18. Roan
Roan
My grip tightens on the hilt of my sword as I press my back to a thick trunk, forcing my breath to slow.
I can feel Aria’s ragged exhale at my side, her shoulder trembling barely an inch away from mine. We’ve managed to slip into the shadows near a giant pine—a vantage point with just enough cover to see the enforcers filtering through our forest.
There are four of them—two pairs moving in tandem, their dark cloaks blending seamlessly into the shifting gloom. They’re careful, methodical, sweeping through the underbrush with a lethal sort of patience. Trained. Disciplined.
Vampires.
And not just any vampires— her clan.
A sharp pulse of adrenaline burns through my veins, but I force myself to steady. I’ve never fought a vampire before, but I’ve seen Aria bleed. I know what she is. I know what they are.
And if they bleed, they can be killed.
I tighten my grip on my sword, testing the weight of it in my palm. My knuckles ache from how hard I’ve been gripping the hilt. I exhale slowly, rolling my shoulders back, keeping my stance loose. Fear will only make me slower.
I spare a quick glance at Aria.
She’s gone still beside me, but not in the way I’d hoped. Her breath comes too shallow, her fingers trembling just slightly where they curl against her cloak. Her gaze darts between the moving figures, not with strategy—but with something dangerously close to terror.
She’s afraid.
I swallow hard, my grip tightening on my sword.
Of course, she is. This isn’t some nameless enemy. This is her past hunting her down, the monsters that raised her closing in like wolves scenting blood.
And for all her sharp words and steady hands, she’s still standing frozen beside me.
My stomach knots at the fear etched across her face, but I can’t let that distract me. If I lose focus now, we’re both done for.
So I do the only thing I can—I nudge her, just enough to pull her back from wherever her mind has gone. Just enough to remind her she’s not alone.
“Breathe,” I murmur under my breath, eyes still locked on the approaching figures.
Her fingers twitch again, and this time, she tightens them into fists.
Another figure joins the group, radiating authority, whispering orders I can’t quite make out. I catch fragments—“search,” “don’t let her escape,” “traitor.” The words ignite a spark of anger in my chest.
They’re talking about Aria.
Movement draws my attention to the left. One of the cloaked enforcers breaks off from the group, heading closer to our position. My body tenses. We can’t just wait here to be discovered, and I doubt we can retreat without notice.
My pulse pounds against my ribs as I shift forward, every muscle coiled tight.
Five against two. The odds suck, but I’ve survived worse.
And this time, I have something to fight for.
Aria is silent behind me, but I can feel her presence, her nervous energy thrumming in the air between us. She hasn’t bolted, hasn’t crumpled. But she’s not a fighter, not really—not yet. I can’t let them get to her.
I press a hand back, fingers brushing her arm in the faintest of reassurances. Stay behind me.
She gives a shaky nod, pressing herself against the tree as I slip past her, drawing my sword in one fluid motion. The enforcer moves closer, his steps quiet but not quiet enough. He’s confident. They all are. They think they have this under control.
They don’t.
The enforcer steps into a slant of moonlight, close enough now that I can make out the sharp lines of his face, the gleam of his fangs as he parts his lips slightly, scenting the air. My grip tightens around the hilt of my blade.
Then he freezes.
His head snaps up, his dark eyes locking onto mine.
Shit .
No more waiting.
I lunge.
In one swift motion, I pivot around the tree, sword slicing through the stale air. The enforcer’s eyes widen in surprise—the bastard didn’t expect me to strike first.
Good.
My blade arcs downward, forcing them to raise their own weapon. Steel meets steel with a jarring clang.
They’re quick, pivoting to avoid my follow-up slash, cloak billowing. I push forward, ignoring the sting of branches crunching under my boots, focusing on driving them back. Behind me, I hear Aria’s ragged breaths.
Another figure rushes in, and I shift to block them, taking a glancing blow on my forearm. Pain jolts up to my elbow, but I grit my teeth, batting their sword aside. We trade two rapid strikes, sparks flying in the dim light, before I manage to kick them square in the chest. They stumble into the dirt.
The fight is chaos.
I don’t get a moment to breathe—the other three close in, moving in perfect tandem. Not amateurs. They try to flank me, their steps practiced, their eyes cold. This isn’t some scouting party. They aren’t here to warn or capture.
They’re here to kill.
And they’re here to take her.
Not happening.
