Page 50 of A Hunger Soft and Wild

Movement in the corner of my eye—Aria.

She steps from the shadows, moving with a silent grace that almost startles me. She cheats, I think, watching as she wrenches a thick branch from the ground and swings it directly into an enforcer’s ribs. They stumble, eyes widening at the unexpected hit, and she follows through with a brutal shove and a slash of her dagger.

She’s learning.A surge of pride flares in my chest—but it’s short-lived.

“Get back!” I bark.Stay safe.

She doesn’t listen. Of course she doesn’t. Instead, she stays close, eyes darting between me and the remaining attackers. She’s tense, wary—but she’s not running.

I don’t have time to argue. Another enforcer lunges at me. I meet them halfway, blades clashing, sparks flying in the dim light.

And then I hear her.

A sharp intake of breath—one that doesn’t belong to me.

I risk a glance.

Aria’s face has gone pale. Her whole body has locked up, her grip on the dagger faltering. And then I see why.

One of the enforcers steps forward, face half-lit in the flickering glow of the fight. His mouth twists into something cruel as his gaze locks onto Aria.

“Well, well. Look what we have here.” His voice is smooth, mocking. “I almost didn’t believe it when they said you ran. But here you are, playing human.”

The enforcer tilts his head, amusement dancing in his cold eyes. “Your mother will be so disappointed. All that power, all that promise—wasted on this.” His gaze flicks briefly to me before settling back on her. “Did you really think she’d just let you go?”

A slow, deliberate step forward.

Aria doesn’t move.

“Come quietly,” he murmurs. “Save us the trouble. Save her the embarrassment.”

He reaches for Aria.

Her breath catches—a soft, shuddering thing. She doesn’t move.

She’s frozen.

Something inside mesnaps.

I shove her behind me—hard—just as his fingers graze the air where she stood.

"Not happening," I snarl, stepping between them.

His eyes cut to mine, sharp with irritation—but I don’t give him a chance to speak. I slam my elbow into his gut, and he doubles over with a grunt.

But he’s fast—too fast—and already recovering, blade out, teeth bared.

I brace for impact.

Then there’s a sudden scuffle behind me—footsteps, breath, panic.

Aria.

She didn’t run.

She should’ve run.

I twist, just in time to see her, dagger in hand, eyes wide and wild. Her hands shake, but her feet are sure.

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