The faintest shafts of light crept through the cracks in the boarded-up windows, barely enough to see by.
“Sit down,” I said, my voice softer but firm.
Asher didn’t argue, sinking to the floor with a wince, his back against the wall.
His head tipped back, eyes closing for a moment, but even in his exhaustion, he didn’t look relaxed.
I crouched beside him, scanning the room for anything we could use. A weapon, a hiding spot, anything.
The shop was empty, just bare shelves and broken furniture. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than the open streets.
“We’ll stay here until they pass,” I said, more to myself than to him.
Asher cracked one eye open, his lips pulling into a weak smirk. “You think they’ll just give up?”
I didn’t answer.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ASHER
Gael slammed the door shut behind us, wedging a broken piece of wood against it to serve as a makeshift brace.
My breath came in short, shallow bursts, each one dragging against my ribs.
The adrenaline from our narrow escape was wearing off, leaving behind a wave of exhaustion and the relentless throb in my injured leg.
Gael’s silhouette was a blur in the dim light filtering through the broken boards of the windows. He didn’t move, didn’t speak.
Just stood there, his back to me, as if the tension coiled in his body might snap and tear the world apart if he so much as twitched.
The silence stretched, heavy and fragile, like a glass ready to shatter. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Well, that was fun,” I muttered, my voice raw and strained.
Gael’s shoulders twitched, a barely perceptible reaction that told me he’d heard me loud and clear.
He turned, his movements deliberate. His eyes as cold as ever, unreadable in a way that frustrated me more than I cared to admit.
“Fun isn’t the word I’d use,” he said dryly, his gaze dropping to my injured leg.
Before I could respond, Gael crouched in front of me, his movements quick and precise.
His fingers brushed against my calf, and I flinched at the contact, a sharp wince escaping before I could bite it back.
“Easy,” he murmured.
His touch was cold, like I expected, but there was a gentleness to it that completely threw me off balance.
How someone who could tear through a group of hunters without breaking a sweat could be so careful now was beyond me.
“Let me see it,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I wanted to tell him to fuck off, to pull away and put some distance between us.
Instead, I hesitated, my pride battling against the logic that screamed I needed help.
Finally, I relented, shifting awkwardly to give him a better view.
