Chapter 182: Chapter 182: The Animal

MAILAH KEPT WALKING, her breath coming in angry puffs of white vapor in the freezing mountain air. Her phone’s flashlight beam bobbed ahead of her, illuminating maybe ten feet of uneven forest path before darkness swallowed everything else.

She didn’t look back.

Didn’t want to see if Lucson was following. Didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing she cared whether he came after her or stayed in that ridiculous lodge with its suspicious fire and convenient provisions.

The silence behind her was absolute—no footsteps, no calls, no sounds of pursuit.

Fine. Perfect, actually.

He probably wasn’t even planning to follow. Why would he? She was nothing to him. Just another human, fragile and temporary, useful only as an asset to manipulate people or leverage against Grayson.

Now that she’d served her purpose, what did it matter if she wandered off into the wilderness at three in the morning?

Maybe a human like her really was nothing to him.

The thought stung more than it should have. Made her angrier at herself for caring about the opinion of a demon who’d spent the entire day treating her like a chess piece.

The path—such as it was—grew increasingly difficult to follow. What had seemed like a clear route in her fury-fueled departure now looked like nothing more than a gap between trees. Her phone’s light caught on branches that seemed to reach for her like skeletal fingers, on rocks that appeared designed to trip the unwary.

The temperature kept dropping.

Mailah wrapped her jacket tighter around herself, but it wasn’t designed for mountain nights. The cold seeped through the fabric, settling into her bones with malicious efficiency.

Her anger began to subside—not because she’d forgiven Lucson, but because survival instinct was overriding righteous indignation. The woods around her had gone from merely dark to oppressively pitch black, the kind of darkness that felt alive and watching.

She stopped walking, turning in a slow circle with her phone light.

Trees. More trees.

Undergrowth that all looked identical. No signs, no markers, no indication of which direction led back to the hunting lodge and which led deeper into wilderness.

“Okay,” she said aloud, her voice small against the vast silence. “This might have been poorly thought out.”

The admission cost her pride, but pride wouldn’t keep her from freezing to death or getting hopelessly lost. She needed to go back. Swallow her anger, face Lucson’s inevitable smugness, and accept that walking into cursed forest at three in the morning ranked among the stupider decisions she’d made.

Mailah turned around—or what she thought was around—and started walking back the way she’d come.

Except the path didn’t look the same.

Had she passed that twisted tree before? That cluster of rocks? The terrain felt wrong, unfamiliar, as if the forest had rearranged itself the moment she’d turned her back.

“Not cursed at all,” she muttered.

A sound reached her through the darkness—a rustling that could have been wind but wasn’t quite right. Too purposeful. Too close.

Mailah froze, her phone light sweeping the area.

Nothing.

Just trees and shadows and that oppressive darkness pressing in from all sides.

She started walking again, faster now, her heartbeat loud in her ears. The logical part of her brain insisted it was probably just a small animal. A rabbit. Maybe a fox. Harmless wildlife doing harmless wildlife things.

The part of her brain that had spent months navigating the supernatural world knew better.

The rustling came again—closer this time, definitely moving, definitely following.

“Lucson?” Mailah called out, hating how her voice shook. “Is that you?”

Silence.

Then more movement, this time from her left. Branches snapping. Something large displacing underbrush.

Something that was definitely not Lucson unless he’d decided to mess with her by crawling through bushes like an animal.

Mailah started walking faster, her phone light bouncing wildly as she navigated around trees and over roots. Behind her—or was it beside her now?—the sounds continued. Keeping pace. Drawing closer.

Her walk became a jog.

The sounds accelerated to match.

“Okay,” Mailah said to herself, breath coming faster. “Okay. This is fine. Just a wild animal. Probably more scared of you than you are of it. Just keep moving. Find the lodge. Don’t think about the fact that you’re alone in wilderness being stalked by something that might want to eat you.”

The pep talk didn’t help.

The sounds were definitely closer now. She could hear breathing—heavy, animal breathing that suggested something large and hungry and very interested in the human stumbling through its territory.

Mailah broke into a run.

Her phone light became useless, bouncing too erratically to illuminate anything useful. She navigated by instinct and blind luck, dodging trees by inches, her jacket catching on branches that seemed determined to slow her down.

Behind her, the sounds accelerated into pursuit.

Whatever was following her had committed to the chase.

Mailah’s lungs burned. Her legs screamed protest. The cold air felt like knives in her throat with each gasping breath. But fear overrode exhaustion, pushing her forward with adrenaline-fueled desperation.

She burst through a gap in the trees—

And nearly slammed into a solid wall of something.

Arms caught her, steadied her, held her upright as momentum tried to carry her forward.

“Lucson—” she started.

Then she heard it.

The thing chasing her hadn’t stopped. It was still coming, crashing through underbrush with single-minded determination, closing the distance with terrifying speed.

Mailah tried to turn, to see what was pursuing her, but Lucson’s grip tightened.

“Don’t move,” he said quietly. Not a suggestion. A command.

The sounds reached a crescendo—branches breaking, leaves rustling, heavy breathing almost on top of them.

Then impact.

Something large and furry slammed into Lucson’s back with enough force that Mailah felt the shock of it through his arms. She heard a yelp—animal, high-pitched, surprised—and the sound of something hitting the ground hard.

Lucson didn’t even stumble.

Didn’t shift his grip on her. Didn’t turn around.

