Page 13 of Donovan
I wanted to blame him. I wanted to rage at him for throwing away everything. For turning his back on the Guild, on everything we were raised to believe.
But when I closed my eyes, all I could see was his face.
The way he had looked at Gael. Like the world had finally made sense. Like he had finally found something worth fighting for, worth dying for.
And maybe that was the real reason it burned so much. Because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to hate him for it.
I wanted to. But all I could feel was the crushing weight of failure.
Because I had let Donovan convince me to try and save him. And for what? What the hell had it even accomplished?
My men were dead. All of them.
I had failed them. I had failed Asher. I had failed myself. The anger swelled, hot and blinding, a wildfire in my chest.
I clenched my fists, teeth grinding so hard my jaw ached, the raw rage threatening to consume me, to choke me.
I wanted to hit something. To tear something apart. To burn the whole world down until there was nothing left.
But then the cold crept in. Slow. Heavy. Like a dull ache settling into my bones, into my very soul. What was the point?
What good was anger when it wouldn’t change a thing?
There was no use being mad at Donovan. It wasn’t his fault. He had begged me to help, and I had said yes. I had chosen this.
There was no use being mad at Asher. He had made his own choices, just like I had. And now, he was gone. And Gael?—
I exhaled sharply, a bitter laugh escaping before I could stop it. Gael had won. Simple as that. I had made my choices. And now, I had to live with them.
I let my head rest against the freezing ground, exhaling sharply.
Snow drifted in from the barn doors, the storm howling outside. I wasn’t going anywhere. My body wasn’t going anywhere.
A buzzing sound. I dismissed it. Probably a dying lightbulb, or maybe my own brain short-circuiting. Then I heard it again.
A sound too familiar to ignore. My phone.
Somewhere beneath my torn jacket, the device vibrated against my chest. With numb fingers, I fumbled for it, my vision darkening at the edges.
Before I could look, before I could even lift the screen. A snarl split the silence. I stiffened. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I wasn’t alone.
A rustling noise followed. From the shadows, something crawled toward me. Not like Gael.
There was no sharp suit, no knowing smirk. No calculating stare that told me he was always three steps ahead. This thing was hunger made flesh. Feral. Starving. Mindless.
Its sunken eyes locked onto me, a glint of rabid desperation flickering in their depths. I didn’t have time to react. It lunged, a blur of bone-thin limbs and snapping teeth.
I tried to roll, but the agony in my ribs exploded, hot and white, locking my body in place for a split second too long.
Too long. The thing crashed into me, jaws gaping, fangs flashing. I twisted at the last second. Its teeth slammed together, missing my throat by an inch.
A shriek tore from its throat, so high-pitched and piercing it sent a spike of pain through my skull.
Then it was scrambling toward me again, a grotesque thing moving on all fours like a rabid animal.
It was starving, and I was the only meal in sight. I had no time. No weapons. Nothing but sheer, brutal desperation. I lashed out. My knee connected with its gut. Not enough.
I grabbed a splintered plank from the floorboards, the wood rough against my bloody fingers. And I drove it into its chest.
