20 - The Hunter Becomes The Hunted

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Time slows to a crawl, cooped up in that dingy bar. With exposed brick walls and fairy lights strung up into a canopy and a wall of stained glass and ferns, it's not the worst place for a breakdown. At the moment, though, all I can focus on is my family out there somewhere. Way too close for comfort. Everything else is unimportant. They're rallying and they've found me and I was a fool for ever thinking I could stop running. Whatever drew me towards Crescent Valley, that desperate urge to find a home, conveniently forgot about the fact that Ferreus hunters stop at nothing to settle a grudge.

I killed Myles, and they're going to tear me apart for it. Morgan mentioned three hunters — Orion, Liliana and my mother, no doubt, cleaning up the mess I made — but they could've called for reinforcements.

I'm curled up in a booth in the far corner of the spacious bar, feeling sorry for myself and watching the blood dry on my hands. A pitiful excuse of a hunter, doubting his instincts and hiding from his family with a bunch of werewolves.

Morgan has decided I'm not a threat, and she's turned her rage onto Beau, who won't stay still whilst she tries fixing up the gaping hole in his leg with limited supplies, or at the very least cover it up until it can heal properly. She's forced him to sit at a bar stool but he keeps hailing Lachlan to pour him a commemorative shot.

Lachlan merely sends him a light glare over his shoulder. He's stood like a bouncer at Rowan's side, arms crossed, close to the fire exit. They murmur softly to one another and listen out for any approaching Duskland werewolves or hunters. Every now and then, they'll glance at me.

I assume I'm the leading topic of conversation.

Rowan comes wandering over, soon enough. Without a word, he falls onto the booth seat opposite, his finger tracing a knot in the wooden table. I feel his gaze on me, his intrigue hanging like a fog over the table, but he stays quiet. Musing.

I sigh heavily and look up at him. "What?"

"What will you do?" he asks, his eyes holding an intensity I can hardly look at; a blazing sun of focus. "I know today's been... tough. What, with my bombshell this morning and the mess with Duskland and now this. I just... I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to leave, but I think numbers are your best bet. We're halfway decent at hiding from hunters because we've learnt to be, and I'd like you to stay with us until the threat's gone."

"They're not going anywhere as long as I'm here," I counter, my voice holding a harsh bite to it. With an effort, I soften my hackles and break his gaze and I say, "I never meant to lead them to you. It... it's not a trick, or an elaborate plan to get you to trust me, I promise. I just... I wanted to get away from this life, and it's caught up to me. It'll always catch up to me. You don't have to help me out of my own mess, this time. I got myself into it, and I'll get myself out of it again."

"I'm sure the whole point of an alliance is for things to go both ways," Rowan reminds me. "You'll learn it soon enough, River, but werewolves are incredibly loyal. Beau's actually right for once— your mess is our mess, now. You're one of us until you decide otherwise, and we protect our own."

A charge lurks beneath his words; one that explodes like streams of electric bubbles across my skin and burns my cheeks and turns all thoughts to ashes. It's a new, strange sensation, to feel so... exposed in a pleasant sort of way. Like his gaze is fire and I'm feeling the heat of his attention on my skin.

I look into his liquid bronze eyes and I want to explain why my family are hunting me. I want him to assure me everything will be alright and that he's not going anywhere. I need it. I need to know he's not going to turn on me like my family did. I thought I could trust them, and they killed Esme. Ever since then, I've been spinning uncontrollably from one moment to the next, never knowing if I'm going to be safe. I want, more than anything, for him to tell me I'll be safe— and I want to believe him.

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