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Ruslan’s brow furrows. “My spare knife.”
“That’ll do.” I’d prefer a gun, but it’s better than nothing.
He reaches into his glove box, pulls out a hunting knife, and hands it to me.
I suck in a deep breath. “Drop me off at a location where they can’t see you.”
“Are you sure, Mrs. Volkov?”
“It’s the only way to protect you and Rai. Please leave before he catches you, or all of you will be in danger.”
He gives a curt nod and accelerates, taking a swift turn toward the forest. Gravel and dirt crunch under the car’s tires, and then it comes to a halt.
“Thank Rai on my behalf,” I say and dash out of the car with the knife nestled in my palm.
Darkness has staked its claim on the forest, making it eerily quiet with the occasional haunting sounds coming from the night owls. The tall trees shape the distance and everything looks black, aside from the moon shining above, partially camouflaged by clouds.
I don’t think as I run in the opposite direction to Ruslan. I barely see a path in the forest and I follow it, all my fears about the unknown vanishing in the background.
“Lia!” The very familiar voice bellows from not too far behind me, sending tendrils of fear down to my soul.
Run.
I have to run.
My heart thumps harder, slamming against my ribcage as I charge through the forest.
“Lia, stop!”
No!
If I do, everything will be over. This time, I won’t be able to survive his wrath and I will splinter into irredeemable pieces.
This time, it’ll be the end.
“Lia!” His voice is nearer, moving in closer, as if he’s pulling me back by the marionette strings attached to my nape.
The knife is heavy in my hand as I slice it through branches and anything else that gets in my way.
A rustling of footsteps comes from behind me and I halt, spinning around and waving the knife. I gasp when it hits a warm body.
Adrian.
He barely winces as I release the knife, letting it fall to the ground, but the damage is already done. The blade has penetrated his bicep. Under the moonlight, I can make out the blood dripping from his jacket. His face is shadowed by both the darkness and the anger that’s tightening his jaw.
Something tells me it’s not because of the wound.
That’s all I can focus on, though.
The injury.
His life essence oozes out of his bicep in a steady rhythm. I wrap both hands around it and squeeze, willing it to stop.
However, blood slips between my fingers, coating them, warm and almost black in the darkness as it drips to the ground.
“You need to make it stop.” My voice is a haunted murmur.
“What about you? Are you ever going to stop escaping me?”
