18. Gael
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
GAEL
Asher’s motionlessness haunted me. He lay on the makeshift bed, his body eerily unmoving, as though caught between life and death.
I sat beside him, my hand brushing against his cold cheek. No reaction. No flicker of recognition.
I reminded myself this was normal. The transformation wasn’t instant; it took time, at least forty-eight hours, sometimes longer.
But the waiting...the waiting was torture.
Patience had never been my strong suit, and vigilance was my only refuge now. I couldn’t let my guard down.
The forest swarmed with hunters, and we were still too close to the danger zone.
Asher needed to complete his transformation somewhere safe, somewhere secure.
The irony wasn’t lost on me: I was trying to protect the man who, under different circumstances, would have been my sworn enemy.
I reached for the knife lying beside him on the ground. It was his favorite.
If Asher had any sentimental attachments, this blade was certainly one of them.
I slid it into my belt, then bent down and gathered him into my arms. His weight surprised me. Asher was so light, almost fragile. I stepped out of the shelter.
The forest around us was alive with noise, branches swaying in the wind, distant animal calls, but I kept my focus on the task at hand.
I moved quickly, my senses heightened, scanning for any sign of movement. The blockade I’d scouted before wasn’t far.
It was a gamble, but it might be our best shot at getting out of here alive.
I spotted the jeep before I heard the voices. It was parked just beyond the blockade, a testament to the hunters’ overconfidence.
The key still hung from the ignition, a careless mistake. Perhaps they thought no one would dare approach their vehicle.
Well, they hadn’t accounted for me.
Carefully, I lowered Asher into the passenger seat, ensuring his body rested securely. He didn’t stir. Not a sound, not a twitch.
My chest tightened, but I forced myself to focus. There was no time to dwell on what couldn’t be changed. Not yet.
I slipped into the driver’s seat and gripped the wheel, sparing a glance toward the cluster of tents in the distance.
The hunters were likely resting for the evening, their guard down. But that wouldn’t last.
The engine roared to life, shattering the forest’s stillness. Almost immediately, shouting erupted from the camp.
Figures scrambled out of the tents, their movements frantic. I didn’t wait to see what they would do next.
Slamming the gear into drive, I pressed down on the accelerator.
The jeep tore forward, bouncing over uneven ground as I made for the main road.
In the rearview mirror, I saw the hunters giving chase on foot. One of them raised a gun, but the distance between us was too great.
A single shot rang out, missing the jeep by a mile. I let out a humorless laugh. Desperation made people reckless.
Once I hit the main road, I didn’t look back.
The jeep sped along the deserted highway, the towering trees blurring into a sea of green on either side. I didn’t dare slow down.
Returning to the town where we first got off the train wasn’t an option. It was too risky.
Instead, I followed the signs pointing to the next town.
Asher had mentioned Declan and his team were preoccupied with another hunt; maybe that would buy us time.
Then there was Bram. He likely assumed he’d succeeded in killing Asher. And he probably thought I’d be too devastated to think straight.
Too broken to fight back, or worse, that I’d eventually return to Craven Hill, back to Beric and the nest, tail between my legs.
That would be the logical move in Bram’s mind.
Beric would demand answers, of course, but Bram would count on my loyalty or at least my pragmatism, to smooth over any doubts.
For now, he’d probably give me space and time, expecting grief to do his dirty work and push me back into the fold.
Or so I’d like to hope. Because if Bram wasn’t waiting, if he was already hunting us, then we were out of time.
And the thought of what he might do if he caught us... I couldn’t afford to dwell on it.
Not when Asher’s life, his second life, depended on me keeping us ahead of the storm. I returned my attention to my present situation.
The miles stretched on, and the horizon began to lighten. Panic prickled at the edges of my mind.
The rising sun was a threat I couldn’t ignore. If I didn’t find shelter soon, we’d both be goners.
An hour before sunrise, I reached the outskirts of a sleepy town.
It wasn’t much. Just a cluster of buildings and an old inn with a flickering neon sign. But it would do. Parking the jeep in the lot, I climbed out.
I stripped Asher of his jacket, then took off my own and draped it over his shoulders to conceal the blood. After that, I hoisted him into my arms once more.
He was still as lifeless as before, his pale face illuminated by the faint glow of the inn’s sign.
The man at the counter barely looked up when I entered. He glanced at Asher, then back at me, his expression a mix of curiosity and disinterest.
