𝐕𝐄𝐗𝐄𝐃 ❷

𝟏𝟖. ✭ 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈 ✭

I look over my shoulder several times, seeing Brooks still standing there watching me as I follow Tristan down the mountainside. "Come on, Dani, quicker. We need to move fast if you want to keep them far away from him." I give him a brisk nod, trying to make my feet move expeditiously after his long-legged form. As I try to keep up with Tristan's agile frame I begin realizing just how much he held back when he accompanied me on my daily runs. A scream tears itself from my lungs when we are met face-to-face by two men with drawn guns. Tristan steps sideways, covering my body partially with his, hands held out in front of him with caution. They're speaking to him in Albanian but, it would appear, Tristan can't speak or understand the language because he has yet to respond.

That has me rattling my brain as to why he would be my guard. Why would they have someone who can't even speak the language of our homeland protecting me? He's not protecting you. He's your captor, making sure you don't run away. Right.

I come out from around him and say, "unë jam Daniela Dedaj," confirming who I am but they aim their guns at Tristan. "Ai është roja ime." He's my guard. The two of them give us the once over before telling us they'll be accompanying us back to the compound. I can tell they're suspicious of him but neither Tristan nor I make a complaint. We start to follow and Tristan has a trained gun pulled on him. He says nothing about it the entire walk back.

How the hell do they not know who he is? The man has been with me for weeks running up this trail. I guess they're about as clueless as to who this man is as me. If he's friend or foe I'm still unsure. All I know is he's not who he's said he is to my family. He has his own agenda — one that clearly involves me.

My jaw clenches tightly as we continue our decent, thinking about what Brooks said. Tristan had known Torey was alive. He'd known but had still let me mourn him, watching me 'fall into a depression' as he'd put it. Tristan could've told me. He could've confided in me and I wouldn't have said anything. He could've given me that small reprieve and yet he didn't. Instead he tried to comfort me in his arms— tried to take advantage of my brokenness.

Once we're at the bottom I have to suck in a sharp breath at the carnage that awaits us. I freeze amongst the landscape, taking everything in. There are dead bodies all over the place. There's brains splattered, guts spilling out, and men groaning out in agony. A loud pang resounds in my head and a ringing noise in my ears cancels all the chaos out of my hearing, from everything happening around me.

All of this done to either get my son and I away from my father or to keep us here. All of this death because of us. Glancing around numbly I feel a sense of guilt flood through me. Do I really have it so bad? I have a room. I have food. I should feel content at the life my family has made here for me instead of being the cause of all of this gruesomeness.

My eyes land on a young man, one too young to be dead. His eyes brown, wide-open and lifeless. The urge to regurgitate is too strong to hold back and it has me doubling over, spewing all the contents in my stomach.

"Daniela?" My name is a muffled sound. At least I think it's my name. "Daniela—" there's something else being said to me but I can't register it. Arms lift me up to a standing position after I'm done being sick. I open and close my eyes a few times to clear my vision then am able to comprehend that I'm face to face with my father. He's saying something, murmuring words I can't understand. It's a mixture of Albanian and English. From what I'm gathering, he's glad nothing happened to me. He embraces me tightly but all I can do is blink.

"Wolf." I'm finally able to utter out after an eternity. "Where is he? Is my son safe?"

My father finally loosens his hold on me. "Po, I dashur. He is fine." Relief floods through me. "He's safe inside."