Page 38 of Beast in the Badlands
I tilt her chin up with a bloodstained claw. "Still talking shit?"
Her grin's pure poison. "You want a medal for lasting six minutes?"
Cock twitches inside her - traitorous bastard. Emry's eyes widen. "Oh you havegotto be ki?—"
I silence her with a kiss. "Don't worry, little love. I'll let your body rest."
The stars twinkle above us, scattered like diamonds tossed carelessly across black velvet. I nestle closer to Emry, our bodies tangled in the cool night air. My fingers brush over her arm, tracing the scars that mark her skin—each one a testament to battles fought and survived.
“Tomorrow,” I say, my voice low and steady. “Kairon will be here as soon as tomorrow.”
Emry sits up, her brow furrowing. “Tomorrow? That’s not nearly enough time to get everything packed.”
I chuckle, unable to suppress the amusement that rises at her seriousness. “It’s not like you have a wardrobe to get ready.”
She shoots me a funny look, half bemused and half incredulous. “Most of them might be dead,” she counters sharply, “but there are still nearly thirty people here! Not tomention all the gear and equipment—and some are too injured to move.”
I roll my shoulders back and shake my head slightly. “They aren’t coming with us,” I interrupt, each word deliberate. "Just you, Emry."
Her eyes widen in shock, disbelief flashing across her features. “What do you mean? I can’t just leave them behind! How could you say something like that?”
“Because they don’t matter to me,” I reply flatly. The truth is raw on my tongue, jagged as glass. “They could die for all I care. Only you matter.”
A flicker of hurt crosses her face before anger takes its place. She stands abruptly, pacing away from me beneath the shimmering sky.
“I refuse to come with you,” she snaps back over her shoulder.
My pulse quickens with frustration and fear—I want to reach out and grab her wrist; pull her back into the warmth of our embrace where everything felt safe and whole again—but she needs more than just comfort now; she needs understanding.
I draw in a breath heavy with resolve and push myself upright despite the ache gnawing at my legs from our earlier activities—the pain sharpens my focus.
“Listen,” I say firmly. “You can’t stay here! This place… it’s hell for you! You’ve seen what they do.” My gaze hardens against the memory of blood-soaked battlefields and anguished cries echoing through broken halls.
“I won’t abandon them!” She snaps back with fierce conviction that sets fire in my chest once more—a blaze of stubbornness only matched by my own determination.
“They won’t care if you leave!” My voice rises despite myself; every word pushes against an invisible barrier between us thatfeels insurmountable now—like trying to scale a mountain with bare hands while it crumbles beneath your feet.
“But I care!” Her voice cracks slightly; frustration morphs into desperation wrapped tightly around an emotional core that refuses to break under pressure—something inside me twists painfully at seeing how much this weighs on her shoulders alone.
“You think staying here makes you noble?” My tone turns harsh—more aggressive than intended—but this is war; it demands clarity amidst chaos even when emotions threaten rationality at every turn.
"Fuck off, Renn."
I push myself up on my elbows, frustration boiling inside me like molten metal. “You have to come with me! You belong to me!” The words slip out before I can reign them in—a guttural response fueled by instinct.
“I don’t belong to anyone!” Her voice rings out like a gunshot in the quiet night.
My chest tightens as I shoot back fiercely, “You are my fated mate!”
She freezes mid-step, the weight of those words crashing down around us like a meteor shower—beautiful but devastating. Her breath hitches for just a moment before she shakes her head slowly.
“It doesn’t change anything.” Her whisper slices through the air as she turns away from me completely.
Devastation floods through me like ice water coursing through my veins. I watch her walk further into the darkness of the jungle, each step driving another nail into my heart. It feels wrong—everything about this moment feels wrong.
“Emry!” I call after her, but it sounds weak even to my ears.
What have I done?
