Chapter Ten
Lucas
We stopped in a clearing deep in the woods, the moonlight cutting through the branches like shards of silver. Annika sagged against me, her breathing shallow, but she was alive. Safe… for now. That should’ve been enough.
But Kael wasn’t done.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he snarled, rounding on me the moment we stopped moving. “You risked everything, all of us, for what? A chance?”
I stepped away from Annika and turned to face him, the heat rising fast in my chest. “I was thinking I wasn’t going to sit on my hands any longer while they drained her dry!”
“You didn’t think at all!” he snapped. “Charging in like that could’ve gotten her killed. Could’ve gotten all of us killed!”
“I wasn’t alone,” I shot back, my voice sharp. “I had Callum. And I had you—”
“Because I had to follow you!” His eyes burned as he stalked closer, his shoulders squared. “You didn’t give me a choice, Lucas. I had a plan! We had a plan. But no, you had to throw that out the window because you couldn’t control yourself for five goddamn minutes!”
I felt the anger coil tighter in my gut. “I’m not going to apologize for saving her.”
“No one’s asking you to apologize for that!” Kael shouted. “But you’re supposed to lead. To think. Not run headlong into danger and drag the rest of us with you!”
“Don’t you dare lecture me about leadership.” My voice dropped lower, colder. “Not after you left her there. You had days, Kael. Days to get her out, and what did you do? You waited. You watched. So don’t stand there and act like you’re the only one who cares what happens to her.”
Kael’s fists clenched at his sides, and for a moment, I thought he might throw a punch. Part of me wanted him to. The pressure in my chest begged for release, and a fight would’ve been easier than standing there, letting the weight of his words sink in.
“Stop it!” Annika’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.
We both turned to her. She stood a few steps away, her face pale but fierce, her eyes blazing even as her body swayed with exhaustion.
“This isn’t helping,” she said, her voice tight. “We’re out. We’re alive. And we need to stay that way.”
I took a breath, but the anger was still there, raw and burning. “Tell him that,” I muttered.
“Both of you,” she snapped. “We need to stick together, not tear each other apart.”
Kael stepped back, raking a hand through his hair. “You’re right,” he said, though his voice was stiff. “But we can’t keep making reckless moves like this. If we do, we’re dead.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Not without lashing out again.
Kael exhaled sharply and turned away, pacing the edge of the clearing. Annika sank down onto a fallen log, and I dropped beside her, my hands still trembling from the adrenaline.
Her fingers brushed mine, grounding me.
“You can’t keep doing this,” she said softly. “Throwing yourself into danger like that. It’s not just about you anymore.”
I met her eyes and saw the fear she was trying to hide. Not fear for herself, but for me.
“I couldn’t leave you there,” I said, my voice quieter now. “I won’t.”
Her fingers tightened around mine. “I know. But we need to be smarter.”
Kael stopped pacing and looked back at us, his expression unreadable. “We need to keep moving before they track us,” he said.
We rode into the town just before dawn, the first light breaking over the horizon and painting the sky in streaks of pale gold and gray. The gates groaned open, and the sight that met us made something tighten in my chest.
Everyone gathered at the entrance, their faces pale with worry and exhaustion. But as soon as they saw us, saw her, a ripple of relief broke through the crowd like a wave.
They cheered.
Annika stiffened beside me, still perched in the saddle, her fingers tightening around my arm. She wasn’t used to this, being the center of attention. But it didn’t matter to them. To them, she was hope. The woman they’d almost lost and the woman we’d fought to bring back.
I dismounted first, then turned to help her down. She wobbled the moment her feet touched the ground, but I was already there, catching her before she could fall.
The crowd surged closer, hands reaching out, voices overlapping.
“Thank heavens!”
“We thought you were dead!”
“Are you hurt?”
“Did they hurt you?”
Annika tried to answer, her voice soft and unsure, but the questions kept coming. I stepped in front of her, my body blocking hers as the noise grew louder.
“That’s enough,” I said sharply, my voice cutting through the chaos. “She’s alive. She’s safe. That’s all you need to know right now.”
The murmurs quieted, and one by one, they backed off. Some still stared, their eyes lingering on her pale face, her torn dress, the shadows under her eyes. But no one pushed closer.
Callum dismounted behind me, his voice carrying over the crowd. “We need food and rest… and someone get the healer.”
Several people darted off at his words, and slowly, the crowd began to break apart, though the whispers lingered.
Annika leaned into me, her head resting briefly against my shoulder. “They’re staring,” she whispered.
