Chapter 106: Witch

The car sped down the empty road, the engine humming too loud in the silence between them.

Isabella watched Aubrey drive. The way her hands strangled the steering wheel. The way her jaw stayed locked. There was a shine in her eyes that hadn’t fallen yet.

“…so that’s it then?” Isabella asked quietly.

“What?” Aubrey muttered, not looking at her.

“We came all this way for Adrian, and now we’re just gonna leave him with that—”

“He chose,” Aubrey snapped.

Isabella frowned but said nothing at first. The tires rolled over cracked pavement, the sound already dull to her ears.

“He chose…okay?” Aubrey continued, her voice tight. “We’re going to find the medicine your dad needs, and then we’re out of here for good.”

Isabella turned her gaze back to the road. Something prickled at the back of her neck. She let out a shaky, conflicted breath.

“Whatever, man.”

Aubrey shot her a sharp look.

“What, you don’t think I made the right decision or something?”

Isabella began slow, careful.

“Look… all I’m saying is maybe we could’ve worked something out. Not leave him to die out there, especially with someone we both know is already unstable.”

Aubrey’s hand slammed against the steering wheel. The car swerved slightly before she corrected it.

“You know what? Screw this. Screw you. You don’t get to give me shit when you don’t know the half of it!”

Isabella didn’t flinch. She rested her elbow against the door and pressed her fingers to her forehead.

A moment passed.

“When I asked you to help me find medicine for my dad,”

She started slowly. Aubrey looked at her with that. Her eyes flickered to her as well, searching for something beneath the anger.

“I did it because I thought you could keep a level head. Because you’re competent. And because I thought you knew what it felt like to lose someone.”

The words landed like stones in the air. The car swallowed them, the engine’s hum barely masking the weight.

“I don’t expect you to act irrational,” Isabella added quietly. “Not when someone’s life is at stake.”

“Well maybe you don’t

know me as well as you thought.”

The silence that came after was loud and charged.

Aubrey kept driving, something dark twisting in her chest.

—

I felt Lila’s grip slowly loosen from my waist as the sound of the engine faded into the distance.

The car disappeared down the road.

I looked up at the empty stretch of highway, and it finally sank in. They were gone.

For a second, I almost didn’t believe it.

I turned back. Lila stood a few steps behind me, smiling like nothing had happened.

I let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. Or maybe a scoff. I wasn’t sure.

“We never needed them anyway, sweetie. They’re assholes,” she said, her voice soft. She was trying to comfort me. Trying.

I stared down at the gravel. My chest felt tight.

“This was what you wanted in the end, right?” I asked.

Her smile slipped for a moment. Then her face hardened.

“Trust me, Adrian. It’s better like this.”

“…better how?” I muttered.

I turned and started walking toward the row of abandoned cars nearby.

“Well, I don’t feel any withdrawal symptoms coming on,” she added casually.

“That’s good for you, Lila,” I said under my breath.

I stopped at an old sedan and tried the handle. Locked.

Lila watched as I stepped back and drove my elbow into the window. The glass cracked but didn’t give. Pain shot up my arm. I hit it again. The window spiderwebbed.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

“I’m going after them. I’ll catch up. I’ll fix it.”

“Why?” Her voice sharpened.

“Because they’re my friends, okay?” I snapped.

She went quiet.

“I don’t expect you to understand. You’re not exactly the most popular,” I said, slamming my elbow into the glass again. It finally shattered. Blood ran down my forearm. I barely felt it.

“You don’t seem to get it, do you?” she said softly.

I stopped and looked at her. “Get what, Lila?”

She stepped closer. Closer. Until my back hit the side of the car.

“You finally know what it feels like,” she said. “To be cast out.”

Her eyes dropped to my bleeding elbow.

“Abandoned.”

She slowly cupped my face before I realized. I tried to pull away, but she held firm.

My vision blurred. A tear slipped out before I could stop it. She wiped it away with her thumb.