“My friend had a little too much to drink,” I said, forcing a casual tone.
“Tourists,” he muttered in disgust, then slid a keycard across the counter. “Room’s upstairs. Second door on the left.”
That was it. No questions, no hassle.
He went back to scrolling through his phone, and I carried Asher up the narrow staircase to our room.
Inside, I laid him gently on the bed, adjusting his limbs so he looked more comfortable.
Then I turned to the windows, pulling the heavy curtains closed and ensuring no sliver of sunlight could seep through.
Satisfied, I stepped back and surveyed the room. It was cramped and smelled faintly of mildew, but it was safe.
That was all that mattered.
Asher didn’t stir. His chest rose and fell with the shallow rhythm of someone caught in a liminal state, neither fully alive nor truly dead.
I sat beside him, brushing a hand through his hair, trying to ignore the ache that settled deep in my chest.
Would he ever forgive me for what I’d done? Did it even matter? All I knew was that I couldn’t bear to lose him.
The jeep needed to go. Leaving it in the lot was asking for trouble.
I slipped out of the room, careful not to wake the man at the front desk, and returned to the vehicle.
Driving it to the edge of town, I parked it in a secluded spot near an abandoned barn.
I wiped down the steering wheel and door handles, erasing any trace of our presence, then walked back to the inn under the cover of darkness.
The streets were empty, the town still asleep. I moved quickly, my footsteps echoing in the quiet.
By the time I reached the inn, the first rays of sunlight were beginning to creep over the horizon.
I slipped inside and locked the door behind me, double-checking the curtains before collapsing onto the bed beside Asher.
He was still motionless, his face serene in the dim light.
I lay down beside him, careful not to disturb his stillness, and draped an arm over his waist. For now, we were safe. But the questions lingered, heavy and unrelenting.
How long could we keep running? What would happen when Asher woke?
Sleep claimed me slowly, my thoughts tangled with worry and fleeting moments of hope.
I woke at sunset and for a few moments, watched Asher’s lifeless form on the bed. His skin was pale, almost translucent, but his chest remained still.
I ran a hand through my hair. It had been almost a full day, and there was still no sign of change.
He looked the same—cold, unmoving, and eerily silent.
I decided to clean him up, grabbing a cloth and basin of water from the corner of the room.
The blood on his face had dried, staining his cheeks and neck like a grim reminder of how close I’d come to losing him.
As I wiped away the dried blood, my movements slowed. He looked peaceful, like he was simply sleeping.
My fingers lingered on his jawline for a moment longer than necessary before I stood, forcing myself to focus.
We couldn’t stay here. It was only a matter of time before Declan or Bram caught up with us. While I loathed to leave Asher like this, I needed to do some scouting.
The first thing I did was retrace my steps from yesterday. It took half an hour to locate the abandoned barn where I’d left the jeep.
A chill skittered down my spine, my senses sharpening.
Something was wrong. I crouched low, blending into the shadows as I scanned the area.
Voices. Human, rough, and too close for comfort. I crept closer, peering through a broken slat in the barn wall.
Declan and his team were inside, their flashlights sweeping across the dark interior.
The beam of one light landed on the jeep, then shifted to the ground where Asher's jacket lay discarded. I silently cursed myself. I should’ve gotten rid of it.
One of the hunters picked it up, holding it high like a trophy.
“This is his,” the hunter said, his voice tinged with satisfaction.
Declan’s face was hard as stone, his jaw clenched tight. “Spread out,” he ordered. “They can’t be far.”
I silently cursed. My first instinct was to charge in and end this, but that would get me killed. Worse, lead them straight to Asher.
I needed to be smart, methodical. So I remained where I was, but I didn’t need to wait long.
The first hunter came too close to where I was hiding. His footsteps crunched against the gravel, the barrel of his rifle swinging side to side.
I lunged silently, wrapping an arm around his throat and dragging him back into the shadows. I squeezed his throat.
He struggled, but it was over in seconds. His body went limp, and I lowered him to the ground.
One down.
The second hunter didn’t see me coming. I crept up behind him as he inspected the barn’s corner.
With a swift motion, I grabbed his head and twisted. The crack echoed faintly, drowned out by the rustling of the wind.
By the time I reached the third, my luck ran out. He turned just as I approached, his flashlight catching me mid-stride.
“Here!” he shouted, raising his rifle. The shot rang out, grazing my shoulder.