My free hand fumbles for a dagger at my belt, the weight reassuring as I pivot sharply. One leaps forward, blade angled straight for my chest, and I barely parry in time. The impact rattles through my arm, but I keep my stance firm. Another shifts behind me, fast. Too fast. I spin, hooking my foot around their ankle, and they crash to the ground with a sharp curse.
No time to celebrate. The first one is already resetting, coming at me again. I slam the pommel of my sword into their temple, sending them staggering.
Movement in the corner of my eye—Aria.
She steps from the shadows, moving with a silent grace that almost startles me. She cheats, I think, watching as she wrenches a thick branch from the ground and swings it directly into an enforcer’s ribs. They stumble, eyes widening at the unexpected hit, and she follows through with a brutal shove and a slash of her dagger.
She’s learning. A surge of pride flares in my chest—but it’s short-lived.
“Get back!” I bark. Stay safe.
She doesn’t listen. Of course she doesn’t. Instead, she stays close, eyes darting between me and the remaining attackers. She’s tense, wary—but she’s not running.
I don’t have time to argue. Another enforcer lunges at me. I meet them halfway, blades clashing, sparks flying in the dim light.
And then I hear her.
A sharp intake of breath—one that doesn’t belong to me.
I risk a glance.
Aria’s face has gone pale. Her whole body has locked up, her grip on the dagger faltering. And then I see why.
One of the enforcers steps forward, face half-lit in the flickering glow of the fight. His mouth twists into something cruel as his gaze locks onto Aria.
“Well, well. Look what we have here.” His voice is smooth, mocking. “I almost didn’t believe it when they said you ran. But here you are, playing human.”
The enforcer tilts his head, amusement dancing in his cold eyes. “Your mother will be so disappointed. All that power, all that promise—wasted on this . ” His gaze flicks briefly to me before settling back on her. “Did you really think she’d just let you go?”
A slow, deliberate step forward.
Aria doesn’t move.
“Come quietly,” he murmurs. “Save us the trouble. Save her the embarrassment.”
He reaches for Aria.
Her breath catches—a soft, shuddering thing. She doesn’t move.
She’s frozen.
Something inside me snaps .
I shove her behind me—hard—just as his fingers graze the air where she stood.
"Not happening," I snarl, stepping between them.
His eyes cut to mine, sharp with irritation—but I don’t give him a chance to speak. I slam my elbow into his gut, and he doubles over with a grunt.
But he’s fast—too fast—and already recovering, blade out, teeth bared.
I brace for impact.
Then there’s a sudden scuffle behind me—footsteps, breath, panic.
Aria.
She didn’t run.
She should’ve run.
I twist, just in time to see her, dagger in hand, eyes wide and wild. Her hands shake, but her feet are sure.
With a sharp inhale, she lunges.
The blade sinks deep into his side, between the dark armor, buried up to the hilt.
He chokes on a gasp, eyes going wide.
So do hers.
And then the blood comes.
A flood of it, warm and thick and real, soaking through the dark fabric of his tunic.
Aria’s whole body jolts. She stares at the wound, at the way his blood coats her hands, staining her fingers. Her breath comes in short, uneven gasps.
The enforcer stumbles, but doesn’t fall.
He turns on her, a snarl twisting his lips. “You little bitch.”
I don’t let him take another step. I knock him back hard. The blade slides out and his body crumples against the forest floor, gasping, bleeding out.
The remaining two try to rally, but they’re already lost. They should’ve run when they had the chance.
I move fast, brutal, efficient. A blade finds its home between ribs. The last one tries to flee—I don’t let him.
And just like that, it’s over.
Five bodies, motionless beneath the canopy. The scent of blood heavy in the air.
Silence.
I turn to Aria.
She’s still holding the knife.
Her chest heaves, fingers trembling around the hilt. The enforcer at her feet has stopped moving.
She’s still staring at the blood.
“Aria,” I say carefully.
She blinks, then looks up. Something in her eyes has changed.
Her lips part like she wants to say something—but then, instead, she drops the knife. It clatters against the dirt, the sound oddly loud in the sudden quiet.
I step forward and catch her wrist before she can turn away.
“You did what you had to do.” My voice is quieter than I expect.
Her jaw clenches. Her free hand curls into a fist. “I—”
Her breath stutters.
I don’t let go.
She swallows, and then finally—finally—nods.
“We need to go,” I say, voice still low.
She nods again, eyes lingering on the bodies.
I grab her discarded dagger, wipe the blade clean, and press it back into her palm.