18. Gael #2
Pain flared, but it only fueled my resolve. I was on him before he could fire again, slamming him into the barn wall.
His head hit the wooden beam with a sickening thud, and he slumped to the ground.
The sound of the gunshot drew the others. Declan appeared at the barn’s entrance, flanked by his remaining men.
His face twisted in fury when he saw the bodies of his fallen team.
“Gael,” he snarled, leveling a crossbow at me. “Where’s Asher? What did you do to him?”
I stepped forward, the moonlight illuminating my bloodstained clothes.
“He’s safe,” I said, my voice low and cold.
Declan’s eyes narrowed, and his grip on the crossbow tightened.
“Safe or dead?” Declan spat, his voice trembling with disgust. “You’ve taken him from everything he knew, from his family, his life, only to kill him in the end. Is that what you call saving him?”
My fists clenched at my sides, my nails biting into my palms. The fury simmered just below the surface, begging to be unleashed.
Who the hell was Declan to make those assumptions, to stand there and cast judgment like he had the moral high ground?
I was tempted to correct him, to throw the truth in his face, but I forced myself to swallow the anger, shoving it down deep where it couldn’t control me.
Better for Declan and the Guild to assume Asher was dead. Safer for all of us.
“You’ll never know now, will you?” I said with a sneer.
Declan’s face twisted in rage, his knuckles white as he gripped his crossbow tighter.
“You vampires,” he snarled, his words dripping with venom. “You ruin everything you touch. You take and destroy without a second thought. If I could burn your entire species to the ground, I would.”
The hatred in his eyes was like a fire, searing and relentless.
It wasn’t just anger; it was pure, unfiltered loathing, born of years of conditioning and personal loss.
To him, I wasn’t a person. I was a monster, a symbol of everything he despised.
His words should’ve rolled off me, just another insult from a hunter who didn’t understand. But they didn’t.
They stuck, digging under my skin and festering. Not because they were true, but because a part of me wondered if they could be.
How many lives had I taken? How many people had I hurt in the name of survival?
And yet, even as those doubts flickered in the back of my mind, another thought burned brighter: Asher wasn’t dead.
I’d given him a second chance, a way to fight back in a world that would’ve let him die.
“You think you know everything, don’t you?” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “You think you’re the hero in this story, but you’re not. Look around. Half your team is dead.”
He flinched, just barely, but I caught it. A small crack in his armor.
The remaining hunters fanned out, trying to flank me, but I was faster.
With a blur of motion, I disarmed one, driving the barrel of his rifle into his chest.
He crumpled, gasping for air. The second raised a knife, but I caught his wrist and twisted until he screamed.
He dropped the blade, and I knocked him unconscious with a single blow.
Now it was just Declan and me. He didn’t lower his gun, his finger twitching over the trigger.
“Tell me where you buried him at least,” Declan demanded, his voice breaking. “His brother deserves to know.”
I stepped closer, ignoring the weapon aimed at my chest.
“And why would I tell you that?” I asked.
Declan’s hands shook, his mask of control cracking.
“You monster,” Declan whispered.
My fingers itched to end him right there.
One quick, decisive strike, and Declan would be silenced forever. No more accusations, no more pursuit, no more threats to Asher or me.
My instincts screamed for it, urging me to protect what was mine.
But then, Asher’s voice echoed in my memory. He’d told me once that Declan meant something to his brother.
And despite everything, I wasn’t ready to stain my hands with blood that could sever what little family Asher had left.
I opened my mouth to tell him to walk away, to leave this behind and never look back. But before I could, Declan moved.
The crack of a gunshot split the air, and pain exploded in my side. I staggered, clutching at the wound as blood seeped between my fingers.
Declan didn’t hesitate, his gun now aimed at my chest.
“You think I’d let you go that easily?” he growled, advancing with deliberate steps.
I gritted my teeth, the pain sharpening my focus. He wanted a fight? Fine. I’d give him one he’d never forget.
Declan fired another shot, but I dodged, the projectile grazing my shoulder as I lunged forward.
Closing the distance between us was key. He was deadly at range, but up close, he’d lose his advantage.
I reached him in a blur, slamming into him with enough force to send us both crashing to the ground.
His weapon clattered away, but Declan was no rookie.
He twisted beneath me, driving his knee into my injured side. Pain flared, white-hot and searing, and I hissed through clenched teeth.
He rolled free, drawing a silver blade from his belt. The blade gleamed under the moonlight as he swung it in a deadly arc.
I barely avoided the strike, the tip slicing through my shirt and skimming my ribs.
The scent of my own blood filled the air, mingling with the adrenaline-fueled haze of the fight.
Declan pressed the attack, his movements precise and unrelenting.
I blocked his strikes, deflecting the blade with my forearm before twisting his wrist and forcing the knife from his grasp.
It hit the ground with a dull thud, and for a moment, we grappled, each trying to gain the upper hand.
He headbutted me, the impact sending stars bursting across my vision.
I stumbled back, giving him enough space to deliver a brutal punch to my jaw.
My head snapped to the side, but I recovered quickly, catching his next strike and using his momentum against him.
I twisted, throwing him off balance and slamming him into the ground. He let out a pained grunt, but he wasn’t done.
His hand darted to his boot, pulling a smaller, concealed blade.
“Persistent, aren’t you?” I snarled, catching his wrist before he could drive it into my chest.
“Someone has to end you,” he spat, his face twisted with rage.
With a burst of strength, I wrenched the knife from his grip and tossed it aside. My hands closed around his throat, pinning him to the dirt.
Declan struggled beneath me, clawing at my hands, but I held firm.
His breaths came in ragged gasps, his defiance giving way to desperation. Finally, I eased my grip, letting him gasp for air.
He coughed violently, blood speckling his lips as he stared up at me. His expression was a mix of hatred and fear, but the fear was winning.
I could end it right now. One snap of his neck, one fatal strike, and this nightmare would be over.
But I didn’t.
“Do you really want to die here, Declan?” I asked, my voice low and cold.
He coughed again, glaring at me with bloodshot eyes. “You’ll… kill me either way.”
“No,” I said, leaning closer. “Not today. But if you come after me again, I’ll finish what I started. And if you push me, I’ll make sure Donovan is next.”
His eyes widened, the mention of Donovan shattering what remained of his bravado. Real fear flickered across his face, raw and unguarded.
“I promise,” Declan whispered, his voice trembling.
“You’d better,” I said, releasing him and rising to my feet.
He lay there, coughing and clutching his ribs, as I stepped back into the shadows.
I watched him for a moment longer, ensuring he wasn’t foolish enough to reach for a weapon again.
“This is your only warning, Declan,” I said. “Don’t make me regret letting you live.”
I moved quickly, my body protesting every step as the adrenaline began to wane. The wound in my side throbbed, a sharp reminder of the fight I’d just survived.
Declan was alive. For now.
I told myself it was the right call, sparing him for Asher’s sake. But as I made my way back to town, a nagging doubt crept in.
Would he heed my warning? Or had I just made a mistake that would come back to haunt me?