Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
DONOVAN
Declan’s call still rang in my ears. His ragged breathing. The raw, quiet panic in his voice. Declan’s call came just minutes after I called Tom.
Too soon to be a coincidence. Maybe fate was on my side for once.
Now, I was out the door, moving fast, my heart hammering as I made my way to the garage.
The weight of my backpack pressed against my shoulders, filled with weapons, supplies. Anything I might need.
Because I had no idea what I was walking into. Only that I had to get to Declan. I was almost there when I heard footsteps behind me.
“Are you following me?” I asked without looking back.
A familiar voice answered. “Just worried about you.”
Kit.
His voice stopped me cold. I turned, finding him standing a few feet away, arms crossed, brow furrowed.
His gaze flicked to the bulky backpack slung over my shoulder, sharp and suspicious.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
I forced my expression into something neutral. “Taking a break.” My voice was even, casual. “Cleared it with the Elders.”
Kit snorted. “You and I both know applying for time off isn’t that simple.”
I shrugged, shifting the strap of my backpack. “Guess I got lucky,” I told him.
Kit didn’t look convinced.
He didn’t press either, but his stare drilled into me, his usual easygoing expression replaced by something wary, uncertain.
I held his gaze, trying to project confidence, but inside, my heart was hammering. I didn’t have time for this.
Kit exhaled softly, shaking his head. “Why do I have a feeling this is the last conversation we’ll ever have?”
It was meant to be a joke. It wasn’t.
Something in his voice, low, almost resigned, made my stomach twist. For the first time, my grip on my bag tightened.
He wasn’t wrong.
I didn’t know what I was walking into. I didn’t even know what I’d do when I found Declan.
If he was still… if there was still something left to save. The thought made my breath hitch.
I swallowed it down and forced a smirk. “Don’t be dramatic.”
Kit just studied me, eyes sharp, reading me too well.
I hesitated. A second too long.
“I’ll be back,” I said finally. A lie.
Kit knew it. I could see it in the way his jaw clenched, the way his lips parted like he wanted to say something. Stop me, maybe.
But he didn’t. He just nodded.
“Take care of yourself,” I added, turning on my heel before I could change my mind.
I heard him inhale like he was going to call me back, ask me again where I was really going.
I didn’t give him the chance. I walked away, toward my bike and I didn’t look back.
The night air was frigid, the cold biting through my jacket as I sped down the road, my motorcycle roaring beneath me.
The city lights blurred behind me, swallowed by the dark expanse of the open road. I barely noticed.
My focus was ahead, toward the private airstrip, toward the man who had just called me with terror in his voice.
I replayed my last conversation with Declan over and over in my head, the words cutting into me like a blade.
"If I lose control, I need you to end it."
The sentence twisted inside me, an ugly, festering thing.
Declan had never talked like that. Not once. Not in all the years I had known him.
Declan was a survivor. He was strong, relentless, unshakable. Someone I admired as a hunter, as a fighter,
I clenched my jaw. On that call, he had sounded… broken. There had been raw fear in his voice. And that scared the hell out of me.
Wind whipped against me as I pushed the throttle harder, the engine growling in protest, but I didn’t care.
Every second I wasted was a second closer to losing him. I wouldn’t lose him.
Declan was wrong. If he thought I had come all this way just to put him down, he was dead wrong.
I wasn’t a planner. I never had been. I didn’t have a strategy for what came next. I didn’t need one.
All I knew was that I had to see him. And I wasn’t going to let him die. Not like this.
The private airstrip loomed ahead, floodlights cutting through the night. My tires screeched as I pulled up, gravel crunching beneath the wheels.
The second I cut the engine, I jumped off, not bothering to take off my helmet before striding toward the waiting jet.
Tom was already there, standing by the open door, arms crossed, looking me up and down. His expression was half amusement, half concern.
“You look like hell,” he said.
I yanked off my helmet and tossed it onto the tarmac. “Just get me in the air.”
Tom let out a low whistle. “Must be important.”
I didn’t answer. It was.
Something in my face must’ve told him not to push. He exhaled, nodding toward the jet. “Fine. Hop in. We leave now.”
No hesitation. No delays.
Because there was no time to waste. Declan needed me. And I was coming for him.
I kept checking my phone. Declan’s location hadn’t changed in the last nine hours.
That fact both consoled and terrified me.
If Declan hadn’t moved, then maybe he was still alive. Maybe he had found shelter, maybe he was just waiting. Hoping.
