Page 97 of Avidian
Not buried by snow, not covered in frost—fresh.
One of them is still smoking.
My breath catches as I take a slow step back, my pulse pounding in my ears. Someone’s been here.
Someone’s here.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
RULE 28 OF THE NEW ORDER: THE MOMENT YOU LET YOUR GUARD DOWN IS THE MOMENT THE KNIFE FINDS YOUR BACK.
I lunge forwardto slam the door shut, my hands shaking and my breath ragged. As the latch is about to catch, the force of a boot slams it open, and before I can react, he’s on me.
Orin’s arms clamp around me from behind like steel bands, his breath hot against my ear. “Bad move, menace.”
Panicking, I fumble for the knife Malachi gave me, my fingers clumsy as they close around the handle. With a wild swing, I drive it into Orin’s shoulder, the blade sinking into muscle with a sickening sound. He roars, reacting enough for me to break free. I bolt through the open door and plunge into the snow.
Each step is a struggle, the heavy snow swallowing my boots and slowing me down. I can’t stop. It’s too late now. I stabbed him. There’s no turning back. Every instinct screams at me to keep moving, to put as much distance between us as possible.
My mind spirals with the consequences of what I’ve done. There’s no way Orin will let this go. If he catches me now… I cannot let my mind go there.
The snow muffles my frantic footfalls, but I can still hear him behind me, his voice cutting through the cold. “You think you can run from me, demon? I’ll tear you apart!”
I veer left, away from where I think Malachi might be, knowing I can’t lead Orin to him. The cabin disappears behind me, swallowed by the dense forest. Branches snag my clothes, and the cold bites into my exposed skin, but I push forward, my focus narrowing to a single objective: run and hide.
The snow deepens, the drifts pulling at my legs like hands trying to drag me down. My lungs burn, my heart pounds, and still I run, weaving between trees, my body aching with every movement. My mind latches onto one thought, repeating like a mantra:He can’t catch me. He can’t take me.
I spot a fallen tree ahead, its massive trunk forming a hollow beneath it. Without thinking, I dive toward it, scrambling into the narrow space. Snow and dirt press against my body, but I don’t care. I curl in on myself, barely breathing, my knife clutched tightly in my hand.
The forest falls silent except for the pounding of my heart. I strain to hear any sound over the blood rushing in my ears. Footsteps crunch closer, and I hold my breath.
“Come on, Katja. You can’t hide forever. I’ll find you, and when I do...” Orin’s voice drifts through the trees, taunting, reveling.
I cover my mouth to stifle a sob, the icy air stinging my eyes. Every fiber of my being wants to bolt, to keep running, but I force myself to stay still. Be invisible. Be nothing.
The footsteps stop. Too close.
But I wasn’t thinking there could be another. My focus was too fixed on Orin, on his voice slicing through the quiet, on the sheer desperation to stay hidden. I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings.
I peer out cautiously from beneath the fallen tree, my eyes scanning the distance. I catch a glimpse of Orin moving between the trees, his figure a shadow against the pale snow.
Relief is short-lived. Arms wrap around me from behind, steel-strong and unyielding.
Frantic, I whirl around, the knife in my hand raised and ready to strike. My aim is true, the blade angled toward the chest of whoever grabbed me, but I falter the moment I see his face.
Banks.
His expression is torn, conflicted. I hesitate for a heartbeat, the blade trembling in my grip, and that’s all the time Orin needs.
Before I can react, Orin is there, his shadow looming over me like a storm. The force of his blow lands against the side of my head, the crack ringing in my ears as pain blossoms, hot and immediate. My knees buckle, the knife slipping from my fingers into the snow.
The world tilts, my vision blurring at the edges. Somewhere through the haze, I think I see Banks’s mouth move, his lips shaping words I can’t quite hear. “I’m sorry.” Maybe. Or maybe it’s wishful thinking. I can’t be sure of anything now as the darkness pulls me under.
“Nice of you to join us,”Orin says mockingly as I stir, the throbbing in my head pulling me from the fog. I force my eyes open and take in my surroundings. I’m on the couch in Marco’s plane. The realization hits like a punch to the gut.
I sit up quickly, pressing my hand to the side of my head, which stings.
“Sorry about that,” Orin continues, lounging in the seat across from me with a smug smile. “But you didn’t give me much of a choice now, did you?” He winks.
