Caesar's frustration mounted as he pushed leaves aside, the men with him chasing after Cara and the others.
This shouldn't be complicated, but it was.
Caesar hadn't expected the map to lead back into the forest.
Where had they been going, if not to another city?
It was an unmarked map and the route unfamiliar, so Lumere wasn't indicated anywhere along its environs.
The deeper they went into the forest, the more he remembered.
The fake war.
The wolves.
Azael.
Dread filled him, his legs growing heavy.
Perhaps he had moved too fast because of his hunger for power and his desire for Eira.
His steps slowed as he deliberately lagged, already considering retreat.
He could leave the men to their fate.
After all, their loyalty was tied to the belief that his rebellion against Sirence would lead to their political liberation.
This would be the perfect place to rid himself of the burden of their expectations.
He crouched low behind a shrub as the men advanced, still firing and shouting.
Carefully he began tracing his way back toward the motorcars, hoping to escape before the dread he feared truly began.
The moonlight irritated him. The night air raised goosebumps along his skin, and his awareness of the dangers lurking in the forest fed the unsettling feeling of being watched.
Then he heard it.
Heavy breathing. Leaves rustling violently in the distance.
Caesar slipped between the massive roots of a tree.
His heartbeat quickened as the putrid smell of wolf flesh reached his nose.
The stomping of paws slowed…then stopped. Sniffing.
He gripped his rifle.
No silver bullets. It was a situation he had not anticipated.
The heavy footsteps softened into the slow cracks of leaves underfoot.
"Hiding like a rat—that's what made you the coward you're trying not to be."
Theo's voice.
A fresh wave of dread struck Caesar.
He scanned for a silent escape.
Theo would definitely kill him for lacing his drink with cyanide—and a lot of it—given that he was a supernatural dog.
Or could he take his chances with the gun, perhaps a distraction, but how far could he run from a werewolf?
"Come out," Theo called again, his steps drawing closer. "I'm not killing you. At least not yet."
Caesar almost laughed at the lie.
Theo really didn't think he was stupid, of course he knew he was now a loose end.
One Eira would want to be taken care of to keep Azael's suspicion clear of her.
He peeped from his hiding and spotted Theo's naked form, facing the opposite direction.
Quickly, he hid again.
Maybe he could fire several shots at him and make a run for it.
Distance might help.
But wolves hunted in parks.
And the motorcars were still far away.
How had Eira, a vampire, even gotten involved with them?
He tightened his grip on the rifle, resolved to shoot and run.
He peeked again—and met Theo's lethal stare.
Without hesitation, Caesar fired wildly, no longer caring where the bullets landed, before turning and sprinting into the forest without checking if Theo followed.
**
Elana winced with every step, her hand clutched tightly in Zane's as branches snagged her dress confirming they were still deep in the forest.
She had lost her footwear and something sharp had pierced one of her soles, but she said nothing to Zane or Cara.
They had bigger problems.
Ceasar.
Who for no reasonable question was trying to abduct her?
She fought back tears as she remembered the sweet baking scent of Zelda's sitting room now replaced by the nauseating smell of earth and leaves that made sweat bead across her forehead.
Her body trembled.
She had refused to eat since Cara was separated from them, and now her body was punishing her for it.
They slowed to a stop.
Elana curled her toes to contain her pain, refusing to be a liability.
"Cara?" Zane whispered.
"We can't go back," Cara replied. "We have to get to Lumere and find a hide…"
Lumere?
Why were they anywhere near Lumere?
Gunshots rang out behind them, followed by ghastly screams and the unmistakable growls of wolves.
Elana's fear reignited.
They shouldn't be here.
What if—
"Azael," she whispered his name.
The silence from both Zane and Cara told her they had realized it too.
They had run straight back to him.
"We have to keep moving." Cara urged. "We don't know if he's seen us."
"You ok, sweet pie?" Zane asked, trying to sound calm despite how dire their situation could be for him.
"Y-you can leave me here," Elana said, gently pulling her hand away.
For the first time, she accepted her fate.
It was better she'd not be born, better she died, so her pointless hopes to be free would die with her.
"Elana," Cara said sharply. "I will never forgive myself if I leave you. You cannot give up here…because if you do, I'll be right behind you."
Elana swallowed the pain throbbing in her sole again, she was weak but she would try for them,
maybe till her body gave up.
"Let's go," she whispered as Zane gripped her hand again.
They moved—then stopped abruptly.
Elana struggled to catch her breath as her heart wavered with exhaustion.
The smell of rotting flesh grew stronger. Growling followed.
Nausea overwhelmed her.
