Chapter 47
The drive was a blur.
Riven couldn’t tell how much time had passed—minutes or hours, maybe days for all his fogged brain could process.
The road unspooled endlessly beneath the tires, washed in sodium-yellow light and the occasional streak of neon.
His body throbbed in time with his heartbeat, and every second that passed drained more from him than the last.
He nearly ran a red light—only the blare of a horn from a car already in the intersection jolted him awake, dragging his hands hard back to the wheel. He swerved slightly, vision doubling, breath rasping in his throat.
The car behind him honked again, this time at a dead stop. He’d drifted into a pause at a red light and simply…stopped existing. Just long enough for the world to slip sideways.
He blinked hard and pressed the gas.
The car inched forward. Street signs blurred. Street names meant nothing. All he knew was that he had to keep going.
But the warmth soaking his thigh was spreading, and not in a good way. The pain was dull now, no longer sharp and hot—it had gone hollow and cold, which worried him more. His fingers trembled on the wheel. His neck felt too weak to hold his head up.
He blinked again and for a second he wasn’t sure if he was awake. He let the car’s auto-nav gently course-correct him back onto the right path. His thoughts floated. What if he passed out? What if he crashed into something? What if he died in a car like this and no one ever knew what he learned?
The pull of sweet unconsciousness was almost a relief.
But he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, tasting blood.
Just a little further. Just a few more streets. He had to make it. Had to get to Thane. Had to make it worth something.
Even if he bled out in the driveway.
He blinked—and suddenly it was pre-dawn.
The world had shifted without him. The street stretched out before him, empty and hushed, dim light bleeding into the sky like a wound. He was still in the car, idling in the middle of the road, engine humming beneath him like a fading heartbeat.
So close. He could see the faint silhouette of the estate gates in the distance. Just a few blocks, maybe less. He’d almost made it.
Riven tried to clear his vision, but it was no use. Everything was gold and red and smeared. He blinked again and saw double. Triple.
He couldn’t drive like this.
With a breath that tasted like copper and fear, he shoved the door open and climbed out, nearly crumpling as his foot hit the pavement. He caught himself with both hands on the door frame, swaying.
Then he started walking.
Or limping. Or staggering. He wasn’t sure. Each step was a gamble. His leg throbbed in time with his pulse, slick warmth leaking down into his boot. The street tilted under him, or maybe that was just him listing sideways.
He didn’t know if he was going the right way—just that he had to move. That Thane was out there somewhere. That he had to reach him.
The thought of Thane pulled him forward. He followed it blindly.
The houses blurred by, unfamiliar and looming. He passed a streetlamp and had to lean against it, panting. He thought about stopping. Just for a moment. Just to lay down. It would be so easy. The pavement looked so flat, so still.
His leg buckled once. Then again. The third time, it gave way completely—and this time, he couldn’t stop it.
He pitched forward, caught himself against something cold and solid. Metal bars.
The gate?
He couldn’t tell.
A voice spoke near him, urgent and sharp, but it was muffled through the roaring in his ears, the tide of his own failing body rising up to drown him. He opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t find words. The pain was everywhere. So was the cold.
“Thane,” he slurred, barely audible.
That was all he could give before the darkness took him.