Chapter 31 Chapter 31: Closer Than You Think.

Chapter 31 Chapter 31: Closer Than You Think.

 The howl still rang in my ears—Elena’s voice so close it felt like she’d spoken against the back of my neck.
“Run faster, my daughter… She’s closer than you think. ”We didn’t wait to find out how close. Kieran grabbed Lyra under the arms and lifted her like she weighed nothing. Her head lolled against his shoulder; the bandage on her side was black now, soaked through.

I ran beside him, one hand on her back to steady her, the other clutching the flashlight. The beam jerked wildly, painting the tunnel walls in stuttering white.
Behind us the boots were louder—organized now, not panicked. Elara had called reinforcements. I could hear the low crackle of comms, clipped orders, and the occasional metallic click of a blade being drawn or sheathed.
My lungs burned. The cold from the blood draw wasn’t just in my veins anymore; it had spread to my chest, my arms, like frost creeping over glass. Every time I tried to reach for the wolf inside me it slipped away—snarling, furious, but muffled. Distant. The runes were winning.
Kieran glanced back once—gold eyes flashing—and swore under his breath. “They’re gaining.” We hit the junction again—the three paths we’d passed earlier. Fresh air to the left, old blood straight ahead, machine oil and faint heat to the right.
“Right,” Kieran said without hesitation. “Arena mechanicals. More cover. More exits. ”I didn’t argue. We veered right. The tunnel sloped downward sharply. Pipes ran along the ceiling now, hissing faintly, dripping condensation.
The air smelled of oil and rust and something older—stone soaked in blood years ago and never quite clean again. Lyra moaned against Kieran’s shoulder. Her fingers clutched weakly at his shirt. “Finn…” she breathed. “Tell him…”“You tell him,” I said fiercely. “When we get him out. You’re telling him yourself.”
She tried to nod. Couldn’t. We rounded another bend and the tunnel widened into a long, low-ceilinged corridor lined with massive boilers—cold now, silent giants. Rusted catwalks crisscrossed overhead. A narrow metal staircase spiraled up to a platform near the ceiling.
Maintenance access, probably to the arena sub-levels. Kieran set Lyra down gently against a boiler. She slumped immediately, head lolling. I dropped beside her, checked her pulse—thready, too fast. Her skin was clammy.“She’s going into shock,” I said.Kieran crouched on her other side. He tore another strip from what was left of his coat, pressed it over the bandage.
His hands were steady even though his own ribs had to be screaming.
“We need to stop the bleeding better,” he said. “My blood helped earlier. I can—”“No.” I caught his wrist before he could claw himself again. “You’re already poisoned. You give more and you won’t be able to fight when we need you.”
His jaw tightened. “She’s dying.” “She’s not dying yet.” My voice cracked. “We’re not losing her tonight.” He looked at me—really looked. Gold eyes searching mine. For a second the tunnel disappeared. It was just us, kneeling in the dark, breathing the same air.
“I can’t lose you both,” he said quietly. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Then don’t.” I leaned across Lyra and pressed my forehead to his—brief, fierce. His hand came up, cupped the back of my neck. Thumb brushed the silver charm. The bond hummed again—stronger this time, a warm thread pulling between us.
“I’m scared I won’t be strong enough,” I whispered. He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. “You already are.” His voice was rough. “I’ve watched you be stronger than me every day since the ritual. You survived the blood draw. You survived Elara. You survived me. You’re still here. That’s strength.”
My chest ached. “I’m still here because of you.” He shook his head once—small, stubborn. “No. You were here before I chose right. You would’ve fought anyway.” I wanted to argue. Couldn’t. Because he was right. Behind us, the boots were closer. Flashlight beams stabbed around the corner—white knives in the dark. Kieran stood. Offered me his hand.
I took it. We lifted Lyra between us—her arms over our shoulders, her feet dragging. She was barely conscious now, murmuring Finn’s name over and over. We moved again—faster this time, toward the staircase at the far end. The catwalk above looked like it led to a service hatch.
If we could reach it, maybe we could get above ground, signal Rowan, and find a way into the arena from the mechanical level. Halfway across the boiler room, Lyra stumbled hard. Her weight pulled me off balance. I caught myself on a pipe—scalding even though the boiler was cold. Pain flared across my palm.

Kieran took more of her weight without a word. We reached the staircase. Narrow. Steep. Metal creaked under our feet. Kieran went first—Lyra draped over his shoulder now like a rag doll. I followed close behind, one hand on the rail, the other pushing against her back to help.

The stairs groaned. Rust flaked off under my fingers. We were almost at the top when the first enforcer burst into the boiler room below. “Up there!” Flashlight beams swept upward—blinding. Kieran growled—low, animal. “Keep going,” he told me. I pushed harder.
We reached the catwalk. Kieran kicked the hatch open—cold night air rushed in, carrying snow and the distant roar of the crowd being herded into the arena. Moonlight sliced through the opening—red-tinged, blood moon rising.

Kieran lowered Lyra onto the catwalk. She curled into herself, shivering. I climbed out after him—onto the roof of the annex. Snow stung my face. Floodlights swept the quad. Sirens wailed. Students were being marched in lines toward the arena entrance—some crying, some silent, all terrified.
Kieran pulled me down behind an air-conditioning unit. We crouched, breathing hard. Lyra was shaking now—violent tremors. Her lips were blue. I cradled her head in my lap. “Stay with me,” I whispered. “Please.” Kieran tore off the last scrap of his coat and tucked it around her.

Then he looked at me—gold eyes steady despite the pain etched into every line of his face. “We’re not losing her tonight,” he said. “And we’re not losing each other.” I nodded—couldn’t speak.
He leaned in—pressed his lips to my temple. Soft. Reverent. “I love you,” he murmured against my skin. “Whatever happens next.”
The words landed like a stone in still water—ripples spreading through me. I turned my face into his neck. “I love you too.” For one heartbeat, the world was just that—his heartbeat against my cheek, his arms around both of us, snow falling like ash.

Then the hatch behind us slammed open. Elara stepped out—platinum braid whipping in the wind, blade in her hand. She smiled—slow, satisfied. “You can’t run forever, little wolf.”
Behind her—six enforcers. Blades drawn. Runes glowing. And in the distance, the arena lights flared red. Moonrise.