Carys
Brevan didn't wait for me to respond. He swept me up—one arm under my knees, the other behind my back—and ran.
The guards were screaming behind us, trapped on the other side of the ravine. They'd find another way around. Twenty minutes if we were lucky. Less if they were smart.
“I can run,” I said against his shoulder.
“Not barefoot on this terrain.” His voice was calm. Matter-of-fact. “And we need speed.”
He was right. My feet were already cut from the bridge. The ground ahead was all sharp rocks and thorns. I'd only slow us down.
So I held on.
He ran like I weighed nothing. Vinduthi strength. Inhuman speed. The landscape blurred past us—rocks, ravines, scattered vegetation. His breathing stayed even. His grip stayed secure.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Away from their search grid. They'll establish a perimeter. We need to be outside it before it forms.”
Flinx’s claws dug into my shoulder, his weight a familiar, steady anchor as we moved. His eyes were dim, conserving power after his battle with the villa's systems.
he warned.
“Down,” Brevan said.
He dropped into a cluster of boulders, pressing us both into shadow. A patrol craft roared overhead, searchlights sweeping. The lights passed over our hiding spot. Missed us by meters.
The craft continued on.
“They're not searching efficiently yet,” Brevan said. “Still reacting. Once they organize, this gets harder.”
“Can you keep carrying me?”
He looked down at me, something almost amused in his red eyes. “I could carry you for days. The question is whether we can avoid detection while I do.”
He started running again. This time staying lower, using the terrain for cover. We moved through a maze of rock formations, natural passages barely wide enough for his shoulders.
Ten minutes. Fifteen. The voices of ground patrols echoed in the distance, but fading.
Then Flinx tensed.
Brevan froze. “What kind?”
“The stream,” I said, remembering the sound of water I'd heard earlier. “Water masks thermal signatures.”
Brevan turned toward the sound. The stream ran through a shallow gorge. Without hesitation, he waded in, still carrying me. The water was ice cold, soaking us both immediately.
He moved upstream, staying in the water. The current fought against him but he pushed through like it was nothing.
Flinx reported.
We stayed in the stream another five minutes before Brevan finally climbed out on the opposite bank. We were both soaked, freezing, but undetected.
“You're shivering,” he said.
“So are you.”
“I run hotter than humans. I'll be fine.” He looked around, evaluating. “We need shelter. You need warmth.”
He found it twenty meters into the forest. A massive tree had fallen years ago, its root system creating a natural cave. Brevan set me down inside, then immediately pulled off his soaked jacket.
“The Regalia—” I started.
“Is waterproof.” He showed me the sealed inner pocket before setting the jacket aside. “Skin to skin is the fastest way to share heat.”
He pulled me against his chest. His skin was incredibly warm, almost fever-hot.
“Better?” he asked after a moment.
“Getting there.” The violent shivering was easing. “How long can we stay?”
“Not long. Maybe an hour. They'll expand their search pattern.”
I pressed closer to his warmth. “Brevan?”
“Yeah?”
“You could have left me. Moved faster alone. Gotten the Regalia to safety.”
His arms tightened around me. “No, I couldn't have.”
“The mission—”
“The mission is meaningless without you.” His voice was rough. “I realized that on the bridge. When you jumped. When you chose me over him.”
“I chose freedom.”
“You chose to trust me with your freedom. That's more than I had any right to expect.”
Voices in the distance. Getting closer.
“They're sweeping this sector,” he said. “We need to move.”
We dressed in our wet clothes. Miserable but necessary. He lifted me again.
“I hate this,” I said. “Being helpless.”
“You're not helpless. You're injured and adapting.” He started moving again, deeper into the forest. “There's a difference between needing help and being helpless.”
He ran for another hour. Changing directions whenever Flinx warned of patrols. Using water to break our trail. Doubling back to confuse tracking.
Finally, he stopped in another cave. This one deeper, more protected.
“We'll rest here,” he said, setting me down. “They've pulled back to regroup. We have maybe two hours before they resume.”
Two hours. It felt like a lifetime.
I looked at him. Really looked. Gray skin marked with gold traceries. Red eyes that had gone from cold assessment to something warmer. He'd been carrying me for over an hour through hostile terrain, and he wasn't even breathing hard.
“What?” he asked.
“You really could carry me for days.”
“Yes.”
“That should terrify me. That kind of strength.”
“Does it?”
“No.” I touched his face. Felt the slight roughness of his skin. “It makes me feel safe. For the first time in six years.”
He caught my hand. Pressed it against his cheek. “You are safe. I won't let them take you back.”
“I know.”
We sat in silence for a moment. Then I asked, “What happens when they catch up?”
“They won't.”
“But if they do?”
He looked at me. Something dark and certain in his eyes. “Then I kill them all.”