Of Blood And Lies

Predator Or Prey

{ Avina }

The car jerked violently, throwing me forward against the seatbelt. The strap bit into my chest and shoulder, holding me back as momentum tried to hurl me through the windshield. My hands locked on the steering wheel, knuckles white, arms rigid. The Honda skidded, fishtailing slightly as the anti-lock brakes pulsed beneath my foot. The smell of burning rubber filled the car. My heart hammered so hard I could feel it in my throat.

The figure was right there—fifteen feet, ten feet—

The car stopped.

I sat frozen, hands still gripping the wheel, chest heaving. The engine idled roughly, the only sound in the sudden silence. My entire body trembled with adrenaline. The figure lay crumpled on the asphalt just beyond my front bumper.

Oh goddess no. Did I hit him?

I fumbled with the seatbelt, my fingers shaking so badly I could barely press the release button. It clicked free. I shoved the door open and stumbled out onto the road, my legs unsteady.

"Hey!" My voice came out hoarse. "Are you okay?"

The figure didn't move.

I rushed forward, dropping to my knees on the rough asphalt beside him. A kid. Maybe thirteen. Rags hung off him, soaked with blood. His hair was matted dark, plastering to his skull. Blood smeared across the road beneath him—fresh crimson pooling around his mouth where he'd coughed it up. His lips were stained dark red, foam mixing with the blood at the corners. But it was his skin that made my stomach drop. Unnatural paleness. Almost gray. The kind of color that meant organs were shutting down from the inside.

No no no—

I pressed my fingers to his neck, searching for a pulse. Faint. Thready. His skin was ice-cold despite the warm afternoon air, clammy with the sweat of someone fighting a losing battle.

"Can you hear me?" I said, louder this time.

His amber eyes cracked open, unfocused, searching my face. "Who...are you?" His voice barely a whisper.

"Does that matter right now?" I ran my hands over him, checking for injuries. His breathing was shallow, irregular. The blood he'd coughed up wasn't from an external wound—it was coming from inside him, forced up by organs shutting down.

Poison.

The symptoms were all wrong for anything else—the unnatural paleness of his skin, the way his body was shutting down from the inside, the desperate gasping like his lungs were drowning, the blood and foam at his mouth. The realization struck like lightning, dragging me backward through time.

The kitchen smelled of dried herbs and freshly baked bread, every surface cluttered with bundles hanging from the ceiling or spread neatly across the table. Glass jars lined the shelves, each carefully labeled in my mother's elegant handwriting. Some held crushed leaves. Others contained roots, powders, berries, and flowers I'd spent years trying to memorize. I couldn't have been older than ten.

Mom arranged several herbs into neat little piles while I sat across from her with a notebook open, chewing the end of my pencil as I tried to remember which plants treated fever and which ones made it worse.

"You've been staring at that page for five minutes," Jace said from the doorway.

"I'm thinking."

"No, you're panicking."

"I'm not panicking."

He wandered into the kitchen anyway, plucking a dried root from the table before twirling it between his fingers like a knife.

Mom didn't even look up. "Put it back."

"I was just looking."

"You were deciding whether it'd taste terrible."

"...Maybe."

She finally lifted her eyes, giving him the same patient look only mothers seemed capable of perfecting. "If you poison yourself, don't expect your sister to fix it."

Jace grinned as he dropped the root back where he'd found it. "I have complete faith in her."

"That's because she's the one studying."

"I study."

Mom raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Then what should you do first?"

"Roll them on their side so they don't choke on blood or foam." he answered confidently.

"No."

"What?" he asked, genuinely looking surprised.

"You check the airway first. Make sure they can breathe before you roll them over."

"Oh."

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. Mom smiled briefly before reaching for a small bundle tied together with twine. Her expression grew more serious as she untied it, revealing dark purple flowers.

"Back to you Avina. What's this one?" she questioned quietly, laying it between us.

"Wolfsbane," I answered immediately.

She nodded. "Good."

Jace leaned closer, curiosity replacing his usual grin. Mom rested her fingertips lightly against the dried petals.

"If someone comes to you after ingesting this, what do you look for first?"

I frowned, searching my memory. "They'll..." I hesitated. "They'll have trouble breathing."

"They will. What else?"

I studied the flower before answering. "They'll be weak?"

"Yes."

She waited. I knew there was more. "Their skin..." My eyes lit up. "It loses its color."

Mom smiled. "And?"

I glanced down at my notes. "...Blood."

She nodded once.

"Coughing blood. Their organs begin shutting down from the inside. Their breathing becomes shallow, their pulse weak, their skin goes cold and every minute matters."

The room had gone completely quiet. Even Jace wasn't joking anymore. Mom looked at both of us before gently covering the wolfsbane with a cloth.

"Most people think strength is what saves lives." She reached across the table and rested her hand over mine. "It isn't."

Her voice softened. "Strength may buy someone time." She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "But knowledge is what brings them home."

The memory vanished as quickly as it had appeared. My gaze snapped back to the boy lying beneath my hands. Wolfsbane. My stomach twisted as his head suddenly lolled to the side, as consciousness slipped away.

"Stay with me!" I snapped, but his eyes had already closed again. I opened his mouth, checking his airway immediately. When it was clear, I rolled him onto his side just as another coughing fit hit him. To make matters worse, I caught a scent.

Or rather...scents.

Plural.

Wolves.

Close.

Multiple wolves moving through the forest with predatory purpose, their scents thick with aggression and bloodlust.

Shit.

My car. Just ahead. Maybe ten feet. The Honda sat there, driver's door still open from when I'd bolted out. Engine still running. I could hear it idling.

Move. Now.

I hooked my arms under the boy's shoulders and hauled him up. He was dead weight, his chin hitting his chest. Too heavy. Too slow. But I dragged him anyway, my boots scraping against the asphalt as I backpedaled toward the car.

"Just a little further—" I hissed.

Eight feet. Six. The car door gaped open like salvation. If I could just get him inside, slam the door, floor it—

Movement.

A massive wolf burst from the tree line directly ahead—all dark fur and muscle and raw predatory power. It didn't stop. Didn't hesitate. The wolf launched itself directly at my car, its body slamming hard against the hood with a deafening BANG. The impact rocked the vehicle, and the engine stalled with a shudder. Metal groaned under the wolf's weight as it landed, claws scrabbling for purchase on the smooth surface.