Page 16 of The Monster's Daughter
This is more than temporary. More than the bond. Something else is taking root, something neither of us can name, but it’s real.
And it’s about to be tested.
Because in the shadows beyond the overpass, something watches, I can sense it.
Something with scavenged flesh and rusted metal.
Looking for the green eyes of a human medic.
And it hasn’t forgotten her face.
CHAPTER 11
BELLA
“You know,” I pant, scrambling over a pile of blackened beams that crunch like brittle bones under my boots, “if you ever wanted to kill me, you could’ve just shoved me into one of these charming little death pits. Would’ve saved you the trouble of dragging me through this scenic tour of hell.”
Kage doesn’t answer. His broad back moves steadily ahead of me, shoulders rolling with each step. His pack is stacked with most of the weight, mine carrying little more than rations and the medical kit.
“Seriously,” I push, wiping sweat from my brow. “Mountain hiking, burned-out suburbs, ash storms… You’ve got a real sadistic vacation package going here. Do you get frequent flyer miles with this tour, or just a free migraine?”
Nothing.
“You’re a sadist with a mountain fetish,” I add, kicking a rock down the slope. It bounces hollow against a rusted hovercar chassis. “That’s the only explanation.”
“Quiet,” he growls.
“Oh, so hedoesspeak!” I throw my arms wide, nearly losing balance as the shale slides beneath me. “I was beginning to thinkyou’d taken a vow of silence. Very monk-like, except monks don’t usually carry giant claws and glower at everything that breathes.”
He stops abruptly. I almost run into him. He turns his head just enough for one silver eye to catch me.
“Do you ever stop talking?”
I grin, though my chest heaves with exhaustion. “Nope. Sorry. Comes with the package. You’re stuck with it.”
He huffs, low, like he’s considering whether throwing me down the slope would be worth the peace and quiet.
“Don’t tempt me,” he mutters.
And there it is—the tiniest crack in his armor. Not anger. Not dismissal. Just… weariness, threaded with something I can’t name.
My smile fades, and for a heartbeat I forget the quip on my tongue. My words have less bite now, and I know it. I’m throwing daggers made of paper. Even I don’t believe them anymore.
The suburbsof Lurax rise before us in jagged silhouettes, homes gutted and blackened, streets swallowed by ash. The air is heavy, thick with the stink of burnt insulation and melted steel. Each step feels like walking through open coffins.
Kage slows, shoulders tightening. His claws flex, scraping sparks from stone. His silence changes—it’s not dismissal this time. It’s tension. Anticipation.
We pass the skeletal remains of a playground. A swing set creaks in the wind, its seats melted into warped lumps of plastic. A slide lies twisted like a rusted spine. My stomach twists hard.
“Kage…” I start, then stop. What can I even say? “You don’t have to?—”
“I do.” His voice cuts like a blade. Final.
So I shut up. For once.
We keep walking until one house looms taller than the rest. Its roof is caved, windows blown out, but it still stands, stubborn against the ruin.
Kage freezes.
