Chapter2
1406 Words
Asphalt and Blood
Aeryn's POV
The motorcycle zoomed and died somewhere between nowhere and nothing. I'd been riding for hours, pushing Kael's bike harder than it was meant to go. The gas gauge had hit empty twenty minutes ago, and I'd been running on fumes and desperation ever since.
Now I sat on the side of a dark highway, the engine clicking as it cooled. My hands shook on the handlebars. Not from fear. From exhaustion that went bone deep.
I climbed off the bike and immediately regretted it. My legs gave out, and I hit the gravel hard. Pain shot through my knees, but I barely felt it over the ache in my chest, the one that had nothing to do with the physical body.
How far had I come? Fifty miles? A hundred? Far enough that Kael's scent had faded from my clothes, replaced by wind and gasoline and freedom that tasted like ash.
I pushed myself up and stumbled away from the road, into the scrub brush and scattered trees. My wolf whined inside me, confused and hurting. She didn't understand why we'd left our mate. She didn't understand that he wasn't ours anymore, if he ever really was.
"Just a little farther," I whispered to her, to myself, to the baby I could barely sense yet. "We need to hide."
But my body had other plans. Three steps into the brush, my vision blurred. The ground tilted sideways. I grabbed a tree trunk and missed.
I hit the dirty face first, tasting blood and dust. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I should get up. Kael would send trackers. Marcus was probably already following my trail, and he was the best tracker in Grimfang.
But I couldn't move. Couldn't do anything except lie there and watch the stars spin above me. My hand found my stomach again. "I'm sorry," I breathed. "I'm so sorry, little one."
Then darkness swallowed me whole.
Voices woke me. Male voices, rough and human.
"The hell is that?"
"Motorcycle. Nice one too. Custom work."
"I mean her, genius. Is she dead?"
Hands grabbed my shoulders and rolled me over. I groaned, trying to fight, but my limbs felt like lead.
"She's alive," someone said. "Barely. Look at her eyes, they're moving."
I forced my eyes open. Three men stood over me, silhouetted against the dawn sky. They wore leather vests covered in patches. Motorcycle club colors, but not pack. They are human.
"Easy there, sweetheart," one of them said. He was older, maybe fifty, with a gray beard and kind eyes. "You're hurt. What happened?"
I tried to speak, but my throat was too dry.
"Get some water," the older man ordered. One of the others jogged back toward the road. I heard more motorcycles coming nearer, saw more figures standing near Kael's abandoned bike.
The man returned with a bottle. The older one, with a gray beard, seemed like the leader, lifted my head and held it to my lips. I drank greedily, water spilling down my chin.
"That's it," he said. "Take it slow. I'm Hank. What's your name?"
"Aeryn," I managed.
"Aeryn. Pretty name. What are you running from?"
Everything. Everyone. My whole life.
"Bad situation," I said instead.
Hank nodded like that made perfect sense. "Boyfriend?"
Close enough. "Yes."
"He did this to you?" Hank gestured at my face. I touched my cheek and my fingers came away bloody. I must have cut it when I fell.
"No. I did this to myself. I fell."
"Running that hard, huh?" Hank sat back on his heels. "Well, you picked a hell of a spot to collapse. You're about ten miles from Redwood City. Middle of nowhere otherwise."
"Lucky me," I muttered.
One of the other men, younger with a shaved head, crouched down. "That's a sixty thousand dollar bike you left on the road, girl. Where'd you get it?"
"Stole it," I said. No point lying about that.
The shaved head laughed. "Ballsy. I like her, Hank."
"She's half dead, Razor," Hank said. "Get the van. We'll take her to Doc's place."
"Why?" Razor asked. "She's not our problem."
Hank gave him a look that could have melted steel. "Because that's what we do. Now get the van."
Razor muttered something but obeyed. Hank looked back at me. "Can you stand?"
"I can try."
He helped me up, and my wolf stirred. She didn't like strange men touching us, even helpful ones. For a second, I felt my control slip. My eyes probably flashed gold. My nails started to sharpen. No. Not here. Not now.
I shoved her down hard, locking her away. Hank's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't comment. Maybe he'd thought it was the light.
A white van pulled up, and they loaded me into the back. Hank climbed in with me while Razor drove. The third man, I never caught his name, stayed behind with the bikes.
"How far along are you?" Hank asked suddenly.
I froze. "What?"
"You keep touching your stomach," he said. "And you got that look. My old lady had the same one when she was carrying our son. So, how far?"
There was no point denying it. "Three weeks. Maybe four."
Hank nodded slowly. "That's why you're running?"
"Part of it."
"Does the father know?"
"No." My voice came out harder than I meant. "And he never will."
"Your choice," Hank said. "But you should know, pregnancy ain't easy without help. Especially if you're on the run."
"I'll manage."
"That determination might keep you alive," he said. "Or get you killed. Hard to say which."
The van pulled up to a small house on the outskirts of a town. A man in his sixties came out, a medical bag already in hand. This must be Doc.
They carried me inside to a room that smelled like antiseptic and old coffee. Doc examined me with efficient, gentle hands. He cleaned the cut on my face, checked my vitals, and asked questions I mostly avoided.
"You're dehydrated and exhausted," he finally said. "But otherwise healthy. The baby seems fine, though it's too early to tell much."
"She needs rest," Hank said.
"She needs a hospital," Doc corrected. "But I'm guessing that's not happening?"
I shook my head. Doc sighed. "Then stay here for a few days at least. Let your body recover. You'll hurt yourself and the baby if you keep going like this."
Every instinct screamed at me to refuse. To run again, to keep moving. But my body was done. I could feel it.
"Okay," I whispered. "A few days."
Those few days turned into a week. Then two. Hank and his MC, the Iron Rogues they called themselves, brought me food and supplies. They asked a few questions. Doc checked on me daily.
But the pregnancy got harder. Without pack healers, without the special herbs and remedies our kind used, my body struggled. I was sick constantly. Weak. Some days I couldn't keep anything down.
On the worst day, I nearly shifted in front of Doc. The pain was so intense, my wolf tried to take over, thinking she could heal us faster. I locked myself in the bathroom and fought her for hours, sweating and shaking until she finally retreated.
I couldn't do this. Couldn't survive in the human world while carrying a wolf pup. But I also couldn't go back.
That night, alone in the small room they'd given me, I made a decision. I placed both hands on my stomach, on the growing life inside me.
"Your name will be Nyx," I whispered. "After my father. And you will never, ever belong to Kael Rivenhart. You will never know the Grimfang Pack or their rules or their betrayals."
My voice got stronger. "You will be free. I promise you that. Whatever it takes, however hard it gets, you will be free."
The baby kicked for the first time, just a flutter. Like he understood. Like he agreed with the name I gave him.
I closed my eyes and let the tears come. I cried for what I'd lost, for what my son would never have, for the life I'd chosen over the one I'd been given. But I didn'
t regret it. Not for one second.
This was my path now. The human world, dangerous and unknown. But it was mine. Ours. And I would never go back..
- Writer
