Chapter 5 Avilyna
Avilyna
THIS TRUTH
My boots crunch over the gravel as I sprint to my dad’s side, panic flooding every step. My own pain and injuries are completely forgotten. Dropping on the porch steps, I ease him down as gently as I can. He is pale and bleeding.
There’s so much blood.
The metallic scent hits me hard, thick in the back of my throat. It makes my head spin, my vision blur, but I force myself to stay focused. His wound won’t heal itself. My hands are pressing down hard, but it’s not enough.
It’s not working.
My mind scrambles for anything useful, anything at all.
“I’ll call 911!” I barely stand to get my phone.
“No.” My dad’s voice is breathless, strained, but sharp enough to freeze me.
“I’ll be quick—”
“I said no!” His grip clamps around my wrist, surprisingly strong despite how weak he looks.
“Lyna,” he says, forcing my name through clenched teeth. “Listen. I don’t have much time.”
I open my mouth to argue, to beg, but the look in his eyes silences me.
It’s final.
The kind of look that makes you listen.
“There’s a strong chance I won’t make it.
” My dad’s breath hitches. “You know it. I know it. My organs are…” My dad trails off, glancing down, his lips twitching in a bitter half-smile.
“Not where they should be.” Tears prick my eyes.
My heart screams at me to do something, but then his voice lowers and the words that follow gut me.
“I tried to protect you. That was your mother’s dying wish.” His eyes glisten, and there’s a softness in them that breaks me further. “God, I loved that woman. But, even if I wished for it with every part of me… It’s not true.”
“What’s not true?” I ask, barely a whisper.
“I’m not your father, Lyna.”
The world tilts.
Confusion tightens around me in a vice. My thoughts tumble out of reach, the air caught somewhere between denial and disbelief. But his voice anchors me.
“Don’t you dare think I didn’t love you,” he says, gripping my hand. “In my eyes, you’re my daughter. My only child, and you’ll always be. And if there’s one thing I did right in this goddamn life… It was to become your father.”
The tears fall freely now, hot and blinding. My brain can’t keep up; it’s too much—this night.
This truth.
It’s all unravelling faster than I can keep up with.
“Listen to me,” he breathes, voice strained but urgent.
“You can’t trust anyone. Your parents were betrayed, and you’re the last one left.
That’s why we hid you. Why we moved,” he’s interrupted by a fit of wet cough.
But I only have time to lean with my hand on his chest before he continues.
“Your family had enemies, powerful ones. Only Ruby knows about you...”
My dad’s warning cuts off as the sound of tires crunching up the unfinished road shatters the moment.
A black SUV pulls into view, parking behind my Jeep.
Panic flashes across my dad’s face before he hurries to add, gripping my hand.
“Do as they say, but don’t tell them I’m not your real father,” he whispers harshly, tightening his hold.
“What? I don’t understand… What’s happening?” I whisper back, my voice trembling with confusion. My dad exhales a shaky breath, but when his eyes meet mine, I see sorrow swimming in them.
“I know, Pickle. I’m sorry. I wish we had more time.
” That nickname, it rips something open in me.
The tears come faster, hot and uncontrollable, slipping down my cheeks like a dam breaking.
“You can’t trust them,” he repeats, the words catching in his throat.
“But you have to blend in. Stay alive, Lyna. Stay—” His voice breaks, flooded by a violent cough, blood spilling from his lips.
“Dad!” I gasp, clutching at him as his hold loosens. He slumps down, eyes rolling back, and then his body goes still.
“DAD!”
I don’t even get to catch my breath before two strong arms wrap around me, lifting me off the ground like I weigh nothing. Fighting them off, heart hammering, I only stop when I see them.
Eyes of a cold, vivid shade of blue that sparks something.
Something familiar.
Only once we are back a couple of steps does he let go of me.
“Where is it?” The voice is deep, calm, and commanding. Cut from stone. His face is mostly hidden behind a black tactical mask. The authority in his voice makes it clear that he’s used to being obeyed.
“Where’s what?” I snap back, my voice hoarse and scraped raw.
“The norous,” he replies flatly, as if it’s obvious. Like I should know exactly what that means. Then, more dryly, “the tall black thing that looks like Slenderman had a baby with a Strigoi.”
I blink.
Did this asshole seriously just mansplain to me...?
His eyes drag all over me, cold and calculating, dripping with condescension.
He’s a towering figure, easily over six feet, with a strong, lean physique that speaks of someone who trains just for the thrill of it.
