The Traitor’s Night

Chapter 7: The Traitor The cold night air pressed heavily around them, the silence following Kristof's departure suffocating. Ember’s heart raced, replaying his ominous words like a sinister melody. She clutched Valentin's hand, her grip seeking solace, but his touch was tense, his fingers trembling slightly against hers. “We can’t stay here,” Valentin said, his voice a low, urgent whisper. “Kristof never bluffs. He always follows through.” Ember nodded, pushing down the swell of fear in her chest. She had made her choice—Valentin was her path, no matter the dangers. “Where can we go?” she asked, her voice steady despite the trembling in her hands. Valentin’s sharp green eyes darted to the shadowed alleys around them. “There’s a safe house outside the city,” he said. “It’s old magic—Kristof won’t be able to track us there. But we need to move now.” Without hesitation, they began to run. Their footsteps echoed through the empty streets, the sharp sound bouncing off the walls of buildings that seemed to close in on them. Valentin led the way with unerring precision, his heightened senses steering them through the labyrinth of alleyways. Ember struggled to match his pace, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps, but she refused to let go of his hand. “Keep going,” he urged, casting a glance over his shoulder. His eyes scanned the shadows, sharp and wary, every muscle in his body coiled for action. But even as they ran, Ember couldn’t shake the eerie sensation creeping along her spine. They weren’t alone. She dared a quick glance behind them and thought she caught the flicker of movement—a shadow shifting where no shadow should be. “Valentin,” she murmured, barely above a whisper. He stopped abruptly, pulling her into a narrow alcove, his body tense and alert. “What is it?” “I think we’re being followed,” she said, her voice quivering despite her best efforts to stay calm. Valentin’s jaw tightened, his gaze sweeping their surroundings. “Stay close,” he whispered, stepping out of the alcove to face the night. His posture was defensive, his every movement deliberate and cautious. The silence grew oppressive. Even the faint hum of the city—the distant thrum of car engines, the occasional bark of a dog—seemed to have evaporated, leaving only the heavy weight of anticipation. Then came the sound of footsteps. Slow, deliberate, and unnervingly steady. “Run,” Valentin ordered, his voice a firm command as he pushed Ember ahead of him. “No,” she protested, grabbing his arm. “I’m not leaving you!” His expression softened for a fleeting moment, a glimpse of vulnerability breaking through the hardened resolve. “I need you to trust me,” he said, his voice quiet but insistent. “Please, Ember.” Before she could respond, a figure emerged from the shadows. The man’s features were sharp, his skin unnaturally pale, and his eyes glowed faintly with an otherworldly light. Ember didn’t recognize him, but the predatory aura he exuded made her blood run cold. “Well, well,” the man said, his voice smooth and mocking. “Valentin, always so predictable.” “Step aside, Marcus,” Valentin growled, his voice low and dangerous. “This doesn’t concern you.” Marcus chuckled, the sound dark and menacing. “Oh, but it does,” he replied, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Kristof made sure of that.” Ember’s grip on Valentin’s arm tightened, her fear bubbling over into panic. “What does he mean?” she whispered, her voice shaking. Valentin didn’t answer. He stepped in front of her, his broad shoulders shielding her from Marcus’s predatory gaze. “Stay behind me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. In an instant, Marcus lunged. The world seemed to tilt as the night erupted into chaos. Ember’s heart thundered in her chest as she realized just how far Kristof was willing to go to tear them apart.