“I pushed for us to be alone because I knew this would happen,” she whispered. “Aubrey. Your dad. Your coach.”

She paused.

“Damien.”

“Don’t you ever mention him,” I said, my voice shaking.

“I don’t leave when you’re inconvenient,” she said softly, cutting through my words.

“I don’t leave when you’re difficult.”

She leaned in close, her lips near my ear.

“I love all of you, Adrian. Even the parts that make other people tired.”

She pulled me into her chest, her fingers threading into my hair and tightening just enough to keep me there. Her body felt warm— something that always steadied me. I could feel her heartbeat through her shirt. It was slow and controlled, nothing like mine.

It was strange to me how she had been so calm.

Especially after proving to be so unstable from before.

It almost felt like…it was all a sick lie.

All of it.

For a moment, my chest loosened. The panic didn’t disappear, but it dulled. The noise in my head lowered to something I could almost manage. The fear, the guilt, the ache of being left behind—they blurred at the edges without ever fully going away.

Her hand moved slowly through my hair, smoothing it back, then repeating the motion. Over and over. Her other arm stayed locked around my shoulders.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, her voice low and close to my ear. “I’ve got you.”

She stroked my head again, softer this time.

The way someone would calm a shaking dog on the side of the road. The way someone would handle something hurt and fragile.

Like I was injured. Like I was hers to fix.

“Everyone leaves us, Adrian. You’re allowed to be tired of proving yourself.”

I barely wrapped my arms around her. I pressed my face into her shoulder, trying to hide the tears that wouldn’t stop.

But no matter how hard I tried, she saw.

She always did.

Damn it. Back to square one, huh?

—

Annie’s fingers tapped against the desk in short, steady beats. Her other hand was curled into a fist, pressed against her jaw as she stared at the man across from her with open boredom.

Behind her, tanks of Amber glowed under low lights. The thick liquid shifted slowly inside the glass. The smell hung heavy in the room. Sweet. Sharp. Addicting.

The man’s eyes kept drifting past her shoulder. His throat bobbed. A thin line of drool slipped from the corner of his mouth.

Annie’s eyebrows pulled together.

“How’d the blockade go?” she asked.

Her voice snapped him back. He blinked fast.

“I expected those fleshers to be back in chains right now,” she added.

A pause.

“Why aren’t they?”

His pupils widened. Sweat rolled down his temple.

“The blockade… well—we had them, but they were—”

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait.” She lifted a hand sharply.

He stopped mid-sentence.

“So you’re telling me your people are armed with rifles, humvees, body armor, even had a damn checkpoint set up—” she leaned forward slightly, “—and you couldn’t capture four idiots in a busted, hotwired Toyota Camry?”

“…with all due respect, Annie—”

Her expression shifted. Not loud. Not explosive. Just darker.

He swallowed but kept going.

“I think we’re prioritizing the wrong thing.”

“You think we’re what?” she asked calmly.

He inhaled fast and spoke clearly this time.

“The Amber recipe has been leaked. Copies are circulating. Other groups are producing their own supply now. People are leaving our territory to join them. Smaller factions are forming outside the city using our formula. If they stabilize production, they can build their own power structure. They won’t need us.”

The room went silent.

“That being said,” he continued, “those kids are already trapped between rival territory and the outer checkpoints. We don’t need to waste resources chasing them. Our rivals will kill them eventually.”

Silence stretched. The hum of the tanks filled it.

Annie stood slowly. She walked around the desk, heels clicking against the floor. She stopped in front of him. Close enough for him to smell her perfume over the Amber.

“Let me make something clear to you,” she said.

Her hand lifted and wiped the drool from his chin with her thumb. She looked at it, then wiped it on his shirt.

“No matter what. No matter how.” Her eyes locked onto his. “I want that kid’s head on a silver platter.”

She stepped back.

“Our priorities are straight. They definitely are.”

Her gaze sharpened.

“And don’t you ever suggest otherwise again.”

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