Page 33 of Savage Thirst

I walk over and confirm it with a look. Multiple shots. Tight groupings. They made sure it was completely out of commission.

Sage walks to her car, stares for a second, then leans against it and slides down.

For the first time since we met her, she's not posturing or fencing with her words. She looks done, a woman who hit her limit.

I crouch beside her, keeping my tone even. "Sage. The offer still stands. Stay with us. We can help you."

She looks up slowly, eyes shadowed and unreadable. There's something fighting behind them. I can't tell if she's going to bolt again or finally let someone help her.

Sage

Asher looks sincere.

He has no clue what I did. Or almost did. He's offering me help like it's simple. Like I deserve it.

A part of me, the stupid, tired, dangerously hopeful part, wants to say yes. Wants to stop running, to collapse into something safe and rest.

It would be so easy…

My gaze flicks to Kayden. He doesn't say a word, but there's something in his eyes—a flicker of concern, maybe pity. Or maybe I'm reading too much into it. There's a distance now that wasn't there last night. He's still cocky, still carrying that razor-sharp edge of mockery and menace, but something colder has settled beneath it.

I should be relieved. I'm not. It aches more than I want to admit.

I turn back to Asher. Those honest amber eyes are steady and patient. He's the kind of man who doesn't break his word. The kind who means it when he offers help.

It would be so easy...

But nothing's ever easy. Not without strings. Not without someone expecting something in return sooner or later. That's what experience has taught me. What survival has carved into my bones.

I shake my head and stand. "Thanks. I'll be fine. Just need a lift to town."

I move to the car, pop the trunk, and grab my backpack. At least they didn't shoot this part of the vehicle. Inside: granola bars, spare underwear, a motel keycard I forgot to return, and a crumpled plastic bag with a small stash of weed.

Hilarious. I'm not laughing.

Oh, and the damn platinum ring with a giant diamond tucked into the lining. Still there. Haunting me. But that's a memory for another day.

"She won't accept help from the likes of us, brother," Kayden drawls. His voice is mocking, but underneath it there's bitterness. "We're just empty, dead husks. No better than zombies. Just less into brains. Right, sunshine?"

I don't rise to the bait.

I hold the backpack a little tighter and look at Asher instead.

"If that's what you want," he says, his voice calm and warm. "Just… if you're willing to hear it from someone who's been running a long time—eventually, you run out of road."

Kayden snorts at that. Asher turns to him. "I need to take care of these cars. Get them off the road, just in case someone comes sniffing. Can I trust you to get her safely to town?" he asks, looking squarely at Kayden.

"Oh, you know me, brother. I'm a model citizen. I won't even throw in unsolicited wisdom," Kayden says.

Asher looks back at me. "Is that all right?"

I nod, quick and clipped. "Thanks. For everything. I owe you."

"You don't," he says. "Take care, Sage."

Then he turns and walks toward the BMW.

I swallow the knot of shame and regret tightening in my chest. Then Kayden swings around and, with theatrical flair, gestures toward Asher's vehicle.