POV: Zina
The forest was alive with shadows. The sharp snap of twigs echoed like gunshots, each sound twisting Zina's gut tighter. Her chest burned, lungs screaming for air as she dragged her feet through the mud, Asher's hand slick and cold in hers.
"Keep going," Asher rasped, but his voice barely cut through the night's suffocating silence.
The metallic tang of blood lingered in the air, and Zina tasted it on her tongue. Jared's blood. She didn't know how much he'd lost or if he was even still alive, but the thought of leaving him behind gnawed at her like broken glass in her throat.
Her foot caught on a root, and she hit the ground hard. The impact rattled her bones, but the ache couldn't rival the guilt clawing at her chest.
"We have to go back," she sobbed, wiping mud from her face. "We can't leave him."
Asher tugged on her arm, eyes wide with panic. "If we stop, he'll find us."
