Chapter 22: Give up or run?

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Do you ever look back at your mistakes?

Like,

One day, you're casually walking down the road with your friends, talking and laughing and having a great time. Then, because of a hunch you look back, and you see this memory barreling to you like a torpedo with a vendetta.

You run and run as you try to escape it, but no matter how you try it is always there, staring at you, following you, and making your great time turn into mush.

I wish I was talking about memories since they're just as bad, but unfortunately, I'm talking about bitches that have been hired off of Cenderbees' last coins.

When we decided that we would fight to keep my inheritance, I was expecting late night runs for my life, the occasional abrupt moving and even some bruises. I was not expecting my joints to hurt, my throat to be drier than the Sahara or for the sole of my feet to be bleeding like a bitch.

I can only blame myself for listening to Orla's suggestion.

"Can you stop doing that?" the woman whispers, hissing at me. I cock my head to the side in question, fluttering my eyes before she clicks her tongue and looks away. My silent glare reemerges; stabbing her in the neck and making her hair stand on end.

She turns around again with a glare of her own and I soften my expression, smiling when she scowls. We stare at each other for a few seconds, then she turns away again to scour the area and my glare comes back.

She turns immediately this time, face heated as she readies herself to fight me. I don't back down, having some colorful words myself to defend my opinions.

"Stop being so childish, Loo," Nao speaks up, shifting so Jamaica's head is laying on his thighs rather than his knees. The boy's breathing is weak, sign of the stab wound he got on his side.

We both nod and remain invisible in the bushes, waiting our assailants out.

A crack goes off in the distance and Nao pushes both our heads down, consequently smacking our foreheads to the ground. I stop breathing when I hear more crunches, peering through the leaves as I see booted legs pass us while rays of light go over our heads.

I release soft exhales and inhales when they walk further down the dirt road, only panting when the trees grow silent again.

It is needless to say that I am exhausted beyond words. We have been running for two days now and they somehow always find us. I feel like I'm being hunted down by a relentless ghost and it is not doing good to my heart.

Flashes of light lights up certain parts of the trees and I narrow my eyes, a stupid part of me believing that that will do something to aid my hiding. I look back at Nao, but his gaze is strained in front of him, slightly glaring at the soldiers a few meters away.

I want to sleep, but that would be dangerous if we have to bolt and I'm lying there, snoring. But damn, does more than half off me give less fucks.

Searing pain travels up my leg and I hold off on cursing, turning back to see my Alpha's finger leaving my injured feet. I want to kick him, but I can't, I want to thank him for tat wake-up call, but I can't.

I'm frozen in place because of our enemies.

We stay like this for quite some time, looking at the dark figures that search the area.

In my book on how to search for things/people, it is not unusual that one would abandon the place they are searching when they have not found what they are looking for in a certain amount of time.

Thirty minutes has passed.

What are they doing?

Should I throw a rock to distract them? Let's give it a try.

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