“Let them.” My arm stayed tight around her waist, steadying her. “You’re here. That’s all that matters.”
Her fingers curled into the fabric of my cloak, but she didn’t say anything.
Kael dismounted last, his hood down, his expression as sharp as ever. He didn’t look at the crowd. Only at me. And I knew what he was thinking.
It’s not over.
I nodded subtly, already feeling the weight of it pressing down on me again. Annika was safe, for now, but the war wasn’t won. Not even close.
The healer arrived, an older woman with steady hands and a sharp eye. She ushered Annika away despite her protests, leaving me standing in the square as the crowd dispersed.
I felt the loss of her warmth immediately.
Callum stepped up beside me, his voice low. “You did it.”
I shook my head. “We did it.”
“And we’ll have to do it again,” Kael said, his tone flat as he joined us. “They’re not going to stop. Not until they have her—or until we end this.”
I exhaled slowly, the weight of his words sinking in.
“I know.” I nodded. “Get some rest, both of you.”
Without waiting for either Kael or Callum to reply, I found Annika and swept her into my arms and carried her into the cottage. She didn’t fight me, just leaned against me, her breath soft and warm against my neck. The door creaked as I pushed it open, the familiar scent of home enveloping us both.
I laid her down gently on the bed, brushing strands of hair from her face. She looked up at me with a weak smile, her lips cracked, her cheeks pale, but there was still fire in her eyes.
“I must look awful,” she said, her voice raspy but playful. “Filthy, bruised, and smelling like a shifter’s kennel.”
I huffed a breath, leaning down so our noses almost touched. “You look perfect.”
She rolled her eyes, her smile widening just a little. “Liar. I’m dying for a bath.”
A laugh escaped me, sharp and unexpected, breaking through the tension that had coiled inside me for days. “You’re not dying.” I brushed my thumb over her cheek, softer this time. “But you are getting a bath.”
Her brows lifted. “In here?”
I smirked. “Don’t move.”
I left her there, slipping out the door before she could protest. It didn’t take long to find what I needed. Callum, still lingering near the gates, called for help, and within minutes, a tub was hauled inside the cottage. Heavy iron, wide enough to fit her comfortably.
The men set it near the fire while I fetched buckets of hot water, the heat steaming against the cool air. My muscles burned, but I didn’t stop until it was filled almost to the brim. The scent of herbs drifted through the room, lavender, mint, and chamomile. Soothing and sharp all at once.
Once we were alone again, Annika watched me from the bed, her lips parted, her gaze softening as I knelt beside the tub and tested the water.
“Perfect,” I said, then turned to her. “Come here.”
She pushed herself up slowly, wincing, but I was there before she could fall, scooping her up again.
“Lucas,” she protested weakly.
“Don’t argue,” I muttered, carrying her to the tub.
I set her down beside it, steadying her as she reached for the edge. She wobbled, but my hands stayed firm on her waist. She looked up at me, her eyes searching mine.
I knelt beside the tub, the heat from the water curling against my skin, but it was nothing compared to the warmth radiating from her. My fingers went to the edge of her dress, the fabric torn and stained, clinging to her skin like a reminder of what she’d been through. Gently, I lifted it, peeling it away inch by inch. She shivered, though whether from the cold or my touch, I couldn’t tell.
I paused, my gaze sweeping over her as the fabric slipped lower. I could see pale skin marred with faint bruises and scratches. Marks that shouldn’t have been there. Marks that made something inside me burn.
“You’re beautiful,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended.
Her lips parted, her breath catching, but she didn’t look away.
I pushed the dress the rest of the way down, letting it pool at her feet, leaving her bare in the firelight. My eyes traced the curve of her shoulders, the slope of her collarbone, the soft swell of her breasts. I wanted to memorize every inch of her, not just for how perfect she was but for the strength she carried. Even now, fragile but unbroken.
She crossed her arms, instinctively covering herself. I caught her wrists, pulling them gently away.
“Don’t,” I murmured. “Don’t hide from me.”
Her eyes searched mine, unsure, but then her arms fell to her sides, leaving her exposed. Vulnerable. But she wasn’t afraid.
I reached out, trailing my fingers down her arm, over her bruises, as if my touch could erase them. She leaned into it, her skin warm beneath my hand. Her breath shuddered as I traced the lines of her ribs and the curve of her waist.
“You’re staring,” she whispered.
“I can’t help it.” My voice was low, raw. “You’re perfect, Annika.”