.

Her eyes snap to mine, her pulse pounding beneath my hand. She shifts her gaze ahead, subtly signaling where they went.

“I know, stay still so I can cut the rope,” I murmur.

She nods, and I work the rope with my knife. It’s taking its damn time; the rope is thicker than I anticipated, and my hands are slick with sweat. I can feel her trembling, but I finally cut it, and she whimpers, her wrists bruised from her pulling on them. When I help her up, she winces, clutching her ribs.

“Can you run?” I ask.

She nods, determined despite her injuries. Good, because we don’t have time to waste.

We move fast, pausing only to grab my bag.

The forest is quiet behind us, for now.

“Oh my God, thank you,”

she whimpers, wiping the blood from her face. I pull one of my spare shirts from the bag and hand it to her.

“Put this on. We need to move; they’ll come for us both.”

She grabs it, her hands shaking, and she winces as she pulls the shirt off; her body is full of bruises, and I swallow the knot in my throat. How much did she have to endure?

“I’m Brynlee,”

she whispers, bringing me back from my thoughts.

Her voice shakes, her fingers trembling where they clutch my sleeve. I don’t have time to reassure her. I pull her with me, pushing her into a run, though she struggles to keep up, but we need to put as much distance from the Hunters as we can, so we head toward the river

“I’m Aspen,” I say.

I try to offer her a reassuring smile, but it’s fleeting—she’s still scanning the darkness, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. She’s looking for my group, expecting more people.

There’s no time to explain. The Hunters are close.

The sound of rushing water pulls my focus. The river.

I skid to a stop. “Take off your shoes and roll up your pants,”

I say, already kicking off my own. “The river will hide our tracks.”

She obeys, and I see the panic in her eyes, but I can keep us safe… I think…

We walk into the cold water, the current tugging at my legs as we follow it downstream. The sun starts to set, shadows stretching between the trees, turning the forest into a maze of black and grey, and I think that maybe we lost, but then we hear it, a gunshot cracking through the air, sharp and sudden.

Brynlee flinches, a tremor in her words. “Oh no! They’re going to catch us.”

Her eyes dart to the trees, wild with terror. I swallow hard, forcing myself to keep moving.

“Not if we keep running,”

I say, keeping my tone steady. I need to stay in control—panicking now won’t help us.

“They’re still far,”

I tell her, tugging her forward. “The shot was probably just to scare us.”

But we don’t slow down. If it comes to it, I’d rather put a bullet in my own head than let guys like that take me.

The freezing water claws up to our knees as we push through. My lungs burn, my mind racing for an escape.

Then I see it—a break in the rocks up ahead. A narrow tunnel. It might lead deeper into the woods, but it’s better than staying out here, exposed.

The shouts behind us grow louder. We’re too slow. No time to second-guess. I grab Brynlee’s arm and pull her toward the opening.

“Are you sure about this, Aspen?”

she asks, and I can see the doubt in her blue eyes.

“Of course,”

I lie. “Just follow me; they will think we went up the river.”

I smile, grabbing her hand gently and making her follow after me.

I don’t use any lights to prevent the men after us from seeing where we went, so I just feel the rock, every crinkle, every drop of water, the breeze coming from the other side.

It’s pitch black inside, and it smells like still water and dead fish. The rocks are slick, and we slip more than once. Brynlee mutters a curse under her breath, but we don’t stop; the only sound inside this place is our ragged breaths and the water under our feet. It’s almost peaceful.

“We are almost there,”

I say, trying to sell her the idea that I know exactly where we are, but the truth is I have no idea where on earth we are right now, but at least I don’t hear the shouting anymore, so let’s stay positive!

Don’t know how long we walk inside this godforsaken tunnel, but finally, I see the flicker of moonlight in front of us, and Brynlee gasps, “Thank God!”

she whispers, clenching my hand.

“See, I told you this would work,”

There is more irony in my voice than intended, but it kept her calm and quiet and gave me time to think and follow my instinct; my father always told me I had a good one, so I just use it, and it has kept me alive all this time, lonely but alive.

“Can we stop for a moment? I’m so tired.”

Brynlee looks out of breath.

“Of course.”

I help her onto a thick branch, using her torn shirt to dry us off before we slide our shoes back on. I exhale slowly, finally letting myself feel how exhausted I am

Brynlee doesn’t say anything. She just stares ahead, her fingers digging into the bark. Her whole body is rigid, like she’s still bracing for something.

Hesitating, I watch her. Then, carefully I ask, “How long were you with them?”

She flinches.

Shit. I shouldn’t have….

She gives me a small, tired smile. “A week, maybe. I lost track of time.”

She sniffs, and my chest tightens. A week.

