Chapter 7 #2
But wrapped in his arms, carried through mountain wilderness by someone who pulled me from fire and asked nothing in return, I can’t summon the fear I should feel.
I drift, lulled by rhythm and heat, until K stops abruptly.
“There,” he says quietly.
I force my eyes open, blinking against sudden brightness.
Below us, the valley spreads out in shades of gray and green. And there, near the base of the slope, spilling over the mouth of what looks like a chasm—
The crash site.
My blood turns to ice.
Not because of the wreckage, twisted metal still visible among scorched trees.
Because of the people swarming over it.
Tactical gear. Precise movements. Armed.
Not rescue crews. Not civilian recovery teams.
Syndicate.
K shifts his weight, angling for a better view. “They can help—”
“No!” I grab his arm, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. “Not them. K, not them.”
He freezes, looking down at me. Reading the terror in my face.
“You know these people?”
I can’t answer. How do I explain that those aren’t rescuers, they’re hunters? That they’re connected to a world I’ve sworn to hide from the public eye? That getting close to them would put both of us in danger I can’t even name?
“They’re dangerous,” I manage, my voice cracking. “K, please. We need to hide.”
For one horrible second, I think he’ll demand answers. Press for details I can’t give.
Instead, he nods once and moves us behind a massive pine, setting me down carefully in the shadow of its trunk. His hands linger on my arms—steadying, protective.
“Stay low,” he says quietly.
Then he positions himself between me and the valley below.
The change is instantaneous. Absolute.
The gentle protector disappears. In his place—someone harder. Colder. A warrior assessing a battlefield.
He scans the crash site; systematic, precise. Not panicked. Clinical. His eyes track movement patterns, taking in positions and angles with unsettling efficiency.
“Eight,” he murmurs. “No… nine. Two at the perimeter. Third circling west.”
His voice has changed. Clipped. Professional. Like he’s done this a thousand times before.
I stare at him. This isn’t survival instinct. This is training. Military assessment from someone who’s commanded troops, even if he doesn’t remember.
Who are you, K?
“Armed. Moving in search pattern. Coordinated.” He tilts his head, listening to something I can’t hear. “Professional.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. “Can they see us?”
“No. We are upwind. In shadow. They look for bodies, not witnesses.” His gaze never leaves the valley. “But they are thorough. They will expand the perimeter.”
The certainty in his voice should comfort me. Instead, it adds another layer to the mystery.
This man, who doesn’t know his own name, just gave a strategic breakdown like a trained operative.
What did you do, K? Before you woke up here?
Movement below catches my eye. One of the operatives speaks into a radio. I strain to hear, but the distance is too great.
Then the wind shifts.
“—crash site secure. No additional survivors located.”
My breath stops.
Another voice, crackling through static: “Wreckage confirms three passengers. Two captured. One unaccounted for.”
My breath catches.
Two captured.
Luke. Ember.
Are they alive? Dead? Locked up somewhere?
The operative continues: “Continuing sweep pattern. Will report findings.”
K’s hand finds my shoulder. Warm. Steady. A silent question: Are you alright?
I nod automatically, lying.
Because I’m not alright. Luke and Ember are in trouble. And the Syndicate is hunting me. And I’ve dragged this strange, kind man into the middle of it without warning. Without permission.
K goes very still beside me. I glance at him, then pause to pay closer attention.
Something’s off.
His head tilts, pupils dilating until only a thin ring of gold remains. His breathing changes—deeper, slower, like an animal scenting prey. Or danger.
“K?” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer. His hand presses against his chest, fingers curling into fabric. Every muscle in his body tenses like he’s bracing against something invisible.
Then his eyes snap back into focus, and he staggers slightly, catching himself against the tree.
I grab his arm. “What’s wrong?”
“I—” He presses harder against his chest, like something inside him pulled taut. “I felt something. A pull. Like—” He struggles for words, frustration clear on his face. “Like something needed answering. Far away. But… urgent.”
“Answering what?”
“I do not know.” He looks down at his hand like it belongs to someone else. “But my body responded. Heat. Purpose. Then it faded.”
Unease crawls down my spine. Another impossible thing. Another mystery with no explanation.
