Draven laid Adriana gently on the creaking wooden bed, his arms surprisingly careful for someone with a presence like a blade. Jasmine hovered nearby, fingers fumbling with the duvet as she struggled to pull it over her friend's unconscious body. The fabric twisted in her hands, just like the knot tightening in her chest.
She couldn't understand him not really, the lad was confusing. She was sure why he was helping them.
His steps shifted, boots dragging lightly on the wooden floor as he turned to leave. The door groaned faintly on its hinges behind him. Jasmine instinctively stepped aside, pressing herself against the wall like he carried a storm in his shadow. Her heart stammered, unsure whether to beat in fear or confusion.
Then he paused and turned towards her. His voice cut through the quiet like a jagged shard of glass.
"You owe me for this."
Jasmine's eyes flicked up to meet his. His stare was flat and unreadable, but something dangerous simmered behind it, definitely not kindness.
"And don't think I'm helping because I'm a good Samaritan," he added, his tone low, edged with something cruelly honest. "Believe me… you'll wish I never did."
A shiver wracked her spine as he turned again and disappeared into the hallway, the sound of the closing door ringing in her ears like a slammed verdict.
Only then did she realize she'd been holding her breath. She exhaled sharply, shoulders sagging, her pulse hammering in her throat.
He was terrifying, every word all felt like standing too close to a fire you knew could leap and consume you at any second. But… he hadn't hurt them.
That confused her more than anything.
She moved toward the bed, brushing Adriana's damp hair back from her forehead. "You're going to be okay," she whispered, though she wasn't entirely sure who she was trying to comfort Adriana or herself.
Her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted the edge of the duvet once more, tucking it around her friend.
Draven's voice still echoed in her head. You'll wish I never helped.
Jasmine swallowed, eyes flicking toward the door.
Whatever that meant… she had a sinking feeling it wasn't just a threat.
Jasmine jolted awake, her heart thudding hard against her ribs. The air in the room was heavy and stale with the scent of old wood. She blinked, confused by what had woken her.
The room was still, save for the soft rise and fall of Adriana's chest beneath the duvet. But outside… A shuffling sound. It was low and Intentional, like boots trying not to echo.
She sat up slowly, her skin prickling. The inn had been deathly quiet earlier when the cashier led them in, almost like it hadn't seen visitors in weeks. But now… something had shifted. A hush filled the air. Her stomach clenched.
What if it's the guards? What if they've found us?
She glanced toward Adriana, still motionless and breathing soft and steady. Jasmine hesitated for a moment, but then slipped off the bed and padded to the door, every floorboard a landmine she carefully avoided. With a glance back at her Adrianaa she gently pulled the door shut and turned the key to lock it behind her.
The corridor outside was dim and empty. Old lanterns cast shadows that danced like ghosts along the peeling walls.
Did I imagine that noise?
She took a step forward. Her joints ached, her skin felt raw and itchy like she'd brushed against nettles, and her throat was so dry it hurt. She needed water desperately. Maybe the cashier could help.
She descended the creaky staircase with cautious steps, one hand brushing the splintered rail. As she reached the halfway landing, her senses blared with alarm but too late.
A hand shot out from the side and yanked her into a room. She gasped about to scream but a rough palm clamped over her mouth.
Her panic ignited.
She kicked out blindly, her arms flailing. She twisted in his grip, elbowing him hard in the side. He winced but still didn't let go. Her teeth sank into his hand and he hissed sharply, saying things she couldn't make sense of.
"Stay still," a voice growled close to her ear. Her breath caught in her throat and she froze. She twisted and her wide eyes met his which was Shadowed and hard, but unmistakably his.
And then she saw them.
Through the crack in the barely ajar door, a line of men moved silently down the hallway above. Their steps were too careful. Their heads turned too often. They had weapons strapped to their sides, which was glinting faintly in the light. Their faces were cold and focused.
Jasmine's blood turned to ice.
It was unmistakable they were here for someone. Possibly them.
But they didn't look like the guards. They were draped in dark clothing and carrying that feral stillness like something just barely leashed. Jasmine's instincts screamed to stay still, not to breathe too loud.
She leaned closer to him, her voice barely a whisper. "Who are they?"
He didn't glance her way, just shifted slightly, dragging a space between their shoulders like her nearness offended him. "Rogues," he said dryly.
Her breath caught between her breath. "Rogues?" Her voice pitched up, but she tried to catch it before it cut through the quiet. "Are they here for us?"
