Chapter 42 Moments In The Dark
The first morning after his tent, everything felt strange.
Not in a way anyone else would notice.
The caravan moved as it always did—slow, grinding forward over dirt and stone, wheels creaking, guards shifting in rotation, voices low and familiar. Nothing had changed.
But I felt it in my bones.
My body no longer ached the same way. The sharp, constant pull in my legs had dulled to something manageable. My steps were steadier. My breathing easier.
And that alone unsettled me.
Because it had been his doing.
He had given me medicine of sorts.
I kept my gaze lowered as I walked beside the wagon, veil in place, posture small. No one looking at me would think anything had changed.
No one would think I had slept in a commander’s bed without fear.
No one would think he had touched me without taking.
My fingers curled tightly into my skirts. I wished he hadn’t. It would have been easier.
Cruelty I understood. Kindness—careful, deliberate restraint—felt far more dangerous.
“Move up.”
The order came from one of his men. I looked at the guard, expectant.
He repeated it, glaring at me.
I resisted the urge to sigh. More than a month of travel, and they still weren’t aware that some of us had extra needs? I wasn’t surprised. These monsters cared for nothing but their satisfaction.
I do not hear you, I signed slowly.
His eyes narrowed at my hands, but he grunted and walked off. I watched him go, wondering why I’d been asked to move to the front of the caravan.
Was it Elias?
The guard returned with another who’d given me signed orders before. He repeated it. I nodded slowly.
I got up and obeyed without hesitation, feeling the shift ripple through the others. Their eyes followed me as I was guided forward again, placed closer to the front wagons.
Closer to him.
Closer to where the guards lingered too long.
~~~~~
Days in the front wagons made things clearer. Perhaps because I was closer. Perhaps because I had something to compare it to.
The men here were worse than the guards in the back.
The wagon ahead rocked slightly as it moved. The canvas had been tied poorly, leaving a gap just wide enough.
My gaze caught on it.
A hand braced against the wooden frame inside. A body shifting beneath another. A muffled sound, swallowed too quickly.
My stomach turned. I looked away immediately. Heat rose under my skin, not from embarrassment, but from something colder. Fear.
This wasn’t hidden or careful. It was routine.
I looked away. Too late. The image lingered anyway. My throat tightened as I slowed my steps, creating distance without drawing notice.
Did he know?
The thought came unbidden. My gaze lifted, finding him without meaning to.
Elias stood ahead, speaking with one of his men, posture composed, attention sharp.
Did he see this too? Did he hear it? Or did he choose not to?
The question settled uneasily in my chest.
Because I didn’t know which answer disturbed me more.
If he didn’t know, then he wasn’t as aware as I’d believed.
If he did—then he was letting it happen.
My fingers curled tightly into my skirts. I forced my gaze away. It didn’t matter. He didn’t matter.
~~~~~
That night, something in the air shifted.
I felt it heavy on my chest, a weight I couldn’t shake off.
The guards were sharper, quieter, watching the dark as if expecting it to move.
The omegas huddled closer together, their silence heavier than before. Two were missing.
No one spoke of it. They never did.
I sat with my back against the wagon, arms loosely wrapped around myself. My eyes burned with exhaustion, but I didn’t sleep. Not fully. Not anymore.
A shadow passed behind me.
Then a hand closed lightly around my wrist. I reacted before I could stop myself, breath catching. But the grip tightened just enough to steady me, not restrain.
I turned.
Elias.
No words.
He released my wrist and stepped toward the tree line. A subtle tilt of his head.
Come.
My pulse quickened. This was reckless. Too visible. Too dangerous. And yet, I followed.
The trees swallowed us, shadows deepening, the sounds of the caravan dulling to something distant and indistinct. The air felt colder here, quieter, as though the world had narrowed to just this space.
Just us.
He stopped when we were far enough. Turned to face me.
For a moment, he said nothing. Just looked. Not the distant, controlled observation he wore in the open. Something closer. Searching.
His hands moved.
Are you well? The baby?
Simple.
My throat tightened. I nodded. A lie. He didn’t look convinced. His gaze flicked briefly to my legs, my posture, then back to my face.
A pause.
We’ll reach a village soon. Two days. Maybe less.
My breath stilled.
His movements slowed.
If we are being followed… I may send you ahead.
The words settled slowly. Too slowly. My brows furrowed. Ahead? What was he implying?
With a man I trust. He will take you to the border.
Something in my chest tightened sharply. Too fast. Too sudden. My hand moved before I could stop it, fingers catching the edge of his sleeve.
A small movement. But it stilled him.
My breath faltered as I realized what I’d done. My grip loosened, but didn’t fully pull away. The faint crease deepened between my brows. Uncontrolled.
I shook my head. The idea of being handed off, of being led by someone else, away from the one person who had—my chest tightened.
I didn’t finish the thought. Couldn’t.
His gaze dropped briefly to my hand, then rose again. Understanding flickered. Something softer. His hand lifted slowly, settling lightly over mine. Not pulling, not forcing. Just… there. Warm. Steady.
A pause. Wind shifted my veil.
I gave you my word, he signed, slower now. You will reach the border safely.
My chest tightened. The promise should have reassured me. It didn’t. Not entirely. Because it came with distance. Separation. An end.
His grip shifted slightly. Steadier.
I will see it done.
My gaze flickered to his hand, then back to his face. No hesitation. No doubt. Quiet certainty. Something twisted painfully in my chest. Because I believed him. And I shouldn’t.
Slowly, I nodded.
His hand lingered a moment longer, then released mine. The absence felt immediate.
He didn’t step back. Not yet.
For a moment, we remained like that—the space between us thinner than it had any right to be. I felt the warmth of him, the steadiness of his breath, and caught the brief dip of his gaze toward my mouth before it returned to my eyes.
My breath caught.
He noticed. Of course he did. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, as if restraining something. His hand lifted—not quite reaching, not quite pulling away.
A question. A mistake waiting to happen.
I stayed still, neither inviting nor denying him.
For a single, suspended moment, it felt like he might close the distance. Like he might forget who I was. Who HE was.
Then—a twig snapped somewhere behind us.
Elias stepped back first, cleared his throat, and nodded.
Go back to the wagon and rest, he signed stiffly.
I nodded, looking away. The trees thinned as we returned. Elias stepped ahead first, putting distance between us before we broke fully into the open. By the time I emerged from the shadows, he was already back where he belonged—commander, untouchable, unreachable.
As if nothing had happened.
The space between us felt colder for it. I lowered my gaze and moved back toward the wagons. Blend in. Disappear. Forget.
If I might have to run—
A few steps in, the feeling of being watched returned. Instinct. I slowed. Then a figure stepped into my path. Too sudden. Too close.
My pulse spiked, but my body stilled on instinct alone. The guard tilted his head, studying me. Up close, I was certain now. I had never seen him before.