“I was hunting with my group when they showed up out of nowhere,”

she continues, her gaze distant. “They killed my two friends and took me.”

Her words tremble as her eyes glaze over, the weight of the memory pressing down on her.

Grabbing her hand, I squeeze it gently, my gaze locking onto hers, and she swallows hard. “I thought I would die at their hands.”

“I’m so sorry,”

I murmur. I know this pain, not fully, not the way she’s lived it; I escaped after the first time, but she endured it for days.

I dig through my bag, pulling out some fruit and a piece of sun-dried meat, and she eats like it’s a gourmet feast, and I can’t help but laugh.

She snorts mid-bite. “I’m eating like a pig.”

That sets us both off, laughter bubbling up as we cover our mouths, trying to keep quiet.

Damn. I can’t remember the last time I talked to someone—really talked. Most of the time, it’s just me, the trees, and maybe the occasional bunny. But another human? Another woman?

I didn’t realize how much I missed it.

Brynlee shifts slightly, brushing damp hair from her face. “You’ve been out here a while, huh?”

Her tone is soft, not prying—just curious.

Nodding. “Yeah… four years now, I think.”

I shrug, like it doesn’t matter. Like it doesn’t weigh on me every damn day.

“Wait, you’ve been alone for years? How the hell did you survive?”

She doesn’t even try to hide her shock.

“I was in a settlement with my father and older brother; everything was fine while they were alive. No one would give me the time of day until they died.”

I resume it because there is no need for a trauma dump right now.

“Oh,”

her eyes soften, “How old were you?”

“When did the plague start?”

I have to think hard. “Eighteen, I think. I stayed there for three or four years and then ran away.”

“Did they?”

Her voice trails off.

For a second, I consider lying, but maybe she needs to hear it, to know she’s not alone. I sure as hell needed someone to talk to back then, someone to hold me together that night when Cash took my virginity, the way it hurt and all the feelings that came after. I never missed my mother more than I did that night.

“Aspen,”

Brynlee says my name softly. Her lips part slightly as if searching for the right words, but her blue eyes speak louder than anything she could say. They look at me like I might shatter at any moment, and I don’t like that look. I’m not the fragile, sweet girl; I’m the one men will fear!

Forcing a smile, I shake my head like it’s no big deal. “They didn’t,”

I say quietly, though the weight of those two words sits heavy in my chest. “Just the leader.”

I take a breath, steadying myself. “I left the next day.”

I see the questions in her eyes, but she doesn’t push. And for that, I’m grateful.

After the plague, everything changed; my mother and my youngest brother, Lucas, died just weeks after the first case. Hell on earth isn’t even a strong enough phrase for what that first year was. Death was everywhere; bodies piled up faster than anyone could bury them. My father and my older brother did everything they could to keep us safe, dragging us deep into the woods and teaching me to survive off the land. Hunting, fishing, and drinking from muddy ponds when we had to.

I still don’t know how we made it through those years. Governments fell. There were no armies, no police, and no rescue teams. There was no contact with anyone outside our little patch of trees. The last we heard, the Crimson Plague had killed millions, but even after the virus disappeared, it didn’t end. What came after was almost worse.

People started forming communities, little pockets of survivors trying to rebuild some kind of life, and some of them were good, the kind of people who just wanted to live in peace. But others… others were monsters.

The Hunters.

The men who stalk the weak, who hunt women like animals. Let’s build a new world, they say, like it’s something noble, like it’s not just a lie dressed up in pretty words. A polished excuse to take, to hurt, to control, and to rip apart everything good and leave nothing behind but ruin.

Brynlee doesn’t look away. Her eyes hold mine, quiet but heavy, like she’s piecing together all the things I’m not saying out loud.

“I’m sorry,”

she whispers.

Before I can stop her, she leans in, wrapping her arms around me, and I freeze, my body stiff, instincts screaming to pull away. I don’t even know how to react to this, but when I feel her trembling, when I hear the faint hitch in her breath, something cracks inside me.

I let her cry, her tears sinking into my shirt, soaking through layers I didn’t realize were still there, and then, to my surprise, my chest tightens, my eyes burning in a way I haven’t felt in years.

Don’t cry. I can’t. I swore I wouldn’t, not after him, not after that night when everything I had left was taken from me. I cried so hard back then, I thought I might break in half, and when I finally stopped, I promised myself I’d never let it happen again.

I will never let anyone see me like that again. Crying wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t bring back my family or the life I should have had.

But here, in Brynlee’s arms, I let the tears fall. For her. For me. For all of it.

The pain we’ve carried, the demons we’ve fought, they all come spilling out under the cold, under the eye of the moon, and for the first time in years, it feels… right.