He finally looked at her just a glance, a flick of his icy eyes that made her pulse jump in her throat. Then he peeled his gaze away and stalked toward the window, his boots silent on the old wooden floor.
"I don't know, princess," he muttered, his voice dipped in sarcasm. "Maybe they just happened to follow us across two cities and show up at this exact dump. Total coincidence, right?"
Jasmine's jaw clenched. "Don't call me that," she snapped, stepping after him. Her shoulders were tense. She hated how calm he looked, like this was just another mildly annoying event in his day.
Outside, dark figures prowled the edges of the building. She counted three. No, four, probably there more since it was dark outside, and she wasn't gifted with night vision.
"Why are they here?" Jasmine asked, tension tightening every line of her body. Her breath hitched slightly.
Draven didn't even flinch. He just leaned his weight against the cracked window frame and gave a lazy shrug.
"Probably here to take one of their own," he said flatly, flicking a glance her way that was far too casual for the situation.
Her stomach dropped.
"One of their own…" she echoed, voice barely audible. Her mind spun back to earlier to the fight, to how she had absorbed the death flame, he had called it. That didn't mean she was one of them whatever the hell that meant. She wasn't like those snarling, dark-eyed freaks pacing the yard outside. But her skin prickled like it was too tight. She was burning up, sweating despite the chill in the air. Her throat. God, her throat was so dry and scratchy, parched like something ancient and starving had just woken inside her.
"You burning of thirst?" Draven's voice cut through, low and laced with mocking amusement. He turned to face her, his arms crossed over his chest. "Because it really looks like you're ready to drain an ocean."
Jasmine scowled at him, breath hitching. She wanted to slap that stupid, dismissive smirk off his face. The way he looked at her so unbothered and so arrogant it made her blood boil harder than the fire under her skin.
"I'm fine," she hissed through clenched teeth, even though she absolutely wasn't.
He raised a brow like he didn't believe a damn word.
She turned away, fists clenched by her sides. Think, Jasmine. If they were going to escape, they had to do it fast. But Adriana was still out cold upstairs. And this guy this maddening, sharp-jawed, shadow-dwelling asshole was the only other person she had.
"What do we do?" Jasmine asked, her voice tight, the words rushed as she glanced toward the ajar door.
He didn't answer right away. He lifted a single brow in that infuriating way he had, like her question was somehow beneath him. "We…" he repeated, drawing out the word like it tasted bad. Then he trailed off completely, letting the silence fill in the rest loud and clear: he didn't plan on a 'we' at all.
Jasmine narrowed her eyes. "Don't tell me you're leaving us here."
He rolled his eyes, the audacity in his body language practically smacking her across the face. "What would you rather I do? I'm not dragging around two helpless women like I'm running some back-alley harem." He clicked his tongue, disgusted, like their very presence was an inconvenience. "One of you is halfway to corruption, and the other's out colder than a corpse. If you were in my shoes, what would you do?"
Jasmine folded her arms slowly, squaring her shoulders. "We're in the same shoes now. And believe me, if I get caught, I will make sure you're dragged right down with me."
That made him stop. Just for a second. A little twitch at the corner of his mouth, not quite a smirk but dangerously close. "You dramatic, feisty little mouse," he muttered, not kindly, before pivoting away from the window.
He strode toward the door, boots thudding dully on the creaky inn floorboards. Jasmine's chest tightened.
"Where are you going?" she demanded.
"Leaving," he said over his shoulder, voice laced with the most aggravating brand of sarcasm. "You can stay and wait for the welcoming committee if that's your thing."
"Wait—what? What about Adriana?" Her voice cracked slightly with disbelief.
He shrugged, like he hadn't just suggested leaving her best friend behind. "We leave without her."
Her arms remained crossed, her glare sharp enough to slice through stone. She didn't move.
He paused and looked at her from the doorway. "Wait… Don't tell me you expect me to carry her again?"
Jasmine nodded once at him. "You're the only one here with enough muscles and not passed out."
The look on Draven's face was almost worth the danger outside. His jaw ticked so hard she thought his teeth might snap. He looked like steam was about to shoot from his ears.
"You little, ungrateful, insufferab—"
She cut him off, lifting a hand and pointing toward the corridor. "You can save the insults for later. Right now, we need to move."
His eyes burned into hers, a storm brewing behind them. But finally he exhaled a curse under his breath and turned toward Adriana's room with all the enthusiasm of a man being forced to bathe a cat.