Page 88 of Avidian
Desperate, I bite down hard on the hand over my mouth, tasting sweat and dirt. He curses, his grip loosening enough for me to elbow him in the ribs. He stumbles back, and I turn, catching a glimpse of his face—a bearded, rough man with unfamiliar eyes.
Before he can recover, Malachi appears like a shadow out of nowhere, slamming into the man with enough force to send them both to the ground. The man doesn’t stand a chance. Malachi’s knife glints in the faint light as he presses it to the man’s throat, his voice low and deadly. “How many of you are there?”
The man grits his teeth, glaring up at Malachi. “Enough to bury you,” he spits.
Malachi’s jaw tightens, and he presses the blade harder, drawing a thin line of blood. “Wrong answer.”
Before he can push further, another figure emerges from the forest charging toward Malachi. I act on instinct, grabbing the nearest branch off the ground and swinging it with everything I have. It cracks against the man’s head, and he drops like a stone.
“Kat!” Malachi barks, but there’s no time to argue. More movement in the trees catches my eye, and I realize how outnumbered we are.
“They’re surrounding us!” I shout, reaching for the red-capped vial in my pocket and deciding now is as good a time as any to try it.
My fingers tremble as I pop the top. A sparkling mist swirls out, and I inhale the vapor. The effect is immediate—a rush of heat, strength flooding my limbs, sharpening my senses. I’ve never felt anything quite like it, but I suddenly feel pure power coursing through me.
Malachi glances at me, his eyes narrowing, but there’s no time for questions. More figures close in, and the fight begins.
“I take it you wouldn’t listen if I told you to run?” Malachi asks, handing me a large knife, his eyes sharp and scanning the darkness around us as bodies move through the trees.
“Not a chance,” I reply, gripping the handle tightly, trying to ignore the chill racing down my spine.
He presses one of the buttons on his mask, and a row of LED lights flickers briefly, casting a soft glow across his face. For a moment, his eyes widen, the Avidian taking full effect. It distracts me for a split second—long enough for something to go horribly wrong.
The faint crunch of snow behind me snaps me out of my daze, and I spin around.
“Touch her, and I promise your death won’t be a slow one,” Malachi growls, his voice cutting through the night like ice, a coldness in his tone that chills me to my core. And for some reason a part of me relishes it.
“I’m going to do more than touch her,” the man sneers, stepping from the shadows, his hulking form blocking the moonlight.
Before I can react, Malachi moves in a blur, his body a flash of steel and fury. He shoves me back, my feet slipping in the snow as he crashes into the man. I barely have time to blink before the gleam of his knife flashes in the moonlight, and thesickening sound of steel slicing into flesh echoes through the still night.
The man grunts as the blade twists in his gut, the wet sound of impact following quickly. The stench of blood fills the air, and I scrunch my nose, trying to suppress the nausea crawling up my throat.
Malachi pulls the knife free with a swift, practiced motion, and kicks the man’s body in the chest, sending him sprawling face-first into the snow. No need to finish the job—Malachi promised him a slow death.
I watch as the crimson liquid blooms into the white snow, staining it black in the cold light.
“Fuck,” I breathe, stumbling back a step, my heart pounding in my ears.
Malachi doesn’t look at me, his focus locked on the figure now slumped against the snow. His chest rises and falls quickly, his muscles taut, but there’s no hesitation, no panic.
“Stay sharp,” he says, barely sparing me a glance as he wipes the blood from his knife. “There’s more of them.”
I nod, clutching the blade he gave me, scanning the tree line for movement.
Something to the left catches my eye. Another figure steps out from behind a tree, their stance tense, weapon raised. I don’t think, just throw. My knife slices through the air, grazing the side of their arm.
“Nice aim,” Malachi says, impressed. But there’s no time to celebrate.
The man snarls, throwing himself at me, but Malachi is there again, a blur of speed and strength. With one swift motion, he slams the hilt of his blade into the man’s temple, dropping him instantly.
I glance around wildly, the forest suddenly alive with shadows. More figures are emerging, their footsteps crunching against the snow, and I know this isn’t over.
“Mal, how many?—”
“Doesn’t matter,” he interrupts, gripping my arm and tugging me closer. “Stick by me. Don’t hesitate, and don’t hold back.”
I nod as he pulls another blade and presses it into my hand.