Below, an operative turns. Scanning the tree line.
K moves.
Not away—over me.
His body covers mine completely, one hand cradling my skull, the other braced against the tree. His chest presses against my back, his weight pinning me to the earth. Heat radiates from him, and I can feel his heartbeat against my spine—still too slow, still impossible.
“Don’t move,” he murmurs against my ear. “Don’t breathe.”
I couldn’t if I wanted to. Every nerve ending is screaming—not from fear of the Syndicate operative, but from K’s weight covering me, the way his fingers thread gently into my hair while the rest of him is pure coiled threat.
The operative’s gaze sweeps the slope. Passes over us. Hesitates.
K’s breath is warm against my neck. His body is utterly still, but I can feel the tension in him.
Seconds stretch endlessly.
Finally, the operative turns away. “Nothing. Probably just wildlife.”
Another voice crackles: “Pack it up. Command wants us back.”
K doesn’t move. Not immediately. Like he’s forgotten he’s still covering me. Or like some part of him doesn’t want to let go.
His thumb brushes the side of my neck—just once, so brief I might have imagined it.
Then he shifts his weight and lifts himself off me, moving back into a crouch.
I stay pressed against the earth, trying to remember how to breathe normally. My skin burns where he touched me. My pulse pounds in my throat.
What the hell was that?
K watches the operatives pack up, his expression unreadable. When the last vehicle disappears around the far ridge, he finally turns to me.
“We go,” he says quietly. “Different direction. Away from them.”
I nod, throat too tight for words.
He reaches for me, and I let him lift me without protest. But this time… this time I’m even more painfully aware of every point of contact.
He carries me back up the slope, away from the crash site and the Syndicate and whatever answers might have been there.
K doesn’t speak as he navigates a different path. Higher elevation. Rougher terrain. But away from the Syndicate patrols.
He moves too quietly. His feet find purchase on loose scree without hesitation, like he can sense where the stone will hold. Branches don’t catch on his clothes. He flows through the forest like he’s part of it, and I wonder—not for the first time—what he was before he woke up here with no memory.
A soldier. A hunter. Something.
My mind won’t stop racing.
I should tell K. Explain what he’s stepped into. Warn him about the world I’m part of—the dangerous, impossible world of dragons and magic and ancient conflicts that have nothing to do with him.
But how? Without breaking every promise I’ve made. Without exposing the very people I promised to protect. Elena. Caleb. All the others. The world can’t know about them.
We reach a small clearing, sheltered by pines. K sets me down gently against a sun-warmed boulder.
He doesn’t ask questions. Just scans our surroundings, ensuring we’re alone and safe. His movements are precise, methodical. Professional.
Finally, he turns to me. “Those people. They hunt you?”
The question is direct. Simple.
I want to give him a simple answer.
“They’re—” I stop, pinching my lips together. “I don’t know.” I’m lying, but what choice do I have? “I’m so sorry. You don’t need to stick around me if—”
“No.” His voice is firm but gentle. He kneels in front of me, meeting my eyes. “I chose to pull you from the fire. I choose to keep you safe. You did not force this.”
“You’re not worried?”
“Of course not.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You are in danger. That is enough.”
The sun climbs higher, warming stone and skin. Below us, the valley holds secrets I can’t speak of. Luke and Ember, somewhere out there. The Syndicate, hunting. And K, pulled into a nightmare he doesn’t understand because I couldn’t die like I was supposed to.
Guilt settles heavy in my chest.
“We should move higher,” K says eventually. “Put more distance between us and their search pattern.”
“Yeah.” I swallow against the tightness in my throat. “Okay.”
He reaches for me, and I let him lift me again. Let his warmth chase away the cold fear.
His arms settle around me, and for just a moment, I let myself sink into it.
Let myself pretend this isn’t temporary.
That I’m not putting him in danger just by existing near him.
That when this is over—when we reach civilization, and he remembers who he is—he won’t hate me for dragging him into a war that isn’t his.
But the pretending only lasts a heartbeat.
Because the truth is, I’ve already cost him too much. His safety. His anonymity. Maybe his life, if the Syndicate finds us.
And he doesn’t even know it yet.