ela

ithout a hitch. Gus Tucker drive me away fro

aught his sympathetic gaze in the rearview mirror. He mu

rink in the mirror until it disappeared. I felt like a bird escaping it

mountain road that led to Silver Creek Shrine. The trees g

one. No signal. We

sickening cough. The vehicle shudde

d the key, but the engine sputtered and died midway. "Damn it," he muttered. "This c

in road, miles away from anywhere. A

scent in the wind. It was a bit like the smell of smoke and iron. A moment lat

ard the sound, my bod

. He was covered in blood, each step a

o the ground n

ed up, my he

as fierce as a hawk's. Even covered in filth and blood, th

was

ng. The Council's Enforcer.

heart, and for a second,

y, at this time, he was supposed to be in the capital, cr

e blood-soaked man. He instinctively moved to shiel

up my phone, showing him the la

s-or more specifically, onto our vehicle. He started

verwhelmingly aggressive aura, cold and sharp like a blizzard. It was

even an injured one. Help him? This was Duncan Simmons,

e trembling but determined as h

silver-gray eyes pierced through

ipped bare, as if he could

actions said everythi

futile attempt to protect me. The air was thick with the sound

he woods behind us, from the direc

purs

darkened. He knew

nged forward, easily shov

adowed me, so close I could feel t

down at me with those all-seeing ey

in th

her be caught by his pursuers or g

and pulled open t

his feet, and pushed him into the back

hen slid into the car myself. A d