7. Gael
CHAPTER SEVEN
GAEL
Hollow Vale, the last stop on the train and our new destination, felt like a trap closing in with every step.
The smell of hunters hung in the air, a mix of gun oil and sweat that made my fangs itch.
And judging by the way Asher's shoulders had gone rigid beside me, he could sense them too.
He looked like he might collapse at any moment, his body swaying slightly with every step, but his eyes betrayed no weakness.
They remained sharp, scanning the streets with a hunter’s precision, darting to every shadow and corner as if he expected danger to leap out at us at any second.
We didn’t belong here.
A hunter and a vampire, walking side by side, one of us limping and barely staying upright, was a sight bound to attract attention.
Anyone watching would see something out of place, something wrong. The thought made me uneasy.
The sky above us was beginning to lighten, the inky black giving way to muted grays. The sun would rise soon. I, no we, needed to find shelter. Fast. There was no time to waste.
“We need to move,” I said, glancing at Asher.
He nodded wordlessly, his jaw clenched tight. I could see the strain in every movement he made, every step a visible struggle, but he didn’t stop.
He wouldn’t last long like this.
“I’m fine,” Asher shot back, as if he’d heard my thoughts.
His voice was rough, but the slight tremor gave him away. He was anything but fine.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “You’re about as fine as a corpse on a slab. Just lean on me.”
“I don’t need?—”
A flicker of movement caught my attention.
Up ahead, two figures stood at the corner where the street opened onto a wider avenue. Hunters.
Their eyes were sharp, hands hovering too close to their weapons.
One of them scanned the sparse traffic, his eyes narrowing as a young woman walked past.
The other turned his head just a fraction toward us.
Shit.
I wrapped my arm around Asher’s waist and pulled him close, feeling his body go rigid against mine.
“What the hell are you—” Asher began.
“Shut up and walk,” I hissed in his ear. “Unless you want to give them a reason to look twice.”
He bristled but didn’t pull away. His weight settled against me, reluctant but necessary.
I felt the heat of his body through the layers of our clothes, the faint tremor in his limbs as his strength wavered.
The hunters weren’t moving yet, but we had seconds, maybe less, before their gaze would inevitably latch onto us.
I tilted my head down, murmuring into Asher’s ear to sell the illusion of intimacy.
“We’re just another couple out for a shitty morning stroll. Keep your head down and let me do the talking if it comes to that,” I told him.
His breath hitched, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if it was pain, frustration, or something else.
Then he nodded, a small, curt motion.
We moved together, my steps slow to match his limping gait.
I felt every ounce of his pride warring with the need to lean on me, every muscle in his body taut and straining. But he did it.
He trusted me, or at least trusted the situation enough to fake it. The hunters’ eyes swept past us, disinterested. For now.
We slipped around the corner, the air feeling marginally less suffocating once we were out of their direct line of sight.
But I didn’t let go of Asher. I couldn’t. His breath was shallow, his leg trembling with exertion.
“Gael,” he muttered through gritted teeth, “I can walk on my own.”
“Yeah, and I can sprout wings and fly,” I shot back. “Humor me.”
He didn’t argue, which worried me more than anything. Asher never missed a chance to push back, to prove he was in control.
But now, he was sagging against me, his strength bleeding out with every step.
The streets around us were waking up. Storefronts were opening, a few cars rolling by, people starting their morning routines.
Too many eyes, too many chances for someone to notice two men who didn’t fit the scenery.
An alleyway yawned to our left, narrow and littered with garbage. It wasn’t much, but it would do.
I steered Asher into the shadows, pressing him against the brick wall as gently as I could.
He let out a sharp hiss, his fingers curling into fists.
“Just a minute,” I said, scanning the mouth of the alley for any sign of movement. “We need a plan.”
Asher’s laugh was bitter. “Thought you always had one.”
I turned to glare at him, but the anger died when I saw the sheen of sweat on his forehead.
The pain etched into the corners of his mouth.
The bastard was hurting, and I’d dragged him through hell just to keep him alive.
My chest tightened in a way I didn’t want to examine.
“We can’t stay here long,” I said, more to myself than him. “They’re swarming the place.”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “I noticed.”
His eyes met mine, dark and guarded.
There was something else there, though. Something raw and vulnerable he probably didn’t even realize he was showing me.
