Chapter 12

Feya’s POV

The rumble of the engine beneath me, the steady hum of the tyres on slick roads, the cold air rushing past my window—all of it felt distant, as though I wasn’t even in the car anymore. My body was exhausted, a taut string pulled too tight, threatening to snap under the weight of everything. The sedative that had been coursing through my veins had worn off, leaving me drained and weak, but the sense of urgency in Killian’s movements was the only thing keeping me tethered to the present.

But as my eyes drifted closed again, I could feel the car’s speed increasing. Killian was pushing us farther and farther from the pack, farther from the only place that I had ever called home. His grip on the wheel was tight, knuckles white from the strain. I could tell he was doing everything he could to block out the world around him, but the tension in his jaw, the clenched teeth—everything about him screamed that he was running from something.

I knew him well enough to recognize the signs.

This wasn’t just about getting me away from danger; this was about him, too. Running away from something deeper than I could understand. And damn it, I wasn’t going to sit here and let him drag me into this madness.

His eyes flickered toward me, and I could see the concern clouding his expression. His gaze, full of guilt and protectiveness, made my heart ache, but I wasn’t fooled. I had spent too long running away from my battles, too long hiding from the war that was coming for us. The pack needed us. The people we cared about needed us.

I wasn't going to leave them behind, not for anyone, especially not for Killian.

Enough was enough.

"Stop the damn car," I spat, my voice raw, the words thick with a sudden surge of frustration.

His head snapped in my direction, his eyes wide, but before he could speak, I had already grabbed the steering wheel. His grip slipped from it in surprise, and the car veered dangerously off course. The tyres screeched as I yanked the wheel to the side, the car skidding for a split second before I fought to regain control. The sudden movement jerked my body in the seat, and I could hear his frantic breath beside me.

“Feya, what the hell—!” His voice broke off as the car swerved again, tires skimming dangerously close to the edge of the road.

“Stop. The. Car.” I gritted out through clenched teeth, barely holding onto the wheel. My hands trembled from exhaustion, but my resolve was stronger than the pain in my chest. I wasn’t going to let him drag me into this.

I saw his hands tighten around the wheel again as I forced the car to slow, but my eyes burned with anger. Every part of me was raw, exposed. I wasn’t just angry at him—I was angry at myself for letting him think this was the only choice. That we had to run away.

“Feya, what are you doing?” His voice was sharp now, the same sharpness that always pierced the walls I’d built up around myself. I could feel the confusion radiating off him, the disbelief that I would do something like this.

“I’m not running, Killian,” I said, my voice low but strong. "I’m not going to let you run away from the war we have to fight. I’m not going to sit by while you push me away to save your damn conscience."

For a moment, the tension between us thickened. His jaw clenched, and I could see the battle raging inside him.

“Feya, this is for your safety. You’re not well. You’re still too weak—”

“I don’t care,” I snapped, cutting him off. I was done listening to him. Done letting him make decisions for me. “I’m not going to hide while everything I care about is falling apart. I’m not going to let you run away, Killian.”

The words burned my tongue, but they felt so damn good coming out. There was no turning back now.

I didn’t wait for him to respond. Without thinking, I shoved open the door on his side of the car, my hand trembling from the force of my actions. His eyes widened in shock as I gripped the handle and threw the door open.

"Get out," I ordered, my voice louder now, more forceful.

"Feya, what are you—" Killian’s voice cracked with disbelief. He reached for the door, his hand still holding onto the frame, but I wasn’t letting him off that easy.

“I said get out,” I repeated, my voice lower, but no less firm. “I’m not going anywhere without you, Killian. You’re not doing this to me anymore. You can either stay with me and fight, or you can get out.”

The car was still rolling, the engine humming under my fingertips as I kept my grip tight on the wheel. I could feel the tension in my body, my hands shaking from everything I was holding in. My heart was hammering, my chest tight, but I wasn’t backing down.

Killian stared at me for a long moment, his face a mix of shock, frustration, and disbelief. I could see the emotions swirling in his eyes, the conflict tearing him apart, but I wasn’t about to give in.

“Feya, don’t—” His words broke off as he realized I wasn’t going to let this go. His hand left the door frame, and I saw his fingers clench into fists, his body bracing as though he were preparing to argue.

“You think this is easy for me, too?” I choked out, my voice suddenly quieter. The anger was still there, but now it was mixed with something deeper—something that made me feel small and vulnerable, but I refused to show it. I refused to let him see that part of me.

