16. Gael/ Asher
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
GAEL/ ASHER
GAEL
The storm had finally eased. The ground was slick beneath my boots, the scent of wet leaves and churned mud mixing with the residual sting of ozone.
The world felt hushed, as though it were holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable chaos to resume.
I glanced back at Asher, who was leaning against the doorframe of the shelter, his arms crossed over his chest.
The lines of tension in his body were unmistakable, but his gaze softened when it met mine.
We’d barely had a moment to ourselves, to let the fragile connection between us settle into something real.
The memory of our lips crashing together, of skin on skin, was still raw in my mind.
“I’ll scout ahead, check the hunters’ positions, and find you something to eat,” I told him.
Asher nodded, though his jaw tightened.
I half expected him to insist it was his turn to scout, but he must’ve finally accepted that he still wasn’t at his best and simply left it to me.
He’d compromised, and I was proud of him for that. Asher could be darn stubborn at times.
“Don’t be long,” he said.
I smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “Miss me already?”
He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “You wish.”
I turned away, forcing myself to leave the warmth of his presence.
My instincts screamed at me to stay close to him, but we needed information, and he needed sustenance.
The rain-soaked forest seemed to close around me as I moved, every step deliberate and silent.
A snap of a twig made me freeze. I spun, senses flaring, but found nothing. Just the forest whispering secrets in the wind.
I shook it off, chalking it up to my frayed nerves. Get a grip, Gael. I forced myself to focus on the task at hand.
My feet moved on instinct, carrying me farther from Asher.
Each step felt heavier than the last, though I wasn’t sure if it was the thick mud clinging to my boots or my growing uncertainty.
I paused, crouching low to the ground and scanning my surroundings.
Should I head back to Asher? Asher was a fighter, but he was still recovering. I shook my head, shaking off the doubts.
“Stop overthinking,” I muttered, more to quiet the voice in my head than anything else.
I moved deeper into the woods. It wasn’t long before I caught the faint trace of something unnatural. A whiff of gun oil carried on the wind. Hunters.
They were close, but not too close. My guess? A patrol sweeping through the area, looking for signs of us.
I spotted a snapped branch, a boot print too heavy and precise to belong to anyone but them. The trail curved south, away from the cabin.
A little too far to pose an immediate threat, but close enough to keep me on edge.
Satisfied I had their positions locked down for now, I eased back, taking the longer route toward the cabin.
On the way, I caught the faint scurry of movement up ahead.
Instinct took over. I dropped low, scanning the brush until I saw a hare, sleek and quick, darting through the undergrowth.
Asher needed food. I crept forward, my movements fluid and soundless. The hare stopped, ears twitching as if it sensed something.
Too late. In a blur of motion, I lunged, my hand closing around the creature’s body before it could bolt.
It wriggled, its heart racing under my fingers. The kill was quick and clean. The hare went limp in my grip, and a faint satisfaction settled over me.
A small victory, but it was something.
I adjusted my hold on the animal, pleased with the night's work. Food for Asher, knowledge of the hunters’ movements.
We’d be safe for another day, maybe two. I told myself the worry I felt earlier was unnecessary.
Heading back, my thoughts drifted to Asher.
I could picture him there in the cabin, probably pacing despite the ache in his leg, muttering to himself about being left behind.
Stubborn bastard. The corner of my mouth twitched at the thought.
He was infuriating and reckless, but somehow that only made me more determined to keep him alive. To keep him.
I quickened my pace, weaving through the trees with practiced ease, the hare dangling at my side.
ASHER
It was eerily quiet, the faint creak of the rusted metal walls of the temporary shelter the only sound in the darkness.
I shifted my weight against the thin wall. My eyes felt heavy, the weight of exhaustion pulling me under despite the tension thrumming in my chest.
Gael wasn’t back yet. He’d promised to scout and return, but how long had it been?
The worry circled in my head like a vulture, but fatigue won the battle. My eyes fluttered shut, and the cabin melted away into the hazy edges of a dream.
It was Thanksgiving, years ago, before the world had flipped upside down. Back when my family was whole.
