Snow swallowed their footsteps as they ran, the forest stretching endlessly ahead, each tree like a shadowed sentinel watching them pass. The flames of the estate had vanished into the night behind them, leaving only the faint glow of orange on the horizon. Cassandra's lungs burned with cold air, her body numb and aching, but she didn't dare slow down. Not while Julian's grip on her hand remained unyielding.
At last, he pulled her into a thicket of pines, their branches heavy with snow, muffling the world. He lowered her to a fallen log, his chest heaving, his breath visible in the icy air.
"Sit. Just for a moment." His voice was hoarse, but steady. Too steady.
Cassandra collapsed beside him, shivering. Her hair clung damp to her face, her gown torn at the hem. She looked at him then—really looked. His coat was half-burned, soot streaked across his cheek, and yet his eyes… his eyes were alive with fire.
"You should have left me," she whispered. "You should have saved yourself."
Julian gave a short, disbelieving laugh. "And live without you? Not a chance."
The words stole her breath. There it was again—that reckless devotion, sharp as a blade and warm as fire. The kind of devotion that terrified her, because it made her want to believe in forever.
He crouched, tugging off his coat despite the cold. "Here. Take this."
She shook her head. "You'll freeze."
"I'll survive." He draped it over her shoulders anyway, his fingers lingering, brushing the side of her neck. That single touch made her shiver more than the winter air ever could.
They sat in silence for a while, listening to the storm howl through the trees. The world beyond the forest no longer existed—only this pocket of shadows, snow, and fragile warmth.
Finally, Cassandra broke the silence. "You said they'll never stop hunting us. Why? Who are they, Julian? And who are you, really?"
For the first time since the fire, Julian looked away. His jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists against his knees.
"You don't want the truth," he murmured.
Her heart ached. "Don't I deserve it?"
His gaze snapped back to hers, raw and unguarded. "You deserve everything. Everything I never should have touched. But the truth… it'll make you hate me."
She leaned forward, her voice breaking. "Try me."
Julian's lips parted—like he might finally unravel the knot of secrets choking him—but instead, he exhaled sharply and dragged a hand through his hair.
"Not here. Not tonight. Tonight, I just need to know you're safe. That you're alive. That I haven't ruined everything yet."
She reached for his hand before she could stop herself. His fingers were ice-cold, rough, scarred. But when they closed around hers, her pulse steadied.
"You haven't ruined anything," she whispered.
The tension in his shoulders eased, just slightly. "You always say the impossible, Cassandra."
Snowflakes drifted down, soft against her lashes. For a fleeting moment, the world felt still—two fugitives in the middle of nowhere, bound together by something neither of them could deny anymore.
But then a branch cracked in the distance. Sharp. Deliberate.
Cassandra froze. Julian was already moving, pulling her behind him, his knife flashing in the moonlight.
Her heart thundered. "They found us."
Julian's voice was low, lethal. "Then let them try."
And as the shadows in the trees shifted, Cassandra realized that survival wasn't just about running. It was about standing together—through fire, through snow, through everything. Because whatever hunted them, whatever secrets Julian still carried, she knew one thing with terrifying certainty: She wasn't letting go of him. Not now. Not ever.