As if, somehow, crying now will set something free.

Aspen

We’ve spent the night under a tree, hidden in the bushes like I always do when I sleep in the forest; it’s uncomfortable, but it keeps us out of sight if anyone walks by. I doubt anyone will pass through here; this side of the woods we’re in has been untouched by humans even before the plague. We should be safe, at least from Hunters. Animals, though? I’m not so sure, and I don’t need that stress!

“Brynlee,”

I call, motioning for her to follow. I want to stick to the trail along the river, but the trees are dense, tangled, and full of threats, the kind that makes my gut clench.

“Bryn.”

I snap my eyes to hers. “What?”

She shrugs, her eyes avoiding mine for a moment. "It’s easier. Bryn." Then she starts walking ahead, her honey-blond hair swaying with each step, tied back in a messy ponytail that reaches the middle of her back.

I watch her for a second. She looks better now—more rested, steadier on her feet. The tension seems to have eased from her shoulders. As for me? I probably look like I crawled out of a grave after partying with a pack of rabid gremlins, but I don’t mind. One of us had to stay on guard, and she needed the sleep more than I did.

A soft breeze brushes past us, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I notice the warmth in the air. It’s almost pleasant—if this weren’t a life-or-death situation, I might even call it a nice walk in nature. Well, except for the damn mosquitoes. These little pests could’ve died off with the plague for all I care. One buzzes too close to my ear, and I swat at it with a scowl.

I let out a slow breath, needing a distraction before I lose my mind over the swarm of tiny bloodsuckers. “So, you were living in a settlement?”

I ask, breaking the silence.

She sighs. “Yes. We made our home at the local clothes factory. It was sacked and burned after the plague, but most still stood.”

Her eyes lock on the ground, and she seems uncomfortable, so I don’t push it.

After the plague, attacks broke out all over the world, like losing lives to the virus wasn’t enough, but this was humans at their best, always fighting for control, even when there is nothing to control.

“They were nice. Not many women there, of course, but they kept us safe,”

she continues. “I met them at work. We ran to a safer place together and stayed that way until I was caught.”

“Oh,”

I manage to say; she probably misses them, and unlike me, Bryn hasn’t been alone. Now I get why she looks so lost; this is probably all new for her, being on the run. “It must be hard, so long now without them.”

“It is,”

she admits. “But at least now I have you.”

She caresses my arm with a genuine smile, and I can’t help but smile back.

For a moment, neither of us speaks, just walking in quiet understanding. Then, as if sensing the weight of unspoken thoughts between us, she tilts her head slightly.

“What did you do before it all happened?” she asks.

I haven’t talked about my past in so long. The thought of it feels foreign, like something from another life—one that doesn’t belong to me anymore. For a second, I’m back there, the sun beating down on my skin, the sound of my mom laughing in the kitchen, my dad’s voice rumbling through the house. It was safe. Simple. Gone.

My throat tightens, and I swallow hard, pushing the memories back where they belong. “I was in college,”

I say. “It was summer break, and I was back home, enjoying some free time with the family.”

A pang hits my heart at the thought of my family, and tears prickle beneath my lashes, but I shake them off.

“You must miss them a lot,”

Bryn says softly, her words barely more than a whisper.

“I do.”

I hesitate, memories flickering in my mind. The farm. The smell of fresh earth. My father’s rough hands guiding mine. “We lived on a farm. My family worked on it—hunting, farming… life was simple, but it was good.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I had two older brothers. They were the best—always looking out for me, teaching me how to fight, how to survive.”

I glance at Bryn. Do I say more? But the words slip out anyway.

“My dad always said I had to learn everything like my brothers so I wouldn’t have to rely on a man.”

I shake my head, huffing a soft laugh. “Never thought this was what he meant.”

I wave my hand around at the ruined world, trying to keep my tone light.

Bryn laughs along. “Survival skills on hard mode, right?”

I laugh and nod. “What about you?”

I ask as we reach a point in the river that’s impossible to cross, and I take a deep breath, heading towards the dense woods. Unfortunately, we can’t avoid it anymore; we also need food, and it’s easier to hunt there.

“Well…”

she stops, running her hands through her hair.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Bryn. It’s fine, really. I don’t want her to feel forced to talk about her past; who we were before doesn’t define who we are now. We’ve all changed, and unless she was a serial killer or something, it’s none of my business.

“I was a call girl,”

she blurts out.

I stop dead in my tracks. She stiffens, her fingers twitching at her sides, and her face flushes deep red. Her shoulders draw in, like she’s bracing for judgment, for disgust.

“Oh, thank God,”

I gasp, pressing a hand to my chest.

Her eyes widen, her lips parting in stunned silence.

