Chapter 4 Chapter 4

Bailey’s POV

“When half way through the journey of our life,

I found that I was in a gloomy wood,

because the path which led aright was lost.”

That’s exactly how I felt — like Dante stumbling into Hell. This forest was properly gloomy. The vortex ride had been worse than a bus trip from hell; I vomited the second we landed in this god-forsaken place. I had no clue where we were, and I felt completely lost. I still felt weak from the hospital. My heart raced and burned inside my chest. I hated it. For some reason, I hated everything.

A hand clamped on my shoulder and dragged me down into a large bush. It was Nathaniel. He covered my mouth and held a finger to his lips, urging silence.

“What the hell? Some nerve you have, grabbing me like that!” I whispered.

He just gave me a cold stare. “Be quiet, idiot. Someone’s in the woods.”

Voices carried from ahead. Men were approaching. Odd-looking men. Their clothes were the first thing I noticed: black and brown tones, loaded with details—part pirate, part aristocrat, part savage. If you stripped the costume down, it was mostly pants, a plain white shirt, and long trench coats piled with weapons: backs, hips, sleeves, boots. One of them even pulled a dagger from his boot.

“Mercenaries,” Nathaniel said as if he’d read my mind. “Rogues. They only fight when there’s personal gain. The twins probably tipped them off.”

“Your thoughts… they’re hidden from me. Why is that?” he asked, staring into my eyes. That freaked me out — a good thing he couldn’t actually hear my inner monologue. There were a lot of rude things about him floating around in there and I still wanted to live.

Two mercs searched the undergrowth while the rest scanned the woods. One of them hung upside down from a branch like a monkey, grinning. He looked about seventeen: messy fiery-red hair, ocean-blue eyes, messy silk belt trailing like a tail. He was cute in a mischievous way. He swung down when his boss barked.

The leader was classic alpha: broad, muscular, clean-cut on the sides, beard thick and groomed. Unlike his men, he favored aristocratic style even in the field.

I stole a look at Nathaniel. He watched the mercenaries, calculating—trying to find an escape, I hoped. Up close, he was dark and handsome in a dangerous way: messy dark-brown hair, a strong jaw, masculine features. But those eyes—pure black, no irises—gave me chills. I’d read about people with “black” eyes in fiction; his were not dark brown. They were a void. Uncanny.

All I could think was how to get away. Get away from him, the mercs, this place. I needed a distraction.

“They already know where we are,” Nathaniel said, breaking my thought.

“If that’s true, why aren’t they attacking?” I asked.

“The boy in the tree is nature-sensitive. He talks to plants and animals. One of them told him we’re here.” Nathaniel didn’t look at me; he kept analyzing their movements.

“Then why hide? It’s pointless if they know. We should run and hope we’re faster.” I started mapping escape routes in my head.

He finally looked at me and I wished he hadn’t. My spine shivered the instant his gaze pinned me. “You humans really are stupid, aren’t you?”

If I hadn’t been terrified, I’d have punched him. Wishful thinking. Ignore him, Bailey.

“If we move now, it would alert the two men behind us in the trees.” I swiveled to look—too late. Nathaniel had already grabbed me, pinning me to the ground in a move so quiet I barely heard it. The mercs in front of us didn’t even flinch.

“You are stupid,” he murmured. “One more move and we would be dead.” His eyes drilled into mine. He locked my hands above my head with his right hand, the other bracing on the ground. His weight held me down. I couldn’t move.

Heat crawled through me. My head spun. I breathed using whatever little air I could steal. Then I saw it: Nathaniel’s body pulsing, dark heat waves rippling off him. He was using magic and it was affecting me. Pain blossomed inside my chest. I writhed, trying to break free, but he only tightened his grip.

“Stop moving. You’re breaking my concentration.” The dark heat multiplied and the pain sharpened.

“Stop it, please! It hurts!” I gasped, sweat slick on my skin. My heart pounded. Great.

“You need to calm down. Fear won’t help,” he said.

“Easy for you to say! You don’t have two hearts beating in your chest!” I rasped. “Stop— it’s burning me! I can’t breathe!”

Then, abruptly, the pain vanished. Nathaniel stepped aside and released me. His face didn’t change; he studied me as if scanning for a missing piece. Does this guy ever blink?

A beat later he turned to the mercenary leader. “For a second, I forgot my heart was beating in you,” he said, glancing at me.

“If I had continued the spell your chest would have exploded.” Gee, thanks for the heads-up, douchebag.

“After we escape, we’ll work on your control of the dark magic. It’s consuming.” He was right, annoyingly so. But there was no way in the deepest level of Hell I was going anywhere with him willingly. I needed an opening and the mercs were my only distraction.

The men remained still, waiting for the leader’s signal. The whole scene felt staged—and terrifyingly patient.

Third-Person POV

“Spike, amuse me. What’s the situation?” the mercenary boss asked. He was a man of binary choices—attack or don’t attack, move or hold. He analyzed everything before striking. This wasn’t a regular gig; it smelled like trouble. He couldn’t afford surprises this time. The mission: obtain the human girl without harming her. Why? Unknown. But Ares (that was the boss’s name) hated being played.

He’d felt Nathaniel’s power before. It had cost his men dearly. One public execution had burned into his memory—he’d watched a friend die, and Ares never forgave such things. Now, with Nathaniel possibly behind that bush, everything became risk versus reward.

If he sent Spike first, the kid’s impulsiveness could get him torn apart. But Spike—tree-kid—was a wildcard who covered ground fast. Ares considered using the men in the trees as bait, but Nathaniel already seemed aware of those men. Perhaps that awareness could be turned to advantage. He tightened his jaw and watched the undergrowth, waiting for the opportune moment.