The morning light filtered through the dense canopy, casting a muted glow on the forest floor. My side throbbed with every step, the gash from my fight with Augustus serving as a painful reminder of how close I had come to death. Behind me, Elara trudged along, her face pale and her breaths uneven. Her silence was unnerving. I glanced at her occasionally, the weight of her exhaustion tugging at me, but I kept moving forward.
We couldn't stop. Not yet.
And then I saw her.
The figure emerging from the undergrowth was unmistakable. Tall and wiry, her silhouette carried an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance. The knife in her hand glinted under the dappled sunlight, and her eyes scanned the area with sharp precision. Seraph.
I clenched my jaw. Of all the people I could have stumbled across, it had to be her. Fate seemed determined to humiliate me, throwing me into her path when I was bleeding, exhausted, and barely holding Elara together.
"Well, well," she said, her voice smooth and dripping with disdain. "Look at this sorry sight. Didn't think I'd run into anyone worth mentioning out here, but you two look like the perfect disaster."
I didn't respond immediately, and she stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized me. She didn't seem to recognize me—or at least, not enough to call me by name.
"Seraph," I said flatly, keeping my voice even.
Her smirk froze for a moment, then stretched wider. "So you know who I am," she said, tilting her head. "What about you, mystery man? Got a name to go with that bleeding face?"
I didn't answer. Silence, after all, was often more disarming than words.
"Ah, the strong, silent type," she sneered. "Cute. But you're still not as clever as you think." Her eyes flicked over to Elara, who stood stiffly behind me. "And what's this? Dead weight? You're dragging her along like she's some sort of trophy."
"Leave her out of this," I said coolly, stepping forward to block Elara from her view.
"Touchy, aren't we?" Seraph's grin sharpened, her knife twirling lazily in her hand. "Let me guess. She's the reason you look like you crawled out of a grave. Honestly, I expected more from someone who apparently knows me by name."
Elara's fists clenched at her sides, her body trembling with suppressed anger. "You don't know anything about us," she snapped, her voice shaking.
Seraph's laugh was a low, cruel sound. "I don't need to know. It's written all over your face. You're useless. A liability. And he's too blind to see it."
"That's enough," I said sharply, my tone carrying a finality that made even Seraph pause for a fraction of a second.
But then her grin returned. "Struck a nerve, have I?" she taunted. "You're just full of bad decisions, aren't you? First, dragging her around, and now—what's next? Oh, wait. Don't tell me. You've actually got badges, don't you?"
I didn't react, keeping my face carefully blank.
Her knife stilled in her hand, and her eyes locked onto mine. "You do. I can smell the desperation on you. You wouldn't be alive right now if you hadn't snagged a few."
"What about you?" I countered, my voice calm and deliberate. "You wouldn't be here without badges either. So tell me, Seraph—how many do you have?"
Her smirk faltered, just for a moment, before she laughed again. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
I said nothing, studying her. Seraph's arrogance made her predictable, and I knew better than to press her directly. She wouldn't admit anything outright, but her body language—how her fingers tightened around her knife, how her weight shifted like she was ready to bolt—told me enough.
"Elara," I said quietly, keeping my voice low enough that only she could hear. "Stay behind me."
Seraph's eyes flicked to Elara, her smirk returning. "Still playing the protector, huh? You think that'll save you out here?"
"It's saved me so far," I replied evenly.
"For now," she said, her tone mocking.
The tension between us was palpable, crackling in the air like a live wire. Seraph's gaze darted to the trees behind me, her body angling slightly toward an escape route. She thought she had the upper hand.
"Don't get too comfortable," I said, my voice cold. "You're not as clever as you think you are."
Her smile wavered briefly before hardening into a glare. "Whatever, mystery man. I don't have time for this."
She turned sharply, moving toward the trees, but then paused and glanced back over her shoulder. "What's your name, anyway? Since you're so interested in mine."
I stayed silent, letting the question hang in the air.
Her eyes narrowed, and she scoffed. "Figures. You're all bark, no bite."
Without another word, she disappeared into the undergrowth, her movements quick and deliberate.
Elara let out a shaky breath. "She's gone," she said, her voice strained.
"For now," I replied, my tone unreadable.
"You're not going after her, are you?"
I glanced at her, my expression calm and calculating. "Not yet."
Elara frowned but didn't press further. She knew better than to question me when I was in this mood.
Turning my attention back to the path Seraph had taken, I made a mental note of the direction. She thought she'd outsmarted me, but she'd underestimated how much I was willing to endure to win.
"We'll rest here for a bit," I said, gesturing to a cluster of rocks that offered some semblance of cover. "Then we'll move."
"And her?" Elara asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"We'll find her again," I said, my voice resolute. "When the time is right."
Elara didn't respond, but I could feel her unease. I didn't blame her. This wasn't over—not by a long shot.
As I settled against the rocks, my mind replayed the encounter, dissecting every word, every movement. Seraph had badges. I was certain of it. And when the opportunity came, I'd take them from her—one way or another.
For now, though, I'd let her believe she was safe.