10. Bria

10

brIA

My lungs are on fire. The cold pierces my skin, prickling my senses with a thousand needles.

Yet, I continue to run. Because I know that if I stop — if I even dare to lull my pace — the chase is over and I’m done for.

Someone craves my blood. And they’ll pursue me to the ends of the earth to savor that need.

My heart pounds in my chest as I run. My boots kick up snow, sending it up in the air and into my nostrils. I wheeze as the frigid mountain air singes my lungs while I hurtle through the forest.

Donte is now a shadow. I’ve been so caught up in running for my life that I haven’t thought to check in on him. He’s sucking in lungfuls of air, but something about his labored breaths alerts me. I steal a glance over my shoulder.

“You’re bleeding!” I gasp. My stomach churns seeing the crimson stain on his shirt. When did he get hit? Why didn’t he say anything?

I’m desperate to search for a place where I can pull him to the side, assess if the wound will take him away from me. I can’t lose him. I can’t have him gamble his life when —

My arm is yanked forward. He is tugging me to keep running.

“I know, I’m fine,” he says through sharp breaths. “Keep going.”

I dart my eyes from his chest to the terrain ahead. Like when I first woke up, there’s nothing but trees for as far as I can see. And then, I glance at him, and I recognize the pain he must be in.

If he wants us to keep pushing on, that must mean he thinks that is our only hope .

Despite the dull pang in my chest, I know that I have to bury my emotions. That I have to focus on one goal and one goal only— getting out of here.

I lift feet that weigh heavier than lead, and run faster than I ever have. The momentum carries me for longer than I expect, but not forever. Eventually, Donte and I are choking on freezing air and have to slow to recharge.

I slump against a tree trunk. Donte is standing inches apart from me, hands planted on his knees as he’s hunched over. Even while he’s hurt, he looks so much stronger than me. I want to find the energy to jump up and embrace him. But my bottom slides to the ground, and I’m stuck in place. My throat is too parched for me to even speak.

Donte passes me a flask of water, and I take a sip. At least, I planned to— I’m so exhausted and out of it that I wind up chugging half the bottle. Shaking, I hand the rest to Donte. He gulps it down before standing up straight.

“Bria, I need you to listen to me,” he addresses me evenly. “It’s important. Do you see the smoke up ahead?”

I squint at the skyline. Through the dark, it’s hard to make out silhouettes that stretch farther than a few feet. I have to strain my eyes for a moment before I see what he’s referencing, a soft plume of smoke in the distance.

Bobbing my head, I reply, “Yes. I see it.”

Donte squares his shoulders. “Good. That’s going to be the Winchesters’ home. No matter what happens, head there and don’t stop.”

I frown at the blood on his shirt. “Okay, but you’re coming with me, right?”

He averts my gaze. “I’m going to stay here and hold them off.”

Just like that, my world crashes in. “No, you can’t! Look, you’re already hurt.” I scramble to grasp his hand in mine, but he steps away.

He doesn’t even look at me. He stares at the ground and his jaw clenches.

“You have to understand me, Bria. The people are after you, and I’m only slowing you down.”

I shake my head. “No, you don’t have to be the hero, your time to find happiness is now, with me!”

“I can take care of myself and I’ll be fine.” Finally, he looks straight into my eyes. His hands ball into fists at his sides. “Get going while there’s still distance between us and the attackers. I’ll hold them off as long as I can.”

His plan is ridiculous. It’s hard to accept his reasoning when he’s bleeding God-knows-how-much. And he expects to fend off gunmen? There’s something else happening here. It’s like payback or retribution for something. I can see the determination, but not the reasoning.

I don’t know how I’m supposed to leave him. If I turn my back, am I not practically waving the flag for him to die? To let him give up his own body as a defense?

Tears soak my vision. I stagger to hold him, but I freeze. In the backdrop, a fleet of footsteps grows louder. They’re approaching fast and probably furious.

I have to decide now. Either I do what brought me here in the first place, or I stay.

I grasp for his hand. He recoils, refusing to budge.

He won’t leave with me.

So, as badly as it pains my heart…

I’ll have to leave him.