Chapter 144 Five Minutes

Chapter 144 Five Minutes
Molly looked at him.

She stared at him.

For several seconds, she couldn't find a single word that felt big enough for the man standing in front of her.

He'd spoken so calmly.

So matter-of-factly.

As though teaching his own daughter to hunt and kill wasn't twisted beyond belief.

As though everything he'd done, everything she'd witnessed, could somehow be justified.

Her stomach churned.

She searched his face for doubt, for regret, for any sign that this was some cruel joke. She found none.

The realization settled over her like ice.

"You..." Her voice faltered before hardening. "You're insane."

The words hung between them.

Clark didn't answer immediately.

His gaze lingered on her, steady and unreadable.

For the briefest moment, something flickered across his face. It was so quick she almost convinced herself she'd imagined it: pain, disappointment. Maybe even pity.

Then it was gone.

The corner of his mouth lifted into a faint smile.

There was no humor in it.

No warmth.

Only the quiet certainty of a man who believed he was right, no matter what anyone else thought.

He straightened to his full height, looking down at her.

"If believing the truth makes me insane," he said softly, "then perhaps sanity was never worth much to begin with."

He raised his hand to touch her shoulder and she slapped it away.

"There are things you need to know," he shrugged and pulled his hand back. "About this world and what lives in it and how to survive it. Your mother moved through it with magic. I move through it differently." He looked at Zion on the ground and back at her. "You carry both. You need to understand both."

Molly said nothing.

He looked at the trees to the north and his expression shifted back as he looked to be concentrating.

"You need to move," he suddenly said. "People are coming from the north. Five minutes, maybe less."

She looked at the trees and heard nothing and looked back at him.

"How do you know that?"

"Because I set the perimeter myself and I know when it's been crossed and in which direction." He looked at Zion. "He'll live. I know the anatomy well enough to miss what matters. I didn't put it in his heart." He paused. "Get him up. Go south. Stay in the tree cover and don't move onto open ground until you're past the river."

He spoke like a man used to giving orders in places where hesitation got people killed.

Molly didn't answer, she only looked at him. Then, without warning, Daniel's face filled her mind. The way he'd looked, how he'd laughed because she'd accidentally burned breakfast, stealing fries from her plate when he thought she wasn't looking. Calling her Mol in that irritating voice he'd used since they were children.

She'd spent years pretending she hated the nickname. He'd spent years pretending to believe her, but now, she'd never hear it again. Her chest tightened.

Daniel was gone.

Buried and cold.

And the man standing in front of her wasn't grieving with her.

He was giving directions.

'Go south.' Was all he could say to her, as though losing Daniel was another obstacle to navigate, as though grief could wait until after survival.

She looked from the blood on her hands to her father's face, Molly didn't know which hurt more.

That Daniel was dead...

Or that her father expected her to keep walking.

She crouched beside Zion.

"Can you stand?"

His jaw worked. "Yes."

She got her arm around him and pulled him to his knees. She turned them south and started moving.

"Molly," Clark called out.

She did not stop.

"I'm going to finish what I started," Clark said, and his voice echoed through the trees after her. "Every werewolf in this city. Starting from the ones that survived tonight." A pause. "The same way I did with that pack."

Zion went rigid against her side. That last part was a jab at him.

Molly felt it go through him, his full-body response, she just tightened her grip on him and kept moving.

"He gave them everything," Zion said, low and through his teeth. "The silver rounds. The entry points. He's the reason the police knew exactly what to do when they went in." His breathing was uneven. 

"I know," she steered him through the roots of the trees.

"Molly—"

"I know." She kept walking. "Keep moving."

He stopped.

Molly looked at him, she saw him staring into the trees, his jaw tight, every muscle in his body coiled.

He wanted to go back.

"He missed your heart on purpose," she added.

Zion didn't answer.

"He knows exactly where to stab." Her voice softened, but never wavered. "He wanted to slow you down, not kill you."

His eyes stayed fixed on the darkness ahead.

"Five minutes," she continued. "That's what he said. He wants you walking, not fighting."

Silence stretched between them.

Molly watched him wrestle with himself. She knew that look. Every instinct in him wanted to turn around and finish what had started back there.

Instead, he took a slow breath.

Then another.

Finally, he nodded.

"Okay."

The single word was rough, but it was enough.

He shifted more of his weight onto her, and together they kept moving.

Neither of them looked back.

The forest swallowed the sounds behind them until all Molly could hear was the crunch of leaves beneath their feet and Zion's uneven breathing.

After another minute, he reached for the dagger.

She caught the movement from the corner of her eye.

"You ready?" she asked quietly.

He looked at her.

She gave a small nod.

Zion wrapped his fingers around the handle and pulled.

A sharp, broken groan tore from his throat.

His whole body jerked, nearly folding in on itself as blood spilled down the front of his shirt.

Molly tightened her grip around him before he could fall.

"Easy," she whispered. "I've got you."

He stood there for a second, breathing hard through clenched teeth, and looked down at the bloodied blade in his hand. Without a word, he tossed it into the undergrowth, and the blade disappeared beneath the leaves.

His breathing slowly began to settle.

The wound was still ugly, but she could already see it changing. The bleeding had slowed, and his steps grew steadier with each passing minute.

Wolf healing.

It was happening right in front of her.

She didn't mention it, she simply stayed beside him, letting him lean on her whenever he needed to.

As they walked, her thoughts drifted back to her father. The way he'd spoken about hunting as though it were no different from teaching someone to read.

She shivered.

The man she'd spent years wondering about had finally returned, and somehow, she wished he'd stayed gone.

Ahead, beyond the trees, she could hear the faint rush of water from the river. It wasn't safety. Not yet, but it was somewhere else.

Somewhere farther away from Clark Marsh.

Molly tightened her hold on Zion, but neither of them spoke, they simply kept walking.