Darrien's Perspective

Darrien was taken aback by how swiftly Cass had managed to gather everything for their departure. It was almost as if he had prepared for this moment in advance. Once everything was set, Cass handed him a black-haired wig along with a pair of brown contact lenses.

"I know this might feel uncomfortable, but it's better to be cautious. You stand out too much with your natural features, so let's tone it down a bit," Cass explained, his tone pragmatic yet reassuring.

Darrien nodded in silent understanding and attempted to put on the wig himself. However, the task proved more challenging than anticipated. The strands kept slipping from his fingers, refusing to settle properly. Seeing his struggle, Cass stepped in without hesitation. His hands moved with practiced ease, adjusting the wig until it fit snugly. Darrien watched in the dim bathroom mirror as his reflection transformed. The black hair and brown eyes didn't make him entirely unrecognizable, but they dulled the sharpness of his usual striking appearance. He looked... ordinary, which was exactly what they needed.

By the time they finally set out, the clock was inching towards midnight. The neighborhood where Cass lived, though filled with towering apartment buildings, was eerily quiet. The streets were lined with parked cars, and only the occasional glow of a cigarette ember or the flickering of a television screen through an open window hinted at life within.

"Most people here are office workers or students," Cass remarked, glancing at Darrien, who was surveying their surroundings with curiosity. "It's always this quiet after dark."

They slipped into the car, Cass taking the driver's seat with practiced ease. As the engine purred to life, he turned to Darrien. "Try to get some rest. We'll be stopping occasionally to stretch and for bathroom breaks. Oh, check the glove compartment—I got you some anti-inflammatory pills for your throat. They taste like candy, so you can just suck on them."

Darrien opened the compartment and pulled out a small box containing green, lozenge-like pills. He popped one into his mouth, savoring the faint sweetness as he leaned back against the seat. A thought suddenly struck him, and he reached for the small notepad and pen tucked inside the plastic bag he carried.

He scribbled, "I haven't seen you rest since I woke up this morning, and it didn't seem like you rested yesterday either. Will you be okay driving for so many hours?"

Cass shot him a quick glance before returning his focus to the road. "I'm used to it. I don't sleep much—comes with the job. If I start feeling drowsy, I'll pull over and take a break."

Darrien hesitated before writing again. "I can drive too."

Cass let out a short chuckle. "Nice offer, but you don't know the route, and this car doesn't have GPS." He cast him an amused look. "Just relax and enjoy the ride."

Feeling a bit foolish for not realizing the obvious, Darrien nodded, tucking the notepad away. He briefly considered suggesting they use a phone for navigation but quickly dismissed the idea. Cass clearly preferred to be in control of the journey, and after everything he had done to get them on the road so quickly, Darrien figured he owed him at least this much trust.

As they left the city behind, the scenery gradually shifted. The towering skyscrapers gave way to vast, open fields and rolling hills. The highway stretched endlessly ahead, carving through dense forests that loomed on either side. Despite the remote landscape, distant city lights flickered on the horizon, a reminder that civilization was never too far away. The hum of the tires against the asphalt and the rhythmic motion of the car made Darrien feel drowsy, but he fought against sleep, staring out at the changing scenery.

They drove through the night, the darkness eventually softening into the pale hues of dawn. Their first stop was at a small, nearly deserted gas station. Cass pulled up beside the pump, stretching his arms as he killed the engine.

Darrien gestured toward the bathroom, signaling that he was heading inside. His body ached from sitting in the car for so long. Unlike Cass, he wasn't used to extended road trips. For long-distance travel, he typically opted for a plane, making this kind of journey unfamiliar and exhausting. He could already feel the stiffness settling in his muscles, and they still had a long way to go—an entire day's worth of driving ahead of them.

And then, the real challenge: the climb.

Cass had mentioned it in passing, but Darrien hadn't paid much attention at the time. There was no proper road leading to their destination—only a narrow mountain trail that they would have to traverse on foot. The thought of it made Darrien inwardly groan. His stamina had been at an all-time low lately, and the idea of a strenuous climb after hours of sitting in a car wasn't exactly appealing. But what choice did he have?

It was a small price to pay for what lay ahead—a new beginning, a fresh start. Whatever awaited him at the end of this journey, he could only hope it was worth the struggle.

