Oh to be loved

8

The forest was unforgiving, each branch and thorn that snagged at Amara's skin a reminder that she was in a race for her life. The sound of gunfire had faded, but the thudding of her heart and Malik's labored breathing were constant reminders of the danger that followed them.

They ran until their legs could carry them no more. Eventually, Malik slowed, gasping for breath, and Amara followed suit, her chest heaving. She collapsed against a tree, the rough bark scraping her back as she slid to the ground. The air was heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth, but all she could think about was the threat behind them.

"They'll keep coming," Malik said, his voice low, rasping from the effort. "Cillian won't stop until he has you back."

Amara closed her eyes, her body aching with fatigue. She had known that getting away from Cillian would be hard, but now, facing the reality of his relentless pursuit, she realized it might be impossible.

"How did you find me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "You shouldn't have come. You're in as much danger as I am now."

Malik crouched down next to her, his hand resting on her shoulder, his expression grim. "You're my sister. I wasn't going to leave you in that place. I'd rather die trying to get you out than let you stay there under his control."

Her heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. She had been angry at Malik for so long, for dragging her into his world of debts and dangers, but in this moment, all that anger melted away. They were both trapped, both pawns in Cillian's twisted game, and the only way they would survive was together.

"We need to keep moving," Malik said after a moment, pushing himself to his feet. "They'll regroup, and when they do, they'll come looking for us again. We can't stay here."

Amara nodded, forcing herself to stand, even though her muscles screamed in protest. She was exhausted, but she knew Malik was right. Cillian's men were methodical and wouldn't stop until they were found.

As they began moving again, Amara glanced at Malik, her mind racing with questions. He had been running for days, maybe longer. What had happened to him since Cillian had taken her? How had he managed to stay alive, let alone track her down?

"What's the plan, Malik?" she asked, her voice barely steady as they maneuvered through the trees. "Where are we even going?"

Malik hesitated, his gaze flickering toward her for a moment before focusing ahead. "There's a safe house," he said, his voice tight. "Outside of Dublin, one of my old contacts. I've been trying to get there, but it's not exactly easy with Cillian's men everywhere."

"A safe house?" Amara echoed, frowning. "And you think they won't find us there?"

He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. "It's a long shot, but it's our best bet. Cillian's reach is far, but if we can make it there, we might have a chance to regroup, figure out our next move."

She swallowed hard, the reality of their situation sinking in. There was no clear path out of this mess, no guarantee that the safe house would even be safe. But she had no better plan, and they couldn't keep running blindly through the forest.

"Okay," she said quietly, "let's go."

---

They traveled for hours, the sun sinking lower and lower until the forest was bathed in the eerie glow of twilight. The light filtered through the trees in long, golden rays, but the beauty of the scene was lost on Amara. All she could think about was the danger that lurked in the shadows. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig made her heart jump.

Malik led the way, his movements quick but cautious. He clearly knew this forest well, but even so, they were both on edge. Amara kept glancing over her shoulder, half-expecting to see Cillian's men emerging from the trees, guns drawn.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally reached a small clearing. Malik stopped at the edge, his eyes scanning the area carefully before stepping out into the open.

"There's a stream just ahead," he said, motioning toward the thick brush on the other side. "We'll rest there for a bit. We need water."

Amara nodded, her throat dry and scratchy. She hadn't realized how dehydrated she was until he mentioned it. The adrenaline that had been coursing through her veins was beginning to fade, leaving her feeling weak and lightheaded.

They reached the stream, its clear water trickling over smooth rocks. Malik knelt down, cupping his hands to drink, and Amara followed suit, the cool water a brief reprieve from the chaos of their escape.

As she sat back, wiping her mouth, her thoughts drifted to Cillian. Even now, in the middle of the forest, miles away from the mansion, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was watching her. The way he had looked at her in the basement, the possessiveness in his gaze, sent shivers down her spine.

"What's his deal?" Amara asked suddenly, breaking the silence. "Cillian. Why does he want me so badly?"

Malik's expression darkened, and he didn't answer right away. He stared at the water, his jaw tight, as if weighing how much to tell her.

"It's not just about the debt," Malik said finally, his voice low. "I mean, yeah, that's part of it. But it's more than that, Amara. Cillian... he's obsessed with power. Control. And when he sets his sights on something-or someone-he doesn't stop until he has them."

Amara swallowed hard, her stomach turning. "But why me?"

Malik sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know exactly. But he's been watching you for a long time, longer than you know. I think... I think he sees something in you. Maybe it's because you don't come from this world, because you don't play by the same rules. You challenge him, whether you mean to or not."

She shook her head, disbelief washing over her. "That's insane."

"Yeah, it is," Malik agreed, his voice grim. "But Cillian doesn't think like normal people. He's dangerous, Amara. And if we don't find a way to stop him, he's going to trap you in his world forever."

Amara shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. She knew Malik was right. She had seen the depths of Cillian's darkness, had felt it in every word, every look he gave her. He was a man who wouldn't stop until he had exactly what he wanted.

But she wasn't going to let him win.

"We'll figure this out," she said, her voice steady. "We'll get to the safe house, and then we'll come up with a plan. I'm not going back to him, Malik. I won't let him control me."

Malik gave her a small, tired smile. "I know. And I'll be with you every step of the way."

---

As night fell, they decided to rest by the stream for a few hours before continuing on. They needed to conserve their strength if they had any hope of reaching the safe house by morning. Malik took the first watch, sitting on a rock near the edge of the clearing, his eyes scanning the forest for any signs of movement.

Amara tried to sleep, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw Cillian-his cold, calculating gaze, the way his hand had gripped her wrist in the basement. She couldn't shake the feeling that he was out there, somewhere, closing in on them.

Her dreams, when they finally came, were filled with dark corridors, shadows that shifted and moved, and the feeling of being hunted. She woke with a start, her heart racing, her skin slick with sweat.

Malik was still on watch, his posture tense. When he saw her stir, he turned to her, his expression grim.

"We need to move," he said quietly. "They're getting closer."

Amara didn't ask how he knew. She could feel it too, a growing pressure in the air, like the forest itself was holding its breath. She stood, shaking off the remnants of her restless sleep, and nodded.

They set off again, moving quickly through the darkened woods, the moonlight barely illuminating their path. Every step felt heavier, every sound more ominous. Amara's mind raced, trying to hold on to hope, trying to convince herself that they could make it, that they would find safety.

But deep down, she knew that as long as Cillian was out there, hunting them, safety was an illusion.

And as they moved deeper into the forest, Amara couldn't shake the feeling that the real fight was just beginning.