BLOODlines

19: Men in the dark

The forest swallowed them in its damp, breathless silence. Every step Cherish took sent twigs snapping beneath her feet, every rustle in the underbrush made her flinch. Her soaked dress clung to her skin, heavy and cold, and her teeth chattered so loudly she feared their hunters would hear.

Frank moved ahead, scanning the path with sharp, cautious eyes. His shirt was torn from the river’s violent grip, blood seeping from a cut on his arm. But his steps never faltered. His hand was locked around hers, pulling her forward as though sheer determination could bend fate.

“They won’t stop,” Cherish whispered, her voice trembling. “Frank… if they find us…”

“They won’t,” he cut in, firm, though his voice was low. “Not if we keep moving.”

But even as he spoke, Cherish could hear them—the faint echoes of voices, carried on the wind, closer than she dared imagine.

She tightened her grip on Frank’s hand. “Why are they after us? What do they want from us?”

Frank didn’t answer immediately. His jaw tightened, his gaze flicking through the shadows. Finally, he said, “It’s not just about you. Or me. It’s bigger than that. And if they catch us… the truth dies with us.”

His words sent a fresh wave of fear through her veins. What truth? What was so dangerous that men would hunt them like animals through the night?

The voices grew clearer—harsh, commanding, laced with anger. Flashlights flickered in the distance, beams cutting through the trees like blades of light.

Frank yanked Cherish behind a fallen log. They crouched low, their hearts thundering in sync as footsteps crunched on leaves nearby. Cherish’s breath came in shallow gasps, her chest aching with the effort of keeping quiet. She could feel Frank’s arm against hers, tense as steel, ready to shield her if it came to that.

“Spread out!” one of the men barked. “They can’t have gone far.”

The beams of light swept dangerously close, one passing just inches above their heads. Cherish pressed her face into Frank’s shoulder, silently praying. She could hear the rasp of her own pulse, the thundering of her heart, the weight of doom pressing down on her.

Minutes passed, though they felt like an eternity. At last, the footsteps moved on, fading into the distance.

Frank exhaled slowly, easing the tension in his shoulders. He leaned close to her ear. “We need to move. Now.”

They rose cautiously and slipped deeper into the forest, away from the voices. The trees thickened around them, branches clawing at their clothes like desperate hands. The moon vanished again behind clouds, plunging them into near darkness.

Suddenly, Cherish froze.

“Frank,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“What is it?”

She pointed with a trembling hand. Ahead, carved into the bark of a massive tree, was a symbol—a crude cross slashed through with a jagged line. It looked fresh, the bark still raw.

Frank’s face darkened. “They’re marking the forest. They’ve been here before us.”

A sick weight settled in Cherish’s stomach. “We’re walking into a trap.”

Before Frank could reply, a twig snapped sharply to their right. Both of them whipped around, but the darkness revealed nothing.

Then, from the shadows, a voice slithered out—calm, mocking, too close for comfort.

“You can’t run forever.”

Cherish’s heart lurched. Her breath caught, her legs trembling beneath her. She clutched Frank’s arm, her nails digging into his skin.

Frank turned slowly, scanning the trees. “Show yourself.”

The silence that followed was worse than the voice itself. No movement. No footsteps. Just the oppressive darkness pressing down on them.

“Frank…” Cherish’s whisper was almost a sob.

He pulled her close, his lips near her ear. “Listen to me. No matter what happens, don’t let go of me. Understand?”

She nodded, tears brimming in her eyes.

A rustle erupted to their left. Then another to their right. They were surrounded.

Flashlights flared to life, beams slicing through the dark, blinding them. Figures emerged from the shadows—three, four, maybe more. Men with cold eyes and harder fists.

Cherish’s blood ran cold.

One of them stepped forward, his lips curling into a cruel smile. “You gave us a good chase. But it ends here.”

Frank shoved Cherish behind him, his body a shield. “If you want her, you’ll have to go through me.”

The man chuckled darkly, pulling something from his coat—a knife that glinted in the pale light. “That was the plan.”

Cherish’s scream caught in her throat as the men closed in, their circle tightening, leaving no room to run..