Chapter 13 – Blood in the Silence

The forest swallowed them whole.

Noah's steps were growing slower with every stride. The wound on his side had soaked through Alek's makeshift bandage, leaving a trail of dull red down his hip. His breath came short. Labored.

Alek had half a mind to carry him the rest of the way.

But he didn't.

Because Noah hated being treated like something fragile.

So instead, Alek stayed close. Hovering. Silent.

The cave entrance came into view behind a heavy curtain of moss and thorns. Alek pushed it aside and motioned for Noah to go first.

Inside, the darkness was thick. The air was cool and damp, heavy with the scent of earth and time.

They stumbled through a narrow passage that opened into a wide chamber with jagged walls and shallow pools of collected water.

Alek had trained here once, before everything had gone to hell. Before he stopped following orders. Before he remembered how to feel.

Now, it was a shelter. Not safe—nothing was truly safe—but quiet. Hidden.

Noah collapsed against the stone wall, panting, the pain in his side making his whole body tremble.

Alek dropped to his knees beside him.

"You need rest."

"I need stitches," Noah muttered.

Alek's jaw tightened. He pulled the cloth away. The gash had worsened. Raw, red, angry.

"This will hurt," he said softly.

Noah smiled faintly. "Wouldn't be the first time."

Alek boiled rainwater from one of the cave's pools using a rusted tin they'd carried from the last shelter. The small fire crackled faintly beneath the vent near the ceiling.

As he cleaned the wound, Alek's hands never shook. Not once.

But his face—

His face was war.

Noah watched him, wincing with every sting of cold water and cloth. "You've done this before."

"I've done worse."

"I believe that."

Alek paused, cloth dripping red.

"Do you hate who you were?" Noah asked.

"No."

That surprised him.

"I hate what they turned me into," Alek clarified. "But hating him? The old me? That'd be like hating a locked cage for not escaping on its own."

He sat back and wiped his hands clean.

Noah reached for him.

"Alek," he said softly, "you're not in the cage anymore."

Alek looked at him—and the look was raw.

Like someone standing in the rain, not knowing how to open an umbrella.

"You remind me of the first time I could feel again."

Noah's voice was a whisper. "What did it feel like?"

"Like drowning and breathing at the same time."

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Noah's.

"Don't die," he whispered.

"I'm not planning to," Noah said, lips curving.

"Good."

Because I couldn't survive it again.

Alek didn't say the words. But Noah felt them all the same.

Later that night, Noah fell asleep wrapped in Alek's jacket. His fever burned high. Alek stayed beside him the whole time, pressing cool cloths to his skin, whispering things he never thought he'd speak aloud.

"You're stronger than me," he murmured. "Not because you fight. But because you still hope."

Noah stirred, but didn't wake.

"You changed everything."

Alek rested his hand on Noah's chest, feeling the slow, rhythmic rise and fall.

It grounded him.

Kept him human.

And then—

The sound.

A soft electronic pulse.

Like a heartbeat. Mechanical. Faint, but steady.

Alek stiffened.

He turned slowly toward the backpack near the wall.

The sound was coming from inside.

His blood ran cold.

He tore the bag open, ripping apart seams, flaps, pockets.

And there it was.

A tracker.

Small. Sophisticated. Hidden beneath the lining.

His jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

They'd planted it on them before the escape.

Not because they thought they'd succeed.

But because they wanted to know where he would go.

Who he would protect.

And then destroy them both.

He crushed it under his boot.

Sparks flew. The light blinked once.

And died.

But it was too late.

They knew.

They were coming.

He shook Noah awake.

"We have to go."

Noah blinked, groggy. "What? What happened?"

"Tracker. In your bag."

Noah's face drained. "I didn't know—"

"I know."

Alek grabbed his gear. "They'll be here soon. We move now."

Noah sat up, breathing shallow.

"I can walk," he said, before Alek even asked.

"I know."

They moved.

Outside, the night was pitch-black. The storm had passed, but the clouds still blanketed the stars. The trees whispered.

And then, in the distance—

A low thump.

Helicopter blades.

They were closer than he feared.

Alek gripped Noah's wrist.

"We run east. There's a ravine with old mining tunnels."

"They'll chase us."

"They always do."

Noah's breathing was already ragged, his steps staggered.

Still, he kept going.

But as they neared the ridge, a sudden howl split the air.

Dogs.

Noah stumbled.

Alek caught him before he hit the ground.

"Go," Noah said through gritted teeth. "Don't let them get you too."

Alek's eyes burned.

"You think I'd leave now?"

"You'd survive."

"I don't want to just survive."

He grabbed Noah's face, pulled him close.

"I want to live."

Then he kissed him—hard, fierce, desperate.

And when he pulled back, his voice was steel.

"We finish this. Together."

They reached the edge of the ravine just as the first spotlight swept across the trees.

Alek pulled Noah down into a low crawl.

Bullets cracked overhead.

He covered Noah's body with his own, shielding him.

They slipped down the slope, scraping against rocks, crashing through ferns. Alek's arms bled. His knuckles split.

Noah fell hard, cried out.

Alek turned and saw the blood soaking through Noah's shirt again.

"Don't pass out!" he shouted.

"I'm trying!" Noah wheezed.

"Just a little further!"

They reached the hollow under a collapsed tree. Dark. Tight.

Alek shoved Noah inside.

"Don't make a sound."

He turned back toward the slope—

And froze.

Footsteps.

Heavy.

Fast.

A soldier burst through the brush—helmet, visor, pulse rifle up.

Alek didn't hesitate.

He lunged, grabbed the man by the arm, twisted. The rifle discharged into the air.

They struggled—Alek slammed the soldier's head into a rock. Once. Twice.

The body dropped.

More coming.

He grabbed the rifle, turned—

And fired.

Five minutes.

That was all they had bought themselves.

Alek crawled back into the hollow.

Noah was barely conscious.

"You're burning up," Alek whispered.

Noah opened his eyes. "I... I'm okay."

"Liar."

He cradled Noah against his chest, heart pounding like a war drum.

This isn't sustainable, he thought.

He couldn't outrun a whole army.

But maybe—just maybe—he didn't have to.

Maybe he just had to get Noah across the border.

To the old neutral zone.

The thought gave him direction.

Hope.

He whispered it into Noah's hair.

"We're going to make it."

And for the first time, he almost believed it.