Chapter 31 Chapter 31

Chapter 31 Chapter 31
Smoke curled from the pistol’s muzzle. Nina stood frozen, ears ringing. Adrian holstered the weapon, grabbed his pack, and turned to her.
“Time’s up,” he said. “We go through the vineyard, not the road.”
She nodded, throat tight. The air smelled of gunpowder and rain.
They stepped outside into the fog. The vines dripped silver in the pale light, rows leading down toward the valley like lines on a map. Somewhere beyond, engines growled to life.
Adrian caught her hand. “Stay close.”
“I’m not letting go.”
They ran. Mud clung to their boots, breath coming in white clouds. Shots cracked behind them, dull through the mist. Each one seemed closer.
Nina stumbled once; Adrian’s grip hauled her upright. They didn’t speak. The world had narrowed to motion—the slap of footsteps, the rasp of lungs, the relentless climb toward the trees.
When they reached the far fence, he boosted her over, then followed, wincing as his wounded arm caught. On the other side the forest waited, dark and dripping.
They paused only long enough to catch breath. Rain beaded on his lashes; blood smeared his sleeve.
“Still think we can’t make the junction?” he asked, half-smiling.
“Now I’m sure we have to,” she said.
They slipped into the trees, leaving the vineyard behind. Below, the shouts of the pursuers faded, swallowed by distance and fog. The house where they’d almost felt safe was a smudge of grey against the hillside.
For the first time, Nina didn’t look back.
Ahead, the forest closed around them, damp and green, each step taking them deeper into whatever waited next.
The forest swallowed them whole.
Rain hissed through the leaves, a steady whisper that drowned out everything except the rush of her heartbeat. The light was thin, greenish, filtered through layers of mist. Every branch seemed to reach for her, catching at her sleeves as she ran.
Adrian’s breath rasped behind her. She could hear the pain in it—the cut reopening, his body running on sheer will. But he didn’t slow, and neither did she. Somewhere far behind, dogs barked. A voice shouted, sharp and guttural. The hunt had begun again.
“This way,” he called softly, pointing left. “The slope breaks near the stream.”
Nina nodded, following the faint path he carved between the trunks. Mud sucked at their boots; water dripped from the canopy like cold fingers. Her legs ached, lungs burning, but fear pushed her forward.
Each crack of a branch behind them sounded closer.
They reached the stream—a thin, fast-moving ribbon of water cutting through black stone. Adrian knelt, wiping their tracks with handfuls of wet leaves. “Downstream,” he said. “It’ll scatter the scent.”
They waded in, the cold biting up through her bones. The current pulled at her legs, but Adrian caught her arm, steadying her. “Stay in the middle,” he whispered. “It hides us.”
She looked back once. The forest was a blur of grey and motion. A flashlight beam flickered somewhere behind, briefly catching the mist before vanishing again. Her stomach clenched. They were closer than she’d thought.
“Adrian—”
“I see them,” he said. “Keep moving.”
They followed the stream until it widened into a shallow pool beneath an overhanging rock. Adrian motioned her down, crouching low behind the curtain of vines that hung over the edge. The air smelled of moss and rain.
They waited.
Minutes stretched into something slower than time. The dogs’ barking drew nearer, then fainter, then near again. Nina held her breath as two shadows passed along the opposite bank. The men spoke quietly, their flashlights sweeping the water. The beams skimmed over the vines, a blur of light a few metres away.
Adrian’s hand found hers, steady, silent.
The light moved on. The voices faded.
They waited until even the sound of the rain drowned everything else.
Then Adrian exhaled, long and quiet. “They’ve split their line. Half went west.”
“Half?”
“Means the others will loop back. We go north now, keep the water between us and the road.”
He tried to stand and winced. Blood had soaked through the bandage again. Nina caught his elbow, forcing him to lean on her. “You won’t make it far like that.”
“I’ll make it far enough.”
She looked at him—mud-streaked, pale, breathing hard—and felt something twist inside her. “You don’t have to prove you’re indestructible.”
He gave a tired smile. “You keep saying that.”
“Because you keep forgetting.”
They followed the stream north, moving more slowly now. The rain thinned to a drizzle. Each step squelched, soft but loud in the silence. When they finally reached higher ground, the forest opened into a ridge lined with tall ferns. The air was colder here, the mist thicker.
Adrian stopped. “We rest.”
Nina wanted to argue, but didn’t. He slid down against a tree trunk, chest heaving. She sat beside him, both of them drenched and trembling.
After a long silence, she said, “You shouldn’t have gone back for me at the vineyard.”
He turned his head toward her. “You think I could have left?”
“You’ve done worse things.”
“Not to you.”
Something in the way he said it made her chest tighten. She looked at him—the dark circles under his eyes, the cut on his cheek—and for the first time she realised how close he was to breaking. And how much he refused to show it.
She reached out and touched his wrist, a small, quiet gesture. “We’ll make it,” she said.
He met her gaze. “You sound sure.”
“I have to.”
“Then I’ll believe you,” he said, and closed his eyes.
The forest held its breath around them. No dogs, no voices now—only the faint hiss of rain fading into mist. For a while, they sat without moving, the warmth between their shoulders the only proof they were still alive.
“Why me?” she asked suddenly. “Out of everyone you could have dragged into this, why me?”
He opened his eyes slowly. “Because you didn’t look away.”
“From what?”
“From me.”
She didn’t know what to say to that, so she didn’t. She just leaned her head back against the tree, letting the silence fill the spaces between their words.