“I’m sorry,”

I rush to add, shaking my head with a small laugh. “For a moment, I thought you were going to say you were a serial killer or something like that.”

Bryn bursts out laughing, doubling over as she leans against a nearby tree, her arm wrapping around her bruised ribs. She wheezes through her laughter, shaking her head.

“Aspen, Jesus Christ,”

she chokes out, still grinning.

I smirk, rolling my eyes, but her laughter slowly fades. Her fingers swipe at the corners of her eyes, the humor in them dimming.

“I had put together a team of girls,”

she says, softer now. “High-end. Fancy. It took me three years to build it up, to get to a point where the girls were making good money in a safe environment.”

She exhales, her breath unsteady. “Then the news broke.”

She looks away, her fingers tracing patterns against the bark of the tree, like she’s grounding herself.

“When things started shutting down, when panic spread, we ran. One of my clients was a retired army guy. I trusted him. He kept us safe.”

Her jaw tenses. “But not all of us made it. Some got sick. Others…”

She swallows hard, shaking her head. “Others, like me, didn’t.”

Silence stretches between us, thick with everything unsaid. She doesn’t look at me, her fingers curling and uncurling at her sides. The weight of loss lingers in the air between us, unshaken by time.

I exhale slowly, choosing my words carefully. “That must’ve been… hell,”

I say, my quieter now. I want to reach for her, to offer something more, but I don’t know if she’d welcome it.

She lets out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah. It was.”

Only then do I step closer. “I’d never judge you for that, okay?”

I say firmly, making sure she sees the sincerity in my eyes.

Her lips twitch, a small, almost hesitant smile tugging at them. She nods, but I can still see the shadows in her gaze.

We walk in silence until we reach a clearing, a wide patch of earth surrounded by thick trees. It’s secluded, safe enough, and big enough to give us some breathing room. The sun is already sinking, casting long shadows through the branches. We won’t get much farther before dark.

“This will do for the night,”

I say, shrugging my bag off my shoulders. “It’s sheltered, and if we’re lucky, we might even find something to eat.”

Bryn nods, glancing around. “I can keep watch if you want to scout ahead?”

I shake my head. “No, we’ll set up camp first. No point wandering hungry and exhausted.”

I crouch down, pulling out a rabbit trap I made. It’s nothing fancy, but it does the job. “I’m going to set this up. Can you gather some wood for a fire?”

Bryn nods, heading left while I go the opposite way, positioning the trap near a tree with a piece of food as bait.

Now we wait.

When I return, Bryn has put the twigs on the floor, and looking at them with a frown face, I can tell she’s not entirely sure what she’s doing; it’s kind of cute, but this girl wouldn’t last a day in the woods on her own.

I redo the fire, moving the logs around, and Bryn mutters, “Sorry,”

under her breath. I give her a small smile. “Don’t worry. It’s fine. Just need to shift this one here.”

I find two stones and strike them together, creating a spark. The flames flicker to life, and I blow softly, coaxing the fire into a brighter flame, and Bryn moves closer, warming her hands.

“So, how have you been living all these years like this?”

She asks quietly but curious, eyes gleaming with the firelight, and the warmth feels like a small slice of heaven in this harsh world.

I settle on the ground, the dirt and leaves scratching at my skin, less comfortable than I’d like, but it’s better than the cold.

“During the colder months, I move to towns nearby and find abandoned homes, usually farms, far out in the middle of nowhere, and when the weather warms, I head into the woods,”

I explain, noticing her listening carefully. She crosses her arms over her legs, her hair cascading over her face in the firelight, and a soft smile tugs at her lips as she listens.

“You see, it’s dangerous to stay in towns when the weather’s warm,”

I continue. “Hunters come out looking for people, but in the winter, they tend to stay indoors.”

She nods, her brow furrowing in concentration. “I hunt to eat, pick wildflowers and herbs, and sometimes go into towns to scavenge. There’s always something left behind, even after all this time. I also carry seeds to plant if I end up staying somewhere long enough.”

I shrug, feeling uncomfortable. “It’s not glamorous. I bathe in cold rivers and use leaves for soap. I carry a toothbrush, but I also use fruits to clean my teeth.”

“That’s impressive,”

Bryn says with a small huff. “I don’t think I’d last a day like that. I’d probably be dead by now.”

I can’t help but chuckle, even though I know how close I’ve come to dying more times than I care to count; let’s face it, it’s a miracle I’m still breathing.

“I thought the same when my brother Josh died,”

I say. “He was my anchor after everyone else… my family…”

I swallow the lump in my throat, fighting the wave of emotion threatening to overtake me. “He knew Cash’s intentions, and he left me a bag with everything I needed to get away, but I thought I wouldn’t make it. They hunted me like an animal…I couldn’t sleep and barely ate. I thought I was going to die.”

