Chapter 18 - No Way Out

𝑻he rain fell in relentless sheets, turning the cobblestone paths of Blackthorn College into slick ribbons of reflected lamplight. Elara pulled her hood tighter around her face, her breath coming in 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 bursts as she darted between the shadows of the Gothic arches. The whispers followed her—hushed, mocking, slithering through the downpour like serpents.

*"She's the one."*

*"Look at her—pathetic."*

The voices weren't just in her head. They never were.

A hand grabbed her wrist, yanking her into the alcove of the old library. She gasped, her free hand already curling into a fist, but the familiar scent of cedar and something faintly metallic stopped her.

"Lucas," she breathed, her pulse still racing.

His golden eyes glowed faintly in the dark, his grip unyielding. "You shouldn't be out here alone."

"I had to." She swallowed hard, glancing over his shoulder. "They're watching me. The others—they know something's wrong with me."

Lucas's jaw tightened. "Nothing's wrong with you."

She laughed bitterly. "Then why do I hear them? Why do I see things no one else does?"

The wind howled through the arches, carrying with it the distant sound of laughter—cruel, sharp. The students here thrived on secrets, on the suffering of those who didn't fit. And Elara? She was an open wound in their perfect, twisted world.

Lucas's thumb brushed over her wrist, his touch sending a shiver through her. "You're different. That's not a crime."

"It is here."

His gaze darkened. "Then we leave."

She blinked. "What?"

"Tonight. Now." His voice was low, urgent. "There's a place—far from Blackthorn, far from their whispers. A place where you won't have to hide."

Elara's chest ached. The idea of escape was intoxicating. But the fear—the deep, gnawing fear—held her back. "What if it's worse out there? What if I'm not just broken, but dangerous?"

Lucas's fingers slid up to cradle her face. "You're not broken. And if you're dangerous, then so am I."

The admission hung between them, heavy with unspoken truths. She'd always suspected there was more to him than the quiet, brooding transfer student who seemed to appear whenever she needed him. But this—this was confirmation.

A crash echoed from the courtyard, followed by raucous laughter. The Hunt—a twisted tradition where the students chased down whoever they deemed "unworthy" under the cover of stormy nights. Elara's breath hitched.

"They're coming," she whispered.

Lucas's grip tightened. "Then we run."

He didn't wait for her answer. Pulling her close, he turned and sprinted into the rain, his movements swift and sure despite the slick stones. Elara stumbled at first, her legs unsteady with fear, but the sound of footsteps gaining behind them sent a surge of adrenaline through her veins. She ran.

The campus blurred around her, the lanterns smearing into streaks of gold against the black. The voices rose, chanting her name like a curse.

*"Elara… Elara…"*

Lucas veered sharply toward the iron gates at the edge of the college grounds—the ones rumored to be locked by more than just metal. The stories said they were warded, that no one could leave Blackthorn without paying a price.

But Lucas didn't hesitate.

He slammed his palm against the rusted bars, and a pulse of something—something *other*—rippled through the air. The gates groaned, then swung open with a screech that drowned out the storm.

Elara's heart pounded. "How did you—?"

"Later," he growled, pulling her through.

The moment they crossed the threshold, the world shifted. The rain stopped. The voices vanished. The air itself felt lighter, warmer. Elara turned, her breath catching as the gates slammed shut behind them, sealing Blackthorn away like a nightmare.

But the relief was short-lived.

Lucas staggered, his knees buckling as he clutched his chest. A dark stain spread across his shirt, seeping through his fingers.

"Lucas!" She caught him before he could collapse, her hands trembling as she pressed against the wound. "What happened? When did—?"

His smile was weak, pained. "The price."

Her stomach dropped. "No. No, you didn't—"

"I told you," he murmured, his voice fading. "We leave. No matter what."

The forest around them seemed to hold its breath. The moon, full and silver, cast its glow over them like a silent witness. Elara's tears fell freely now, mixing with the blood on her hands.

"You idiot," she choked out. "You should've let me stay."

His fingers brushed her cheek. "Never."

And then the world went quiet.

But the silence didn't last.

A rustle in the trees. A presence, ancient and watching. Elara's head snapped up, her body tensing.

Something was coming.

And it had been waiting for her.