Maybe he was fighting whatever battle was raging inside him, holding on with everything he had. But the what-ifs clawed at my mind, refusing to let go.
What if something else had found Declan first? Some other monster lurking in the shadows, drawn by the scent of blood, deciding Declan would make for an easy meal?
What if he was too weak to fight back? What if he’d already lost?
Or worse, what if he had passed out somewhere unprotected, in a place where the sun could cut through and burn him alive?
The thought made my stomach turn violently.
I pushed the throttle of my thoughts forward, shoving past the worst-case scenarios. I didn’t have time for fear. I didn’t have time for hesitation.
I just had to get to him. Before it was too late.
I had landed hours ago, stepping off a private airstrip in the middle of nowhere, the winter wind biting through my jacket.
There had been no cabs, no buses, just an old couple pulling up in a rusted pickup, kind enough to offer me a ride into town.
From there, I had hitched another ride, paid in cash, no questions asked. Now, I walked the last stretch.
The road stretched empty before me, an endless path of cracked pavement and frost-covered fields.
Nothing but desolation on either side. The wind howled, sending shivers racing down my spine.
I checked my phone again. Not far now. Just a few miles.
A familiar sense of urgency clawed at my chest, burning through my veins. I didn’t hesitate. I ran.
My backpack bounced against me with every step, my boots crunching against frozen earth, but I didn’t slow down. Couldn’t slow down.
Then, in the distance, I saw it.
The abandoned barn.
The location marker on my phone pointed directly to it.
I skidded to a stop, my breath ragged, unease curling in my gut.
Something felt wrong.
The barn stood silent, its wooden beams warped with age, the doors slightly ajar. No footprints. No movement.
Carefully, I reached for the knives strapped to my body, making sure they were within reach. Never hurt to be careful.
Then, without another second of hesitation, I pushed the doors open.
The second I stepped into that barn, the stench of rotting bodies nearly knocked me back.
Death. It clung to the air, thick and suffocating, curling around my throat like a noose.
My grip on my gun tightened instinctively, my other hand brushing against the handle of my knife.
I scanned the barn, my heart pounding against my ribs.
Corpses littered the ground. All looked fresh. I recognized the telltale signs immediately. Vampire kills.
Declan.
Panic surged through me like wildfire. My stomach twisted violently as my eyes darted across the carnage, searching for him, dreading what I’d find.
What if I was too late?
Then I saw him. Lying a few feet away, half in the shadows. For one sickening second, my body refused to move, fear locking up my limbs.
Then instinct took over.
I ran.
I dropped to my knees beside him, barely registering the way my jeans soaked up the blood pooling beneath us.
My hands hovered over his chest, over his face. I was afraid to touch him, afraid I’d find him cold.
“Declan.” My voice cracked. No response.
His skin was deathly pale, but I could see the slow, shallow rise and fall of his chest.
Alive.
Barely.
I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat, forcing myself to focus. He was breathing, but for how much longer?
“Come on, Declan,” I muttered, shaking him lightly.
His head lolled to the side, exposing the deep, jagged bite wound on his neck.
My blood ran ice cold. The wound was fresh.
I exhaled sharply, trying to steady my shaking hands as I pressed my fingers to his throat, feeling for a pulse. It was there, but weak.
My mind raced. He needed blood. He needed help.
And he needed it now.
I slid my arms beneath him, preparing to lift him when he suddenly let out a low, pained sound. His eyelids fluttered, his breath hitching.
His eyes cracked open just enough to meet mine.
A flicker of recognition.
“Donovan…?” His voice was nothing but a whisper, raw and barely there.
Relief crashed into me, so sharp and overwhelming I nearly sank to the ground myself.
“Yeah, it’s me,” I said, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “I’m here.”
His brow furrowed, as if trying to piece together if this was real or some hallucination.
His lips parted slightly, but no more words came. His body went limp against me again.
I clenched my jaw.
“Don’t you dare,” I muttered, hoisting him up into my arms.
He groaned weakly, his fingers twitching against my jacket, but he didn’t fight me.
Good. That meant he was still holding on.
I forced my legs to move, ignoring the burn in my muscles as I carried him out of the barn.
The icy wind slammed into us the second we stepped outside, cutting through my jacket like a blade. I barely felt it.
All that mattered was getting Declan out of here. Somehow, some way, I was going to save him. I wasn’t letting him die.