Blake Hart

I could barely move. Every breath was a razor, every heartbeat a scream inside my chest. But I could still hear them, voices, firm and deliberate, cutting through the forest’s hush like a blade.

With what little strength I had, I shifted my weight and leaned slightly around the trunk of the tree. My vision swam but I managed to focus just enough to see them.

Two men. Well-dressed. Out of place in every possible way. Their suits were immaculate, dark and tailored, not a speck of dirt on them despite the wilderness. I wouldn't even see men like that in the city center, let alone out here. One stood closer, his posture relaxed but commanding, as if the forest itself bent around him. The other hovered behind, observant but silent.

They didn’t look like the others. Not like the ones who took me. Not like the ones who beat me.

Still, that didn’t mean they were safe. Just being associated with that world was enough. I had to move, had to run.

Even if they weren’t monsters, they could be worse.

I turned, limbs screaming in protest, every nerve lit with pain, and tried to slip back into the trees,

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

His voice stopped me cold.

It was low, steady, and deep like gravel rolling through smoke. My legs betrayed me, freezing mid-step. Slowly, I turned my head back.

He was closer now.

Dark eyes locked with mine, unreadable but sharp. His head tilted slightly as he looked me over, not with disgust or cruelty but something more curious. Admiring, even. Though I couldn’t tell for sure.

There was a tension in my chest that had nothing to do with pain. I wasn’t sure what I was afraid of more, him or the way I felt under his gaze.

“You won’t survive the night out here,” he said. “This forest goes on for miles. And in your condition… you won’t even make it past sundown.”

His tone wasn’t unkind. Just… sure. Like he knew the rules of this world and I didn’t. And maybe I didn’t, not anymore.

The one behind him spoke for the first time, voice quieter. “She doesn’t look like one of G’s people.”

I barely turned toward him. He felt like a shadow compared to the other man. Like a second thought. But I could tell from his tone that he was sharp, even if he wasn’t leading.

“No,” the first man replied, eyes still on me. “She’s not.”

That answer made something tighten in my throat. How did he know? Why was he so sure?

The second man took a slow step closer but kept a distance. “Could be running from them.”

Them. The word hung heavy.

He wasn’t wrong.

The first nodded slightly, then looked back at me. “What happened to you?”

I said nothing. My throat felt too dry. My voice, too lost.

If I spoke, if I gave it shape, then it would all become real again. I wasn’t ready for that.

He didn’t press. Just studied me for a beat longer.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said. “But if you stay out here, something else will.”

He took a careful step toward me, then paused.

My legs wanted to recoil but I couldn’t move. Not out of fear, but exhaustion. I wasn’t sure what strength I had left to run. And part of me… didn’t want to.

His gaze didn’t shift, not even once. He was watching me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. Or maybe a storm on the horizon.

There was a gentleness hidden beneath all that command, one I wasn’t sure I trusted.

The other man spoke again, eyes flicking toward his companion. “We need to move. The place is already burning.”

“I know,” he said, but didn’t look away from me.

A strange silence stretched between us, almost sacred. My pulse thundered in my ears but my breathing slowed just a little.

He knelt slightly, just to bring himself closer to my height without stepping too close. There was something measured in every move, like he didn’t want to spook me.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

I hesitated.

He waited.

“…Blake,” I finally whispered.

His expression barely shifted but I caught the briefest flicker of something in his eyes. Recognition? Surprise? I couldn’t tell.

“Blake,” he repeated quietly like he was testing how the name felt in his mouth.

He stood again, slow and smooth.

“Come with me.”

Just that.

No explanation. No threat.

Just a choice.

And somehow, that was even more terrifying.