The memory came with startling clarity: the warm, golden light of our dining room, the scent of roasted turkey lingering in the air, and the faint hum of music my mom always insisted on playing during holidays.
Dinner had been a loud, messy affair, as it always was with my family. Finn had spent half the meal sneaking bits of food under the table for the dog.
Donovan had teased me relentlessly about something I’d said in passing, and my parents had exchanged amused glances, letting us squabble like the kids we still were.
Later, long after everyone else had gone to bed, I’d woken up thirsty. Padding down to the kitchen in socked feet, I pushed the door open and froze.
Finn and Donovan were huddled by the counter, forks in hand, hovering over what was left of the pumpkin pie.
Finn looked up first, his eyes wide with guilt, a dollop of whipped cream smeared on his cheek. Donovan glanced over his shoulder, grinning.
“Asher,” Donovan drawled, licking his fork clean. “Fancy seeing you here. Midnight snack?”
“What are you doing?” I asked, though the answer was obvious.
“Finishing the pie,” Finn said sheepishly, looking like he’d just been caught stealing the crown jewels.
Donovan snorted. “You’re not gonna tell on us, are you?”
Finn shook his head confidently. “He won’t.”
Donovan raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? You do know Asher, right? The stickler for rules? Mr. By-the-Book?”
I folded my arms, leaning against the doorway. “You done?”
Donovan smirked. “What, with the pie? Not yet. Why, you gonna tattle?”
Without a word, I grabbed a fork from the drawer, stepped up to the counter, and stabbed it into the remaining slice.
Finn’s jaw dropped, and Donovan let out a bark of laughter.
“Didn’t see that coming,” Donovan said, passing me the pie plate.
Finn grinned, a childlike innocence lighting up his face. “See? I told you he wouldn’t.”
The three of us stood there in the kitchen, passing the plate back and forth, laughing over nothing, the kind of laughter that made your ribs hurt.
It was a simple moment, one I’d carried with me through the chaos that came later.
Sometimes I wondered if I’d imagined it, a fragment of a life that felt like someone else’s now.
I woke with a start, the memory slipping away like water through my fingers.
My chest felt heavy, the ache of nostalgia mixing with the cold air around me.
I sat up, shivering. Gael still wasn’t back. My jaw tightened as I glanced toward the door. How much time had passed?
The silence pressed down on me, thick and suffocating. Then I heard a faint creak outside, too deliberate to be the wind.
I froze, my heart hammering. The hunters. Had they found me?
My hand darted under the cot, fingers closing around the handle of my hunting knife.
My gun was useless now, the bullets long spent. Slowly, I got to my feet, moving toward the door with careful, silent steps.
The noise came again, closer this time. My breath came in shallow gasps, every muscle in my body coiled tight.
I gripped the knife harder, trying to calm the tremor in my hand.
The door creaked open. A figure stepped inside, pale and tall, dressed in black. Not a hunter. A vampire.
“Who are you?” I demanded, my voice low and steady despite the fear clawing at my throat.
The vampire didn’t answer. His eyes locked on mine, red and unblinking, and then he lunged.
I barely had time to react, throwing myself to the side as his hand swiped through the air where my head had been.
He moved like liquid shadow, too fast for me to track.
I swung the knife, the blade slicing through empty space as he dodged with inhuman speed.
He came at me again, his movements a blur. I ducked, slashing out blindly, and this time the blade connected.
He hissed, more annoyed than hurt, and backhanded me across the face.
Pain exploded in my jaw as I hit the floor, the knife skittering out of reach. I scrambled backward, my vision swimming.
The vampire loomed over me, his fangs bared. “Pathetic,” he sneered, his voice cold and hollow.
He lunged again, and I kicked out, catching him in the knee. He staggered, just enough for me to roll to the side and grab the knife.
I lashed out, driving the blade into his shoulder. He roared, the sound reverberating through the cabin like a thunderclap.
The vampire grabbed me by the throat, lifting me off the ground. My feet dangled, the air forced from my lungs as I clawed at his hand.
“Gael,” I gasped, the name a whisper, a plea.
The vampire’s grip tightened, and black spots danced in my vision.