He glanced out the window, then back at me, and I could feel the heat in his gaze, the anger in the way he looked at me. “You think I don’t want to stop?” he muttered under his breath. “But I’m doing this because I don’t want to lose you, Feya.”

His voice was softer now, tinged with guilt and pain, but I was done with that. I wasn’t going to let him shelter me from the world. I wasn’t going to run anymore.

“Then stop the car and face it with me,” I said, my tone fierce. “Stop treating me like I’m some fragile thing that can’t make a choice. I’m not weak, Killian. I’m still here. I’m still alive, and I’m not going to let you drag me into the shadows while everyone else fights. We fight this together. You don’t get to make this decision for me.”

For a moment, there was silence in the car, broken only by the wind and the faint hum of the engine. His face softened slightly, but his gaze was still conflicted, torn between the fear of losing me and the reality of the danger we were facing.

I held my breath as I waited for him to respond. Would he finally see reason? Would he finally stop running?

But instead of answering, his hand shot out with surprising speed. His fingers grabbed the door handle with force and before I could react, he yanked the door shut with a heavy slam. The force of the action made my breath catch in my throat, but I didn’t flinch. I just kept my gaze steady and focused.

“No,” he said, his voice low, fierce, and laced with an anger I hadn’t expected. “I’m not leaving you behind, Feya. I’m not running. But neither are you.”

I watched him, my heart twisting painfully in my chest. He had it all wrong.

“I’m not asking you to run, Killian,” I whispered, my voice softer now, but no less determined. “I’m asking you to stay and fight with me. For us. For the pack.”

His hands tightened on the wheel as he exhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his emotions. But before I could say anything else, his expression hardened again, and his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror.

“We’re going back,” he said firmly. The words were like a promise, a command that sent a shiver down my spine. He wasn’t backing down.

I swallowed hard, my chest tight with the intensity of the moment. I wasn’t ready for this. Not yet. But I didn’t have a choice anymore.

I nodded, just once, and he spun the wheel with force, the car jerking back onto the road, back in the direction we had just come from.

I needed something to fill the void.

Reaching over, I flicked on the radio, the soft crackle of static filling the car for a moment before the signal cleared. The voice of the radio host cut through the air, and I listened absentmindedly as the usual chatter of the station droned on.

But then the words changed. A shift in the air.

“Breaking news: The pack is under attack. The packhouse is reported to be on fire, with multiple casualties confirmed. It is believed that enemy forces have breached the perimeter, and it is not safe for anyone remaining inside the pack's boundaries. Firefighters are on the scene, but the situation is rapidly escalating...”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. The colour drained from my face, and I could feel my heartbeat slow as my mind struggled to comprehend what I was hearing.

My pack.

The weight of the news pressed on me, smothering me as the world outside the car seemed to vanish.

On fire. The packhouse was burning. People I had known my entire life were in danger. I could see the flames in my mind’s eye—raging, consuming everything they touched. My breath hitched in my throat as the fear, the panic, started to rise inside me.

“Feya?” Killian’s voice was soft, a whisper of concern, but I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the road, the world blurring in front of me as my pulse quickened.

The news anchor continued, but I didn’t hear the rest of the report. My focus was elsewhere, scattered like shards of glass. My mind raced, visions of the pack, the people I loved, burning alive in the flames of an enemy I couldn’t see.

I swerved. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was too late.

The screech of tyres filled my ears as the steering wheel jerked out of my control, pulling me to the side of the road. I snapped back into focus, my heart thundering in my chest as I fought to regain control.

But it was too late. A car was coming toward us, headlights blinding in the dark.

I slammed my foot on the brakes, the car lurching forward with a violent force, and the tyres screamed in protest as the distance between us and the other vehicle closed in.

My chest tightened, and for one brief moment, everything seemed to slow. Time stretched out, the seconds feeling like hours.

The adrenaline was too strong. The fear of losing everything was too real.

The world rushed back into focus as I drove on, my heart racing and my breath shallow. The radio continued to play, but the words barely registered. My hands were slick with sweat, and I could still see the fire in my mind’s eye. My pack. My people.

“Feya,” Killian said again, his voice harder this time, concern lacing the edge. “You need to pull over. You’re not thinking straight. You’re too upset.”

“Shut up,” I snapped, my voice raw. My chest tightened even more at his words, but I refused to slow down. I had to get back. I had to make sure they were okay.