She wrenched her hand from Zane and vomited into the forest floor, tears spilling freely.
"Elana," Zane breathed in horror.
"Take her, Zane," Cara ordered, the edge of her voice strong. "I'll distract the wolves."
"No, Cara—"
"I am your General," she said, even as her voice shook with exhaustion. "This is my last order to you. Protect and don't think twice. It's…the least I could do."
Elana gasped for air but before she could speak, Zane grabbed her hand and ran ahead.
"C-Ca…" Elana said weakly as she followed Zane.
She couldn't cry anymore. Her tears were useless, just like she was.
Her body was failing her, and she could collapse at any moment.
She stumbled and fell into the rustling, dried earth. Zane immediately bent to support her.
"My God…you're burning up," he said, urgency vibrating through every word.
"I can't…go on," she admitted, trembling from what she now knew was full-blown fever out here under the open night sky.
He gathered her into his arms and ran.
Then he stopped.
Elana felt it—the sudden stiffness in his body. Goosebumps rose along his skin.
The wavering flow of his once hasty breaths.
The whimpering sound of an animal came next, then the heavy thud of its body hitting the ground.
Zane stepped back.
A gulp tore from his throat.
Even through her fever, Elana's heartbeat surged when Azael's voice rang out.
For the first time, it wasn't calm.
It was threaded with anger.
And something far more frightening—a slipping control.
"Its time you taste the edge of my mercy, Zane."
**
Azael stood watching, the inferno raging through his veins to burn Zane to a crisp restrained by only one thing—Elana trembling in his arms.
Her blood scented the air. She was hurt
Her hand lifted weakly and pressed faintly against Zane's chest.
Azael lost control.
With a violent flick of invisible force, he tore Zane from her.
Elana fell to the ground with a startled cry as he threw Zane's body into a tree with bone-shaking impact.
He crumpled to the ground with a broken grunt.
"Elana…" he croaked.
Azael's fury only swelled.
He lifted Zane again and slammed him into the tree a second time.
The crack of wood mixed with the sickening scent of fresh blood spilling into the air.
Zane lay, gasping for breath with a head injury, still struggling to get up despite his pathetic strength and human body.
"P-please, she's…sick." He pleaded through broken breaths, hand supporting a side of his ribs Azael had aimed to break into pieces.
Azael appeared next to Elana and lifted her into his arms.
He nearly crushed her frail body against his chest, not out of cruelty, but to savor the closeness.
Still alive.
Her heat burned through his clothes as she trembled violently in his hold.
Her sightless eyes lifted toward him as her breath came hot against his chest next.
Relief.
Unbelief.
Pain.
It twisted something deep inside him.
"It's my fault," Elana whispered weakly. "Please…spare them."
Azael clenched his jaw.
He had stretched his cast far across the land to block Fen's new abominations just to buy himself time to reach her.
And still, he had been too late.
Now the danger was within her, her body needed care.
Trisha was dead.
Leaves rustled sharply.
Cara burst from the brush, rifle still clutched tightly in her hands.
The instant her eyes landed on Azael, a visible wave of fear passed through her.
Her gaze darted to Zane's battered form.
She swallowed hard.
Azael's attention shifted. Subtle movement behind her.
It was the boy and the king.
Trying to make themselves small behind Cara as if she could shield them from him.
Lumere was close.
There would be a medic there to care for Elana.
Her shallow breaths worried him.
"My carriage will be here," he said coldly, loud enough for Cara to hear. "It will take you to someone who can help her."
"Please, lord Azael," Cara said, dropping to her knees on all fours before him.
Tears streamed from her dirt-streaked face, soaking into the fabric of her ruined dress.
"Please extend your mercy to the people who are dear to me as well."
"Your king does not deserve my mercy," Azael hissed.
"Then take my life too," Cara replied without hesitation. "There is no point living it without its purpose."
Azael cursed inwardly.
"Fine," he bit out. "But I will kill the lot of you—and Lumere—if Elana does not survive."
Cara lifted her face, hope trembling in her eyes just as the distant sound of horses' hooves began threading through the forest floor.
Azael looked down at Elana.
She was still awake.
Still fighting.
Blood trickled slowly from the wounds beneath her feet.
The Carriage rolled to a stop before them.
Cara was already inside with the king, the boy, and Zane.
She reached out with shaking hands to receive Elana.
Azael held her for a second longer.
Just a second.
Then he placed her into the carriage.
His gaze never left her until the door closed and the carriage rolled forward.
Without another word, Azael ascended into the air, his form shifting into that of a bat as he flew ahead into the night—guarding the path of the carriage to Lumere.