I pause; the memory is still fresh in my mind, and Bryn stays quiet, watching me carefully.

“Then I saw another group, so I hid in the bushes, and Cash’s group collided with them; it turned into a fight to the death. Cash’s men won, but they were exhausted; they had no more guns or food, so they gave up. That’s when I took my chance to run.”

I exhale, the weight of the memory making my chest tight. “I walked for months, surviving off whatever I could hunt, drinking rainwater, scavenging through abandoned towns and ghost cities. I found clothes, blankets, and whatever I could use to keep going.”

Bryn’s eyes soften, and I realize that I haven’t shared any of this with anyone. It feels… good, in a strange way.

I don’t tell her how I slit Cash’s throat; there are things better kept to myself, at least for now. The memory lingers, thick and heavy, but I shove it down. It’s done. No point dragging ghosts to dinner.

A sudden clap snaps me out of my thoughts. My body reacts before my mind catches up—I jolt upright, heart pounding.

Bryn yelps, stumbling back a step. “Jesus, Aspen!”

I blink, realizing I scared her. “Sorry!”

I huff out a breath, forcing a grin. My pulse is still racing, but now for a different reason. “It’s dinner time!”

I rush forward, skidding to a stop near the trap.

And there it is—a rabbit, a big one.

We sit on the dirt, bellies full. The fire crackles between us, casting flickering shadows across the clearing. The warmth of food settles deep in my bones, a small, rare comfort. This will help. A few more days like this, and we might actually make it somewhere—somewhere we can plant, build, survive.

I take the blanket from the bag. I usually sleep in bushes, but the warmth of the fire is so inviting that I decide to take a chance and stay here.

Bryn lies next to me so we can use the only blanket I have to keep us warm. “I’m glad I met you,”

she says, snuggling on my back.

“Me too.”

I can feel her breathing soothing as she falls asleep, but I can’t; I stare at the trees, moving with the wind, making a beautiful symphony. The air is still warm; summer is probably arriving, and the occasional howl makes a sound that echoes through the woods.

I don’t know if we should keep the path deeper into the woods; maybe we get lucky and find some old hunt cottage, or we get lost in this place forever and no one will ever find us, but that’s the point, right? Being hidden from the world.

Or we can head to the river, find a place to cross it back, and pray the men hunting Bryn aren’t there anymore, and we can try to get to a nearby town for some clothes and blankets.

I inhale sharply. I don’t have a problem keeping myself alive, but taking care of another life? Someone who knows nothing about living in the wilderness, someone who lived in a community where men did all the work? What if I get her hurt? Or worse?

I must’ve fallen asleep at some point because when I wake up, it’s morning and Bryn is sitting, washing her face with a bit of water. I get up and find some apples. They’re terrible, dry, and bitter, but at least it’s something.

“This is great,”

Bryn jokes, clearing my anxiety a bit.

“Listen, Bryn, we have two choices here.”

She stops eating, her attention fully on me. “We can continue this path through the forest and try to find a safe, hidden place we can set up home for a while, or we can cross the river back and try to find a town while avoiding the men that are after you.”

If I were alone, I would take the forest, but I’m not going to force that on her; it’s up to her. I can take her to a town and maybe find her group; she will be safe, and I will return to my…routine.

“What would you do if I weren’t here?”

She asks, her eyes soft but worried.

I take a deep breath. “To be honest, I would stay by the path through the woods at least for a few weeks, just to give it enough time for those men to quit looking for you.”

She nods and stands up. “Then that’s what we will do. I trust you, Aspen.”

Holy smokes, what am I doing?

We got lucky today; our hunting was successful. It’s been almost two weeks since I saved Bryn, and things have been going well. She does everything I tell her, but I can see this type of life is taking a toll on her; she is tired all the time, and we lost track of the river for a few days and barely had water to drink. That didn’t help at all…

Thankfully, we found it again, a small stream enough to drink and bathe; she looks happier now, but still, I decided to follow the stream up; it’s safer, and at least we know we will have water to drink, and maybe we can try some fishing.

We’ve been walking for half a day, and my legs hurt like hell.

There are only trees and more trees around us, the quiet broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting long, dappled shadows across the ground. The dirt beneath our boots makes every step feel heavier, but we keep moving, one foot in front of the other. The weight of survival presses down on me with each step. At least we’re alive. At least we’re still pushing forward. We have to keep moving. Maybe we’ll find somewhere safer, somewhere we can rest.

Bryn slows, scanning the ground. Her eyes lock on something just ahead, her body going still, like she senses it before I do. She takes a few careful steps forward. My pulse spikes, something in the air shifts, but I don’t have time to react.