Darrien was just about to leave the bathroom when the door swung open, and three men stumbled in. They reeked of alcohol, their movements loose and uncoordinated. From their lack of pheromones, Darrien could tell they were betas.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" one of them slurred, a lazy smirk tugging at his mouth as he sauntered toward Darrien.

Darrien instinctively took a step back, his shoulders tensing. Just his luck—why did he have to run into these idiots at their first stop?

"Oh my, did someone hurt you, cutie?" The guy's hand shot out, aiming for the wound on Darrien's forehead.

Darrien flinched, turning his head away to dodge the touch.

"I don't think he likes to be touched," another one snickered, his laugh harsh and grating. "Maybe he thinks he's too good for us." He stepped closer, his body language aggressive, his gaze sharpening as they began to corner Darrien.

Darrien had been in situations like this before. If they were alphas, he would have handled it himself. If they were betas, his personal guard would have stepped in. But now? He was alone. Cass was outside pumping gas, probably unaware of the situation. He needed to find a way out—quickly.

"But can the little bird speak?" the third man sneered, shoving the other two aside as he closed in. He hooked his finger around Darrien's scarf, tugging it down to reveal the bruising on his throat.

"Oh… would you look at that?" A wide, lecherous grin spread across his face. "Do you like it rough, little bird?"

Darrien glared at him. Unlike the other two, this one didn't smell that much of alcohol. He was a lot more sober—fully aware of what he was doing—which made him more dangerous. If they were all drunk, he could have exploited that weakness, maybe slipped past them. But with this one? It would be harder.

His hand drifted toward the notepad and pen in his back pocket. Slowly, he curled his fingers around the pen, gripping it tightly. Stabbing someone wasn't as easy as the movies made it look. You had to aim for soft flesh and apply a lot of pressure in one go. Contrary to popular belief, the eyes were hard to hit unless you had perfect aim. The stomach—that was a better target.

"I can rough you up if you want. Right here and right now," the man whispered, grabbing Darrien's jaw with his hand. His thumb traced Darrien's bottom lip, his breath rank with stale beer and malice. "You look like an omega… which means you must get real wet when someone rams into you properly…"

Disgust coiled in Darrien's stomach. He seriously considered stabbing the guy right in the crotch.

But just as he was about to act, the bathroom door slammed open so hard it bounced off the wall.

"So this is why you were late," Cass's voice was dangerously low as he stepped inside.

The two drunk guys barely had time to react before Cass was on them. He grabbed them both by the collar, his strength almost inhuman, and smashed their heads together with a sickening crack. They slumped to the floor, out cold.

But the third guy—the more sober one—only smiled.

"Well now… who's this?" His grip on Darrien's scarf tightened, yanking him forward. "Are you the one who roughed up our little bird like this? I'm sure you wouldn't mind sharing him—for the right price."

Darrien winced as the scarf dug into his throat, pain flashing down his neck.

Cass's expression darkened, his gaze sharpening into something lethal.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," the guy sneered. "How much could you actually care about him? Just look at his messed-up face and those bruises on his neck—"

He didn't get to finish.

Cass's fist shot out so fast that Darrien barely saw it move. The sickening crunch of bone followed as the guy's head snapped back. He crumpled to the floor, blood streaming from his mouth and nose. Something white clattered across the tiles.

Teeth.

Cass stood over him, chest heaving, his knuckles bruised and raw.

"Are you okay?" Cass's hands were on Darrien's shoulders, turning him gently. His eyes roamed over him, checking for any signs of injury. "Did they touch you?"

Darrien shook his head, signaling he was fine.

Cass sighed in relief—then his gaze dropped to the pen still clutched in Darrien's hand.

"Were you going to attack him with that?"

Darrien hesitated before nodding. "Yeah."

Cass's mouth twitched into a small, crooked smile. "Good boy." He reached up and ruffled Darrien's hair.

Darrien's eyes widened, a flush creeping up his cheeks. Cass's hand stilled, realization dawning on his face as he quickly withdrew it.

But Darrien grabbed his hand before it could slip away. Without thinking, he interlaced their fingers, holding on tightly.

Cass blinked, clearly surprised. But instead of pulling away, he squeezed Darrien's hand.

"Come on," Cass said, his smile returning as he tugged Darrien toward the door. "It reeks in here."

Darrien followed, his hand still firmly in Cass's. His heart was pounding—not from fear or the aftermath of the attack—but from the lingering warmth of Cass's fingers entwined with his own.