His presence radiates confidence, suggesting he’s always the most dangerous person in the room.
And that only makes my anger burn hotter.
“Listen, you arrogant prick,” I say, taking a step toward him. “I’ve just been attacked by a monster, my dad’s bleeding out, so be useful and stop wasting my time with stupid questions.” I snap, closing the distance between us until we're chest to chest despite the obvious height difference.
Not caring that my mascara has run or that my tights are torn up. His blond brows lift slightly, clearly amused. The corners of his eyes crinkle, smirking behind that stupid mask. I want to make him choke on his smug reaction.
“Well, well,” he drawls, “I didn't expect the claws. Cute.” His tone drops again, serious. “Now, where is the demon?”
“I don’t fucking know! It disappeared.”
His expression hardens. “What do you mean by disappeared? Did someone perform a saoi-diabhal?”
“A what now?”
It’s his turn to look thrown off. His brows draw together, his entire body stills, like I just told him water isn’t wet.
“An exorcist,” he clarifies, slower this time.
“Well, unless you’re calling shooting it in the face an exorcism, then no. Don’t think so.” Before he can reply, a woman appears at his side, seemingly out of nowhere. She’s petite, deadly looking, with a sharp blonde pixie cut and…
Wait.
Are those pointed ears?
I stare.
What the actual hell is going on?
“Brackwell, we’re ready to go,” she says, her voice calm but commanding. Then, turns to me and adds, “Avilyna, right?” She approaches slowly, hand raised.
I take a cautious step back, “What are you?”
“I’m an elf,” she declares matter-of-factly, letting her hand fall. “I’m… an old friend of your father. We served together in the Legion.”
“Ah, what?” My voice is edged with disbelief.
“An elf,” she repeats, her tone patient but firm. “I see your father never brought you through the veil.”
“Do I look like I’ve been through the veil?” I snap, frustration bubbling up.
She sighs, “I know this is overwhelming, but it is very real. The creature that attacked Theo is a demon. Unfortunately, the remedies we have on hand won’t work…
his condition is too precarious. We must transport him to the Institute while he still has a chance.
” The elf stops talking, giving me a small reprieve to barely acclimate to all this.
“Kai, give her the elixir, just in case,” she instructs. The masked figure nods, stepping forward with a vial. Could she be the person my dad was speaking to on the phone?
Is this connected to my nightmares?
“I’m going to take your father to the Institute,” she continues. “Kai will stay with you so you can gather your essentials before joining us. We don’t know how long it will take for your father to heal, and it’s not safe for you to stay here. Norous travel in packs.”
She places a hand on my forearm, her touch surprisingly gentle. “I know this is a lot. But we need to move quickly.”
“Wait,” I protest, stepping away from her touch. “Who are you people? What’s the Institute? My dad needs to go to the hospital! Now!”
The Kai guy speaks up, his tone sharp. “Your father can’t be treated by mundanes. It would be a waste of time. He needs the aid of real healers.”
“Kai is correct,” the woman agrees. “To address your other question, I’m Isolde, the Sergeant of this regiment. However, we’re pressed for time; your father requires immediate assistance. Corporal Brackwell will answer all your questions while he assists you.”
“You have one hour before this place is swarming with demons,” Isolde declares, urgency creeping into her voice. She turns away, joining two other figures dressed in identical black gear. Together, they guide my dad toward the back of the SUV, his body limp between them.
Isolde slides into the driver’s seat, her voice steady and commanding as she calls out, “Let’s go. We’re running out of time.” Without a pause, the others climb in, and the vehicle disappears into the night.
My gaze locks with an unreadable steel-blue that glares back at me.
“It’s just you and me now, Princess. Let’s move,” my insufferable escort announces, already striding toward the house like he owns the place.
“Don’t call me that,” I snap, quickening my pace to catch up, but now that the moment has stilled, I feel every scratch and bruise. “What do I even need? And how long am I supposed to stay there?” Without bothering to look at me, he tosses the reply over his shoulder.
“The essentials. As for how long? Could be a day, could be forever.” Kai throws me a wink like this is all some kind of game. I roll my eyes so hard it hurts.
The house is eerily quiet, but the destruction screams louder than any words.
The front door hangs crooked on its hinges.
The entryway looks like a war zone, with splintered wood, broken glass, and deep claw marks carving the floorboards.
This was my home, my safe place. Now it looks like something out of a horror film.