Then I hear it—the snap.

My heart races, and instinct kicks in. I’m already moving before I know it—shoving Bryn out of the way. The world tilts, spinning in slow motion. I barely catch the look of shock in her eyes before I’m yanked upward.

The rope coils tight around my left ankle, pulling me off the ground with brutal force. My breath catches, the blood rushing to my head as I flip upside down. I’m suspended in midair, hanging by the ankle, disoriented, my chest tight with panic.

Bryn’s scream slices through the quiet woods. and she rushes toward me, grabbing my shoulder, trying to pull me free. “Oh no! Aspen, what do I do?!”

Her breath hitches, high-pitched and trembling with panic, scrambling my thoughts.

The rope tightens with every movement, cutting into my skin, and I wince as a sharp pain shoots up my leg; my ankle throbs, but my head feels worse, blood surges downward, making it pound, and my heart races in my throat, each beat loud and suffocating.

This is a human trap, and the rope looks recent, not worn out like relics from the plague. Someone set this up recently, which means people are nearby, and with my luck, it’s Hunters!

I reach for my knife, but it’s gone, probably fell when the trap snapped. “Bryn, find the knife!”

I bark, and she drops to her knees, clawing through the leaves, her fingers trembling as she searches.

The throbbing in my ankle is unbearable, but I grit my teeth. It doesn’t feel broken; I’ll still be able to run if we can get out of this.

“I can’t find it!”

Bryn wails, her words cracking as tears fill her eyes. “This is my fault!”

My chest tightens. This is bad. This is really bad. “Bryn, you need to leave.”

Her head snaps up. “No! I can’t do this without you!”

She grabs my shoulders, her eyes wide and desperate.

I freeze at the faint crunch of leaves. Footsteps sound from the tree line, and my breath catches as Bryn stiffens.

She grabs a thick branch nearby and raises it like a bat, standing close to me to protect me. I yank at the rope, trying to free my ankle, but it’s no use.

A deep, rough voice emerges from the shadows. “It’s not the type of animal you were hoping for.”

A chill slices through me, colder than the autumn air.

Hunters…

Knox

“What the fuck was that?”

I ask Max when the sound of a screech comes from behind the trees as we are getting ready to return to base.

Max cocks an eyebrow, smirking. “Sounds like the foot snare. Might be a big one this time.”

He grinds his teeth. This fucker eats like a bear, always hungry, but we already have more meat than we need, but hey, if it was caught, it would die there, so we might as well take it with us.

We move close to the trees, our black combat gear blending seamlessly with the shadows, using the dense foliage to stay hidden. Guns drawn, I nod, and Max heads to the left, kneeling behind a branch as I circle, keeping my gun aimed in the direction of the sounds, every movement calculated to stay invisible just in case.

Our breathing is controlled; in sync with the wind above our heads, we don’t make a sound, moving like panthers in the wilderness.

I lower myself and step slowly into the sun, feeling the heat of it on my skin, and what I see is the complete opposite of what I was expecting: two women are there, one of them, blond, with legs for years, stands tall with a trunk in hand, breathing uncontrollably, knuckles white on the wood trunk as she looks around.

The other one got caught in the triggered leg snare trap and is standing upside down, her long dark hair dangling almost to the floor; there is a look in her eyes that isn’t fear; she is pissed, and she thrashes around the rope trying to get free, but there is no use, not with Max knots.

“It’s not the type of animal you were hoping for,”

I warn Max, whistling to get him to come from behind the tree. “It’s something more interesting.”

Max walks to my left, gun still pointing to the front, and his eyes widen. “Oh fuck!”

he whispers.

The two flinch, their eyes darting between us; the blond swings the trunk around.

“Stay back!”

she yells, her words cracking as her fingers tighten around the wood. Her movements are clumsy, stumbling under its weight.

But the brunette freezes, her piercing gaze fixed on me, every move I make and every breath I take.

Max holsters the gun back, raising his hands, but I see her, the brunette, reaching for something in her back, “Gun,”

I grunt; we both roll to the ground as she pulls the gun and shoots. Adrenaline spikes as the bullet grazes too damn close, forcing me to roll behind the nearest tree.

Fucking hell!

A tense pause settles over us, the air thick with danger, and Max’s voice rises, sharp and commanding.

“Easy, sweetheart,”

he yells, “We aren’t going to hurt you.”

She shoots again in Max’s direction, hitting the tree he is standing behind. The girl has good aim, even standing upside down.

“I don’t think she cares,”

I hiss at Max, but he shakes his head.

“Come on now, you can’t stay hanging by your leg all day,”

Max pushes. “I swear we won’t hurt you.”