I hated that it twisted something deep inside me, made me want to protect him in a way that went beyond survival instinct.
Damn it.
“Look,” I said, my voice low, “I can get us out of here, but you need to trust me. Can you do that?”
He stared at me, the silence stretching. Then, finally, he nodded. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
I smirked. “Not really.”
I took another quick glance at the alley’s entrance, then further down the narrow passage.
It led out onto another street, quieter and less exposed. It was a risk, but it was our best shot.
“Come on,” I said, slipping my arm around his waist again. “We’re almost out of this mess.”
He didn’t resist this time, letting me bear more of his weight.
His body was warm against mine, each shaky breath a reminder of just how fragile humans were.
A reminder I couldn’t afford to forget.
We moved slowly, the world narrowing to the next step.
Every sound was amplified. The distant murmur of voices, the soft scrape of our feet against the pavement, the dull throb of my own pulse in my ears.
We reached the end of the alley, and I peered around the corner.
The street was mostly empty, save for a parked car and an old man sweeping the sidewalk in front of a shop.
No sign of hunters. Not yet.
“We’re clear,” I whispered. “Let’s go.”
As we stepped out, Asher’s leg buckled. I caught him before he hit the ground, my grip tightening around his waist.
“Shit,” he hissed, his face contorted in pain.
“We’re almost there,” I said, trying to sound reassuring even though my gut was a knot of anxiety. “Just hold on.”
He grunted, leaning into me. We made it across the street, slipping into the shadows of another building.
My senses were on high alert, every nerve screaming that we were being watched, hunted. And then I heard the faint crunch of boots on pavement. Close. Too close.
I spun around, shoving Asher behind me just as a figure stepped into view at the far end of the street.
The dull glint of a weapon caught the weak morning light.
Hunter. He saw us. His eyes narrowed, his hand moving to raise his gun. I didn’t think. I just moved.
Faster than any human could register, I closed the distance between us, grabbing the barrel of the gun and twisting it aside.
The shot went off, a sharp crack that split the air.
I closed my hand around his neck, broke it. He crumpled to the ground. But there were more footsteps, more shouts.
The shot had given us away.
I turned back to Asher, who was staring at me, his eyes wide with pain and frustration.
“We need to keep going,” I told him.
He nodded, gritting his teeth. “Then let’s go.”
We stumbled forward, desperation fueling us.
The town blurred around us. A maze of buildings and alleys, of too-bright light and too-thin shadows.
The hunters were closing in. They were like wolves on a scent, relentless and deadly.
We couldn’t keep this up. Asher couldn’t.
His breaths were coming in shallow, labored gasps, and each step seemed harder for him than the last.
His limp was worsening, his weight leaning more heavily on me with every passing second.
If we didn’t stop soon, they wouldn’t need to fight us. He’d collapse on his own.
My eyes darted frantically, searching for any way out of the open streets, any sliver of safety.
Then I saw it: the weathered door of an old, boarded-up shop to our left.
The wood was warped, the paint faded, but it might as well have been a sanctuary in that moment.
“This way,” I said, not waiting for a response.
Without hesitation, I shifted Asher’s weight off me just enough to free my leg and kicked at the door.
The wood nearly splintered under the force, the sound sharp and violent against the quiet of the pre-dawn streets.
The door didn’t give on the first attempt, but I gritted my teeth and kicked again, harder this time.
The frame buckled, and the door flew open, revealing only darkness within.
“Come on,” I urged, gripping Asher by the arm and pulling him inside.
He stumbled over the threshold, nearly taking me down with him, but I kept us moving, dragging him deeper into the shadowed interior.
The air inside was stale, thick with the scent of mildew and disuse. Dust hung in the air, disturbed by our hurried entrance.
The faintest shafts of light crept through the cracks in the boarded-up windows, barely enough to see by.
“Sit down,” I said, my voice softer but firm.
Asher didn’t argue, sinking to the floor with a wince, his back against the wall.
His head tipped back, eyes closing for a moment, but even in his exhaustion, he didn’t look relaxed.
I crouched beside him, scanning the room for anything we could use. A weapon, a hiding spot, anything.
The shop was empty, just bare shelves and broken furniture. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than the open streets.
“We’ll stay here until they pass,” I said, more to myself than to him.
Asher cracked one eye open, his lips pulling into a weak smirk. “You think they’ll just give up?”
I didn’t answer.