Page 109 of Visions of Darkness

Pax hesitated for only a second before he gave a tight nod of agreement.

I took the exit, the car passing beneath the double rows of streetlamps that ran on either side of the road. Blips of light pressed in through the windows and flashed over Pax’s wounds like a strobe.

He scanned the area as we pulled into the rest stop’s clearing. It was close to four in the morning, and there were three semitrucks parked side by side in the long spaces reserved for them. Their lights were cut, but their engines still ran through the night.

There was no stopping the flare of panic.

The fear that any one of them might have been sent for me.

And I hated that I might not look at anyone the same ever again. That I might be terrified of any person I encountered for the rest of my life, however short it was going to be.

Pax gritted his teeth, his voice hard but hushed in its encouragement. “They likely pulled in to sleep for the night. There’s little chance we’ll run into them.”

Nodding, I swallowed around the knot in my throat and kept to the right at the fork that led to the parking lot that was reserved for regular vehicles on the far side of the buildings. Relief left me on a breath when I saw there were no other cars parked on that side. I slipped into an angled spot and turned off the engine.

Pax shifted in his seat to rummage around in our bags, his big body filling up the space with that energy only he possessed.

He passed me the shoes he’d bought me yesterday. “Put these on.”

I somehow managed to do it while in the driver’s seat, and he shoved his feet into his boots without lacing them.

He again glanced around the area before he slowly unlocked the door and climbed out, then reached behind his seat to pull out our bags.

I hurried to get out, trying to ignore the frozen wind that howled through the soaring pines that towered over the area, my thin pajamas no match for the chill.

Pax had already rounded the front of the car by the time I’d stood, and he took my hand. A rash of shivers streaked through my body. A clash of cold and overpowering heat.

His jaw clenched, and he forced out, “Let’s go.”

We rushed toward the buildings that housed the restrooms, keeping low and vigilant. He pressed us up to the exterior wall, and he peered around the corner before he gave my hand a tug when he found the other side empty, making sure that no one saw him in this state, not when we’d left a man dead a hundred miles behind us.

We slunk across the small courtyard toward the restroom. Pax again pressed us to the wall, peering around the corner and through the gaping door before he eased us inside.

It was only a fraction warmer within the white block walls, the only relief the protection from the wind. Two bright lights shone overhead, one over the two stalls and another over the sinks.

There were no mirrors or windows, and I gagged a little at the putrid stench as I tiptoed over the grungy brown tiles.

Pax grunted. “Not exactly the lap of luxury.”

“I think this is an opportune time to remember I’m not the princess you were hoping I was going to be,” I attempted to joke. To add some lightness to a disaster that weighed so heavy I thought I might suffocate beneath it.

Only a small cry got free when Pax finally turned around and faced me.

In the glaring light, his injuries were more distinct.

The cuts were deep, and bruises were starting to show where his skin had begun to swell.

“I’m so sorry,” I wheezed.

“You and I have both been through far worse, Aria.”

My teeth clamped down on my bottom lip as he brought voice to the pain we endured in Faydor.

“I still hate that it happened,” I murmured, edging closer while he propped our bags on a sink to keep them off the floor. He dug into his duffel, pulled out a large first aid kit, and balanced it on top; then he rummaged around inside it, eventually producing a bottle of peroxide, bandages, and clean cloths.

He turned on the faucet and leaned over the sink. Over and over, he splashed cold water onto his face to wash away the blood, which had begun to dry and cake, before he doused a cloth in peroxide.

He hissed as he began to scrub it over his wounds.

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