“You Hunters always say that!”

She screams back, her words cutting through the air, sharp and defiant.

The blond one is kneeling on the floor, covering her ears.

They think we’re hunters; that explains the reaction. “We’re not fucking hunters,”

I say through gritted teeth, keeping my gun steady.

“Right,”

one of them snaps, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “With that gear on you, what are you? Bird watchers?”

I turn my head slightly, locking eyes with the fucking brunette. She’s the one mouthing off; she has got balls, that’s for sure!

“We’re soldiers,”

Max says, peeking around the tree. His tone is calm, like he’s trying to defuse a bomb.

There’s a tense silence before the blonde speaks, “Like… army soldiers?”

“Yes, sweetheart,”

Max replies, stepping out slowly from behind the tree, but my rifle stays trained on the brunette, whose finger has finally moved off the trigger. I don’t care; even if she twitches, I’ll put a bullet through her skull.

“Can you release her without hurting her?”

the blonde asks softer now, but she’s still clutching that damn trunk like her life depends on it.

Max nods and steps closer, always playing the hero, and I step forward too, my tone cutting through the air. “He’ll help, but only if your friend there tosses the gun to the ground.”

The blonde glances at me, then at her friend. I gesture toward the dirt with my rifle, but the brunette’s emerald-green eyes stay fixed on mine; she doesn’t move.

I wouldn’t drop it either, I think to myself, but still, she doesn’t have a choice. “You drop it, or you stay hanging there.”

The blonde turns to the brunette, almost pleading now. “Let them help. They’re soldiers.”

The brunette huffs, her jaw tight as she snaps, “And? Aren’t most hunters ex-soldiers too?”

She’s not wrong.

“Drop the gun,”

I bark, my patience wearing thin. “Or we leave you here for the bears.”

She stares at me for another moment before her lips press into a thin line, and slowly, she tucks the gun behind her back, slipping it into the waistband of her jeans. The fucking brat doesn’t toss it, of course not.

Max gives me a nod, and I lower my rifle just enough to let him approach. “I’ll need you to drop that trunk, sweetheart,”

he says to the blonde, his tone soft but firm.

She hesitates, her knuckles whitening around the wood, but eventually, she tosses it aside with a grunt, stepping away from it but not leaving the brunette’s side, and the way she looks at her like she’s her lifeline sends a prickle of unease down my spine.

What the fuck are two women doing out here alone?

I look around, making sure no one will jump us from behind.

Max moves closer to the brunette, and I see her flinch as he raises his arm, supporting her weight with one hand. “Release the rope, Knox,”

he says over his shoulder.

I sling my rifle behind my back and move to the tree; untying the knot, the rope slackens, and the brunette gasps as Max steadies her, his hand firm on her back. She tries to put weight on her foot but winces, nearly collapsing.

“Does it hurt?”

Max asks, kneeling to inspect her ankle; his fingers press and rotate it gently, but her green eyes dart between him and me, suspicious and sharp, like a damn black panther ready to strike.

“Thank you,”

the blonde says, her tone soft and sweet, like honey dripping from her lips.

“The brunette’s head snaps to her.

I raise an eyebrow.

“Why are you thanking them? It’s their trap!”

She points at the jagged steel still half-buried in the ground. “This is all your fault!”

She points at me.

I chuckle, shaking my head. Ungrateful little bitch.

“What are you two doing here?”

Max asks, his tone calm, almost kind, though the tension in his stance remains. “Are you two alone?”

The brunette clamps her mouth shut, but the blonde steps forward, her tall, lean frame swaying slightly. “Yes,”

she says hesitantly, her piercing blue eyes meeting Max’s. “We’ve been traveling for weeks, looking for a safe place. We… we ran from some hunters.”

She hesitates, glancing at the brunette. “Aspen saved me from the—”

“Enough!”

the brunette barks, cutting her off.

“Aspen, huh?”

I lean back against the tree, crossing my arms.

The blonde ignores her friend’s glare. “I’m Brynlee, but you can call me Bryn,”

she says, flashing a quick, nervous smile.

“So, Aspen saved you from Hunters?”

I ask, my gaze locking on the brunette. “How’d a small thing like you pull that off?”

She is what? Five-four?

Her eyes narrow. “I have my methods, army boy.”

Damn, that fire in her tone sends a shiver straight to my cock.

“She’s been on her own for years,”

Bryn chimes in.

Aspen turns to her sharply, her expression a mix of panic and fury, but Bryn doesn’t stop. “We only met a few weeks ago.”

Years? Alone? My mind races. How the fuck has she survived that long? Women like her are hunted like diamonds, prized and pursued relentlessly.

“How’d you manage that, Aspen?”

