The sun had risen high, but its warmth felt far removed from the chill that had settled in Élodie's bones. Hours had passed since they arrived at Suzanne's cottage, and the healer had worked tirelessly to staunch Liam's wound. He was still unconscious, his body fighting the infection with every breath, but there was a steady pulse in his veins that kept Élodie from spiraling into despair.
As Suzanne prepared another dose of herbal medicine for him, Élodie stepped outside for a moment to clear her mind. The village was still unnervingly quiet, the air thick with the kind of stillness that made every footstep feel like an intrusion. Élodie's footsteps echoed down the narrow stone path that wound through the village. She paused, her eyes scanning the familiar buildings, the cottages where her childhood memories once lived, now transformed by the weight of war.
The wind stirred the wild grasses at the edge of the village, bending them into patterns that felt almost like whispers—whispers of those who had already fallen to the fight. Her heart tightened as she thought of the lives lost, the families torn apart. Her father's empty chair at the table seemed to haunt every corner of her mind. Luc's face flashed before her eyes, his gaze always so full of determination, always so intent on the fight. She'd known him since childhood, but now, his presence seemed both comforting and suffocating.
"How many more will we lose before this is over?" she wondered aloud, her voice carrying across the silent space, swallowed by the wind.
A creak of the cottage door behind her broke her reverie. She turned to see Luc standing in the doorway, his figure framed by the dark interior. His brow was furrowed, his eyes shadowed with worry. Élodie's heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to remain still, to not give in to the flood of emotions that seemed to rise unbidden.
"Élodie," Luc's voice was low, strained. "We need to talk."
She could feel the weight of his words before they were even spoken. His tone was heavy with something she couldn't quite place—an unease, a warning, perhaps even suspicion.
Without responding, she turned and walked back toward the cottage, her pace deliberate but slow. Luc followed in silence, the air between them thick with the tension of unsaid things.
Once inside, Élodie moved to Liam's side, her hand instinctively reaching for his. Suzanne stood nearby, looking as calm as ever despite the grave situation. She seemed unfazed by the storm that was brewing in the room.
Luc didn't sit. He simply stood there, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on Élodie. His eyes were sharp, like a hawk's, and they never left her face. She could feel his gaze boring into her, and for the first time, she wasn't sure if it was because of his concern or something darker—something that had been festering beneath the surface for weeks.
"Suzanne, is he stable?" Luc asked, his voice breaking through the charged silence.
"Stable enough to survive," Suzanne replied, her tone impassive. "But he needs rest. And more care than I can give him here. The fever's still high. If it doesn't break soon, we'll have more than just the bullet to worry about."
Luc's gaze flickered to Élodie then, an unspoken question hanging in the air. His eyes narrowed slightly, and she felt a coldness begin to spread inside her.
"Élodie," Luc began slowly, as if testing the waters of her reaction. "You've been hiding something. I know you."
Her breath caught, a nervous flutter in her chest. The truth of what she had been keeping from him, from everyone, pressed heavily against her. The lies, the secrecy—it was all coming to a head now.
"I don't know what you mean," she replied, though the words tasted bitter as they left her lips. She knew he could see through her façade, knew that the deception could only go on for so long.
Luc's gaze softened for a moment, but the intensity never left his eyes. "You've been risking everything—our everything—for him, haven't you?"
There it was. The accusation, sharp and cutting, though it was wrapped in a layer of concern. She couldn't deny it, not to him, not when he saw her so clearly. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to admit it aloud. Not yet. Not when every word felt like a betrayal.
"Luc, it's complicated," she said, her voice trembling, despite her best efforts to sound firm. "He's… he's part of something much bigger than any of us. I couldn't leave him behind."
Luc took a step forward, his presence filling the small room. His voice dropped lower, and there was an edge to it now. "And what exactly is he to you, Élodie? Because from where I stand, it looks like you're willing to put everything at risk for someone who isn't even from here."
She flinched, though she tried to mask it. The words stung. They were too close to the truth she couldn't deny.
Liam Hart wasn't just a stranger to her—he was a part of a future she could no longer turn away from. But how could she explain that to Luc? How could she make him understand the way her heart had shifted, the way her loyalty had divided itself between the men she had loved for different reasons?
Before she could respond, Suzanne's voice broke in, steady and calm. "Enough, both of you," she said, her eyes moving between them with quiet authority. "Now is not the time for these questions. You will have plenty of time for answers later. Right now, we focus on keeping him alive."
There was a long pause, the weight of their unspoken truths hanging in the air like smoke. Finally, Luc nodded stiffly, though his eyes lingered on Élodie, filled with unspoken words. The silence stretched thin, a razor's edge between them.
Élodie's heart raced, a storm brewing inside her as she watched Luc turn to leave. She hadn't known it would come to this—to her own choices being held under a microscope. But as he reached the door, he paused, looking back over his shoulder, his expression unreadable.
"I'll be at the safe house," he said quietly. "I'll give you time, Élodie. But this won't go away."
And with that, he was gone, leaving her alone in the dim cottage with only the soft crackle of the fire and the strained breath of Liam to fill the silence.
Later that evening, Élodie sat beside Liam once again, her hand holding his as she whispered words of comfort, words she wasn't sure he could hear. The room was dark now, save for the faint light from the hearth. Suzanne had left her to tend to other matters, leaving Élodie in her own thoughts. Outside, the wind had begun to howl, and the first stars were appearing in the sky, distant and cold.
Her mind swirled with questions she couldn't answer. What was she supposed to do now? Was she risking everything for a man whose future was uncertain? Could she betray the people she cared about for something that might not even last?
But then her fingers tightened around Liam's, and she knew in that moment that no matter what came next, she couldn't leave him to die in the wild. She had to believe in the possibility of a future—a future that felt as fragile as the flickering flame in front of her, but worth fighting for all the same.