The car ride back to town was mostly silent, except for the squeaky wipers smearing rain across the windshield. Beverly gripped the steering wheel like it owed her something—like if she let go for even a second, everything would fall apart again.Davion sat in the passenger seat, head leaned against the cold window, hoodie soaked through. His breathing had evened out, but she could still see the way his fingers twitched—like his body hadn’t realized it was safe yet.“You okay?” she asked, not looking at him.“Define ‘okay,’” he murmured.She smirked, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You hungry?”“Starving. But I don’t think I can taste anything that’s not adrenaline or blood.”“We’ll get you a burger or something. Grease fixes a lot.”They pulled into a gas station parking lot that smelled like wet asphalt and old fries. Beverly ran inside and came back with a hoodie two sizes too big, a bag of snacks, and a Gatorade. Davion stared at her like she’d hung the moon.“You steal this hoodie

The forest swallowed the remnants of moonlight, turning their soaked figures into silhouettes against the dark underbrush. Beverly leaned on Davion’s arm, each of them breathing like runners at the finish line—exhausted, raw, and alive.“Are we… safe?” she whispered, voice like a trembling leaf.Davion didn’t answer fast. He scanned the forest, chest rising and falling. The adrenaline still buzzed through him. Our fight’s just beginning, his eyes seemed to say. Finally, he nodded. “For now.”Wilson groaned, leaning backs against a gnarled tree trunk. He pressed a bloody cloth to his side. “Ribs,” he muttered. “Worth it.”Reika crouched nearby, her bow drawn but eye gentle. “Anyone see movement?”“No one,” Davion said. “We cleared the lake. They’ll think that was it—fresh chaos and we disappeared into the night.”Beverly shivered. Her teeth chattered, but the cold didn’t numb her fire. “They won’t stop, though. We hit them, but they’ll come back.”“Then we hit harder,” Davion replied.

The room stank of sweat, iron, and incense that burned too thick. Candles flickered along the concrete walls, throwing wild shadows that danced like ghosts. And in the center of it all, Mad Tiger knelt—head bowed, lip bleeding, shirt clinging to his back with sweat. Iron Hand stood over him, silent. Too silent. Which was always worse than yelling. Mad Tiger’s fingers twitched against the floor, itching to reach for the blade at his hip, but he knew better. Iron Hand didn’t tolerate mistakes. And this wasn’t just a mistake. This was Davion. Gone. Escaped. Alive. Iron Hand’s boots clicked once as he paced, gloved fingers flexing like he was warming up to break something. “Two days,” he said finally, voice low and flat. “Two days since the altar fell. Since the girl was taken from the offering table. Since Davion—” he spat the name like poison “—slipped through your hands again.” Mad Tiger didn’t speak. “I trusted you,” Iron Hand continued, his voice rising. “I let you

The town was small, weird, and kinda run-down, like a place that didn’t know if it wanted to be forgotten or found. Neon signs buzzed like flies. The sidewalks cracked under every step. There was graffiti on the walls, but not the cool kind—just names and curses and a few awful doodles.Beverly shoved her hands deep in her hoodie pockets and glanced sideways at Davion. He hadn’t said a word since they left the motel.Not one.She walked half a step behind him, studying the way his jaw clenched like he was chewing on something sharp. His hoodie was up, his eyes hidden in shadow, but she could still feel the tension rolling off him like heat waves on concrete.“You could try looking less like you’re about to kill someone,” she said finally, just to break the silence.“I’m not here to make friends,” Davion muttered.“Well, good news,” she said. “You’re nailing it.”He didn’t respond.Figures.They passed a fried chicken joint with a flickering OPEN sign. Beverly’s stomach growled like it

Beverly sat cross-legged on the motel bed, her phone plugged in beside her like it was a lifeline. The curtains were pulled tight even though it was morning. Sunlight still pushed through the edges, soft and gold and unwanted.Davion was pacing.Again.He hadn’t stopped moving since they got back. It was like his body didn’t know how to be still anymore. His hoodie was half-zipped, blood still crusted around his knuckles, and his jaw kept locking like he was biting back everything he didn’t want to say out loud.“So,” Beverly said, clicking into the group chat, “we texting the team or what?”Davion didn’t answer. He was too busy checking the door. Again. As if someone might teleport through it.“Davion,” she said.“What?”“Chill.”He turned to her, eyes dark. “We’re being hunted by a lunatic cult with military-level tech. I’m not exactly in a ‘chill’ mood.”Beverly stood up. “Okay, but if we wait around for perfect vibes, we’re gonna die of stress before they even find us. So maybe le