I ask, letting her name roll off my tongue.

She flinches, her eyes flicking to me, her jaw tightening. “I’m good at surviving,”

she snaps, her eyes flashing with venom, and the sharpness of her words only makes me want to press her further.

“Doesn’t look like it,”

I say, nodding toward the trap.

She huffs, crossing her arms.

Max straightens up, towering over her. “It’s not broken,”

he says, brushing the dirt from his hands. “Just needs rest, so I wrapped it to help with the pain.”

Aspen takes a step back, her breathing shallow, and I see it, the flicker of fear she’s trying so hard to hide.

Max walks towards me, his expression grim. Now we have a fucking problem. If we let them go, they might lead someone back here, or worse, they’re lying, and their group is waiting to ambush us.

“What now, man?”

Max murmurs beside me, voice low and tight with uncertainty.

“We shoot them,”

I reply flatly, without hesitation. “One in the head. Fast. Painless.”

Max snaps, his eyes flashing with anger. “What the fuck? We saved them just to kill them?”

“We?”

I raise an eyebrow, my gaze unwavering. “You saved them. I just stayed here.”

Max growls under his breath, a mix of frustration and disbelief. I can see it in his eyes.

There is a reason my code name is Reaper; I don’t have a problem killing someone if that means saving our own. Although shooting two unarmed women isn’t my style.

“We can’t let them go, Max; it’s too dangerous,”

I explain, trying to make him see the reality of the situation.

“We can take them with us,”

his eyes travel to the girls.

“Don’t think with your dick, brother; that always brings us problems.”

I brush my hair with my hand. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?

Bring two women to the base? And then what? Fuck.

“They can be of use,”

he continues, “It’s been seven years since we’ve had any company, Reaper,”

he trails off.

It has been seven years since we’ve been close to women or anyone else. We’ve seen them when we go into town for supplies, but we keep our distance, and now having two living with us?

“You said it yourself, Knox; we can’t let them go. We aren’t going to kill them, so,”

he pauses, his eyes finally meeting mine. “We have to bring them with us.”

Before I can answer, I hear Aspen snap, “The hell you will.”

She is pointing her gun at us, her eyes locked on the barrel. For fuck’s sake!

“Guns aren’t toys, little girl.”

I blurt out, and oh, does that make her even more pissed! She shoots right next to me; one inch to the left, and she would’ve taken part of my ear.

“Fuck, are you crazy?”

She either has perfect aim, or I’m the luckiest bastard alive. I stride towards her, and the blond one moves to the side, covering her face and bracing herself for an impact, and I frown.

What the fuck have these two been through? I reach for the gun and twist her wrist as she presses the trigger, another bullet flying as I lean over.

“No more bullets,”

I smirk, and the blood drains from her face.

“You have two choices.”

Her fingers claw at my arm, but my grip doesn’t budge. “Either come with us or take a bullet to the head.”

I let her go and push her back slightly, making her stumble on her hurt ankle; she winces but straightens up immediately with a defiant stance. “Your choice.”

She stares at me, and back to Max, he crosses his arms; he isn’t going to help her if that’s what she thinks.

“Aspen,”

the blond intervenes, her hand tracing Aspen’s arm. The brunette turns to face her; she murmurs something, and I see the plea in the blond’s eyes.

Aspen’s shoulders drop, she shakes her head, her dark hair shifts like a shadow in the breeze, her skin glowing under the sun.

Bryn steps closer, cupping Aspen’s arm, her fingers trembling slightly; their foreheads touch, and I catch the faintest whisper between them; whatever she’s saying, it convinces Aspen.

“We will go with you,”

the blond says, and I hear a hint of relief.

“Good,”

I murmur before turning to Max, “Let’s get the rest of the gear and move out.”

We’ve been walking for a while; the blond one, Bryn, keeps talking about how she was in a community and she was caught while on a hunt and how Aspen went all superhero to rescue her, but then she mentions something that gets Max’s and my attention.

“I own a little small business, Midnight Whispers.”

That’s all we hear before Aspen slaps her hand on Bryn’s mouth.

We both turn to her. “What did you say?”

Max swallows loudly, his hand clenching beside me.

Aspen shakes her hand, but I step in, breaking their eye contact and pushing Aspen; Max moves to Bryn’s back as I turn my back to Aspen. “What did you say, sweetheart?”

He has that smirk on his lips, and I can’t help my lips from curling up.

“I was a,”

she pauses, her eyes traveling between me and Max, and I see a gleam in them, “call girl.”

The fact that she says it almost like a purr makes me smirk; she knows there isn’t a soldier nearby who doesn’t know what that name was; she owned the most fancy call girl business in half the country. What are the fucking odds?