It was like watching someone get hit by a speeding car and remain completely unmoved. As if his back had transformed into solid concrete the moment before impact.

Mailah twisted in his hold, finally getting a look at what had been chasing her.

A wild boar—massive, easily three hundred pounds of muscle and tusks and aggression—lay on the ground behind them, dazed and shaking its head. It had the confused expression of an animal that had just run full-speed into an invisible wall and couldn’t process what had happened.

The boar climbed to its feet on wobbly legs, gave them one last bewildered look, then turned and crashed back into the forest at a decidedly less aggressive pace.

Mailah stared at the spot where it had disappeared, her heart still hammering, adrenaline making her hands shake.

“What—” she started.

“Wild boar,” Lucson said calmly, as if commenting on weather. “Territorial. Aggressive. Probably thought you were threatening its den. Or it was just hungry. They’re not particularly discriminating.”

“It hit you. It hit you like a truck and you didn’t even move.”

“I’m substantially more durable than I look.” He still hadn’t released her, his hands steady on her arms. “Are you injured?”

“No, I—” Mailah’s voice came out shaky. “I’m fine. Just terrified and probably going to have a heart attack, but fine.”

“Your heart rate is elevated but within normal parameters for someone who was just being hunted.” Lucson’s tone remained maddeningly calm.

“Did you just—are you making a joke right now?”

“I’m observing facts. If they happen to have humorous elements, that’s coincidental.” His grip loosened slightly. “Can you walk?”

Mailah tested her legs. They felt like jelly, but functional. “Yes.”

“Good. Because we’re going back to the lodge, and I’d prefer not to carry you.”

“I don’t need to be carried—”

“I’m aware. That’s why I said I’d prefer not to.” He released her completely, stepping back. “The lodge is this way. Approximately four hundred meters. Try to keep up.”

He started walking, his form barely visible in the darkness despite being only a few feet away.

Mailah followed, her phone light now seeming pathetically inadequate. “How did you find me?”

“I followed you.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

“That was intentional.” Lucson navigated around a fallen log with ease, not even pausing. “You needed to work through your anger. I determined that following at a distance was more tactical than engaging immediately.”

“So you just… stalked me through the forest?”

“I maintained awareness of your location while allowing you space to process your emotions.” He said it without irony, as if this were completely reasonable behavior. “When I detected the boar approaching, I accelerated.”

“You detected—” Mailah shook her head. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

They walked in silence for several minutes, Mailah’s anger gradually returning now that the immediate danger had passed. Yes, Lucson had saved her from being gored by a wild boar. That didn’t erase what he’d said in the lodge. Didn’t undo his complete lack of tact or consideration for her feelings.

“For what it’s worth,” Lucson said, breaking the silence, “I shouldn’t have phrased my concerns the way I did.”

Mailah nearly tripped over her own feet. “Is that an apology?”

“It’s an acknowledgment that my delivery was suboptimal.” He glanced back at her. “I stand by the substance—you do need to prepare for multiple outcomes regarding Grayson’s condition. But perhaps stating it so bluntly while you were already exhausted and stressed was tactically unsound.”

“Tactically unsound,” Mailah repeated. “Not ’cruel’ or ’insensitive’ or ’the exact wrong thing to say to someone terrified for their fiancé.’ Tactically unsound.”

“Those terms all describe the same inefficiency.”

“They really don’t.” But some of the heat had left her voice. “You’re horrible, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told. Frequently.” The lodge appeared ahead, still lit by that suspicious fire. “I do believe Grayson will survive. He’s survived worse. But preparing for alternative outcomes isn’t pessimism—it’s strategy.”

“Strategy,” Mailah said tiredly as they reached the door. “Everything’s strategy with you.”

“It’s kept me alive for three centuries.” Lucson pushed the door open, gesturing for her to enter first.

Mailah stepped inside, the warmth hitting her like a physical embrace. Her body immediately began cataloging all the ways she’d abused it in the last hour—frozen extremities, exhausted muscles, lungs raw from running in cold air.

“You should warm up,” Lucson said, moving to stoke the fire. “Change into dry clothes. I’ll make tea.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I’m making tea regardless. You’re welcome to drink it or not.” He moved to the kitchen area with that same efficient domesticity.

Mailah collapsed into the chair closest to the fire, too exhausted to argue. She watched Lucson work—boiling water, finding tea bags in the suspiciously well-stocked kitchen, preparing two cups with the same precision he applied to everything.

When he handed her the tea, their fingers brushed. His were warm despite having been outside. Hers were ice.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For following me. For stopping the boar. For not being smug about the fact that I nearly got myself killed.”

“The night’s not over,” Lucson said. “I’m reserving smugness for later.”

Despite everything, Mailah laughed. “Of course you are.”

They sat in silence, drinking tea, the fire crackling between them. Outside, the forest remained dark and full of unknown dangers. But for this moment, in this suspicious lodge, Mailah felt something approaching safety.

Even if that safety came courtesy of a demon who treated emotions like tactical challenges and only apologized when it was “strategically sound.”

“Lucson?” she said after a while.

“Yes?”

“When we find Grayson—and we will find him—I need you to promise me something.”

“I don’t make promises I can’t guarantee keeping.”

“Promise me you’ll help me get him back. No matter what condition he’s in. No matter how changed or damaged or broken. We bring him home.”

Lucson was quiet for a long moment, his light gray eyes reflecting firelight.

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