Page 27 of Kept By Her Obsessed Minotaurs

The healer's gaze meets mine, and something in my expression must convince him, because he nods, his face pale but determined. "Lay her down," he instructs, gesturing to a makeshift bed in the corner of the room.

I do as he says, my hands trembling as I place Mara onto the thin mattress. The healer works quickly, his fingers deftly applying a thick, herb-scented paste to Mara's wound. The air is thick with tension as he stitches the jagged edges of her flesh back together. I watch, helpless, as he fights to save her life.

"You're strong, Mara," I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. "You can make it through this. Don't you dare give up on me."

The healer glances at me, his eyes softening for a moment before he refocuses on his task. I can't shake the feeling of dread that coils in my stomach, a cold, creeping fear that I might lose her. But I push it aside, because I need to be strong for her—now more than ever.

As the healer continues his work, he looks up at me, exhaustion etched into his wrinkled face. "She's lost a lot of blood," he says, his voice grave. "The next few hours will be critical."

I sink onto the floor beside Mara's bed, taking her cold, limp hand in mine. The minutes tick by, each one stretching out into an eternity. I can't lose her. Not when I've just begun to understand what she means to me.

Suddenly, the door to the hut crashes open, the sound echoing like thunder in the tense silence. Garron and Lazir stagger in, their bodies a canvas of bloody war wounds. Garron's tunic is crimson, a testament to the battle they've endured. His face is etched with pain, but he waves away my concern with a gruff, "I'll live." His eyes, hard and defiant, meet mine. "What about Mara?"

I can barely choke out the words, my voice hoarse with fear. "The healer's doing everything he can."

Garron's gaze shifts to the makeshift bed where Mara lies, her breath shallow and ragged. He takes a step toward her, wincing as the movement pulls at his injury. Lazir follows, his face a mask of grim determination.

"She saved me," Garron says, his voice barely above a whisper. The room grows still, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. "She jumped in front of me. Took an arrow meant for me."

My heart clenchesat his confession. Mara, the fierce and fearless woman who has somehow found a way into my soul, risked her life for Garron. For us. I feel a surge of protectiveness, a fierce need to keep her safe, but it's mixed with a newfound respect for her courage.

Lazir's hands ball into fists at his sides as he watches Mara. His silence speaks volumes, the muscles in his jaw twitching with restrained emotion. I know what he's thinking. We've all underestimated her, written her off as just another human, but she's proven to be so much more.

"She saved you?" I repeat, my voice cracking. My eyes burn with unshed tears. She's fighting for her life because of us, because she chose to protect Garron.

Garron leans against the wall, his strength waning. For once, his sharp tongue is silent. He stares at Mara, his eyes reflecting a vulnerability I've never seen in him before.

The healer finally steps back, his face lined with exhaustion. "She's a fighter," he says, and there's a note of reluctant admiration in his voice. "Relentless. If she wakes up tonight, she'll survive."

His words ignite a spark of hope within me. She has to make it through this. I glance at Garron and Lazir, seeing the same determination mirrored in their eyes. We'll do whatever it takes to help her pull through.

I pull out my coin pouch and shove it into the healer's trembling hands. The gold means nothing - Mara's life is worth every piece. The old man's eyes widen as he counts, his weathered fingers running over each coin like he can't believe they're real.

"Where can we hide?" Lazir asks him, his voice tight with urgency. "Somewhere safe."

The healer tucks the gold away, nodding eagerly. "There's a hut, north of town in the forest. I use it when gathering herbs. No one else knows of it."

My arms slideunder Mara's slight form, lifting her as gently as possible onto the makeshift stretcher we've fashioned. Her skin is still too pale, her breathing shallow. The sight of her like this makes my chest ache.

Once we are outside away from the healer, I look over at Garron. "Are we really going to the hut?” I ask, my voice low.

"No," Garron shakes his head. "Dark elves will make him talk. We take a different path."

We slip out of town like shadows, the stretcher balanced between Garron and me. The forest swallows us, branchescatching at our clothes as we push deeper into the wilderness. Every step jostles Mara slightly, and I grit my teeth, trying to keep the movement as smooth as possible.

My eyes keep drifting to her face, watching for any sign of pain or distress. I failed her once - let her walk away when I should have protected her. Never again. The thought pounds through my head with each step: Never again. Never again.

The memory of finding her bleeding out, taking that arrow meant for Garron... it tears at my gut like a physical wound. I almost lost her. The thought alone makes me want to roar my fury at the sky, to tear apart anyone who would dare harm her.

24

GARRON

My hands feel heavier with every passing mile as Calo, Lazir, and I continue our trek deeper into the forest. My shoulder throbs in time with my heartbeat. The healing poultices the healer applied do little to dull the ache that radiates from the arrow wound. But these discomforts are nothing, a mere irritation compared to the weight in my chest at the sight of Mara so still and silent on the stretcher.

When we finally choose a spot to make camp for the night, it's Lazir who takes the initiative, building a fire that crackles and pops in the quietude of the wilderness. It's only then, once the flames lick the cool night air with their warmth, that we finally allow ourselves the luxury of stopping, of letting our guard down just a fraction.

Calo eases himself down onto the fallen log beside the fire, exhaustion etching lines into his youthful features. He’s taken her injury the hardest, wearing it like a yoke across his shoulders, though he tries to mask it.

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