Page 11 — The Escape
The rain hadn't stopped since the city burned behind them. It poured like the sky was trying to wash away everything that had happened — the smoke, the blood, the truth neither of them could unhear.
Headlights cut through the dark highway as the black sedan sped along the deserted road. Eli's hands gripped the steering wheel tight enough that his knuckles turned white. His reflection in the mirror looked foreign — wet hair plastered to his forehead, eyes sharp with exhaustion and fear. Beside him, Adrian sat slumped in the passenger seat, his shirt darkened with blood that refused to stop seeping through the fabric.
"Keep driving," Adrian muttered, his voice gravel low and hoarse. He stared out the window, his jaw clenched, but the tremor in his hand betrayed the pain.
Eli's heart stuttered. "You're losing too much blood."
"I've had worse," Adrian said, his lips curling in a ghost of a smirk. It was the kind of arrogance Eli had come to recognize — not pride, but armor. "We just need to make it to the border before dawn."
Eli glanced at him. "And then what?"
Adrian didn't answer.
For a moment, only the storm spoke. Thunder rolled in the distance, the sky a restless ocean of gray. The city's glow was long gone, swallowed by the horizon. All that remained was darkness — and the two of them.
Eli exhaled shakily, trying to push back the weight pressing down on his chest. Hours ago, he'd been nothing more than a name on Adrian's payroll. A nobody. A kid who had fallen too deep into someone else's world. But now… he wasn't sure what he was anymore — a fugitive? A mistake? Or the one person Adrian Cole hadn't been able to destroy.
He risked another glance. Adrian's head had tipped back against the seat, eyes half closed. For a second, he looked human — stripped of the ruthless calm he wore like a crown. Just a man, bleeding quietly, breathing through the pain.
"Adrian," Eli said softly. "Stay with me."
Adrian's lashes fluttered. "I'm not dying tonight."
"Then stop trying to prove you're invincible." Eli's voice broke, and he bit down on it. "I can't— I can't do this alone."
Something flickered across Adrian's face — guilt, maybe, or regret — before it vanished beneath his usual calm. "You won't have to."
Eli turned back to the road, blinking hard. He wanted to believe him. God, he wanted to. But the rain blurred everything, and the road ahead felt endless.
They drove in silence until the gas light blinked on. Adrian stirred, eyes opening fully now. "There's a station up ahead," he said. "Pull over. I'll take care of it."
"You're in no condition to—"
"Eli." The sound of his name stopped him. Adrian's tone was soft but final, a quiet command that carried the weight of years of control. "Trust me."
Eli swallowed hard and nodded. When he pulled into the empty gas station, the rain softened to a drizzle. The flickering lights buzzed above them, half the bulbs dead, the others giving off a sickly yellow glow. The air smelled of wet asphalt and gasoline.
Adrian pushed the door open, staggering slightly when his feet hit the ground. Eli jumped out after him.
"Hey— wait, just— let me help." Eli rushed to his side, slipping under Adrian's arm to steady him. The warmth of his body was startling against the cold air. He could feel the faint tremor in Adrian's muscles, the strain hidden behind his calm expression.
Adrian didn't resist. For once, he let Eli guide him. Together, they made their way into the small station store, where a bored-looking clerk dozed behind the counter.
Eli grabbed a first aid kit and a bottle of water from the shelves. Adrian paid in cash, his movements careful, deliberate. The clerk didn't even look up.
Back in the car, Eli set the supplies down and turned to him. "Take off your jacket."
Adrian arched a brow. "You giving orders now?"
"Someone has to." Eli's voice was firm, though his hands trembled as he reached for Adrian's sleeve. The fabric was soaked through with blood. When he peeled it away, he saw the wound — a deep cut along Adrian's side, raw and angry. Not fatal, but bad enough to make him weak.
Eli cleaned it with trembling hands. Adrian barely flinched, just watched him in silence. His gaze was unreadable — intense, searching. When Eli finally wrapped the bandage around his torso, Adrian's hand caught his wrist.
"Why are you doing this?" Adrian asked quietly.
Eli froze. "Because you'd do the same."
"No," Adrian said. "You don't know that."
Eli met his eyes — storm-gray, sharp even now. "I do. Because if you didn't care, you'd have left me behind hours ago."
The silence stretched. The rain outside thickened again, tapping against the windows like a heartbeat.
Adrian let go of his wrist slowly, his expression unreadable. "You're wrong about me."
"Maybe," Eli said, sitting back. "But maybe I'm not."
Adrian looked away. "Caring gets people killed."
"Not caring does too."
That made him turn. There was a rawness in Eli's tone that cut deeper than any wound. He looked exhausted — his face pale, his eyes rimmed with red — but he was still here. Still fighting.
Adrian's chest tightened. "You should sleep," he said after a moment.
"I can't." Eli leaned back, his head hitting the seat. "Every time I close my eyes, I see it — the fire, the look on their faces… how it all went to hell."
Adrian stared at him for a long moment. Then, quietly, he said, "You saved my life back there."
Eli's eyes flicked open. "Don't make that sound like it's something I should regret."
Adrian's lips twitched. "I don't."
"Good." Eli turned away, looking out the window again. "Then maybe it wasn't all for nothing."
The engine hummed softly as Adrian started the car again. The road ahead stretched like a ribbon of darkness, twisting through forests and fog. Miles passed in silence. Occasionally, the headlights caught the edge of a sign or the glint of rainwater on the guardrails, but there was no one else on the road. Just them — fugitives from their own past.
After a while, Eli's breathing steadied. His head tilted slightly, resting against the window. Asleep at last.
Adrian glanced at him — really looked at him. The boy who had somehow walked straight through every defense he'd built. He wanted to tell himself it was temporary — that this was just survival, just necessity. But that lie was starting to crack.
He drove through the night, bleeding quietly beneath his fresh bandage. The pain was sharp, but it kept him awake. It reminded him he was still alive.
By dawn, the rain had stopped. A soft mist rolled across the hills as the first light broke over the horizon. Adrian pulled off onto a dirt road, following a narrow path until an old farmhouse appeared through the fog.
"This place is abandoned," he murmured to himself. "Perfect."
He parked and sat there for a long moment, watching the sunrise stain the world gold. Then he reached over and brushed a strand of hair from Eli's forehead.
"Wake up," he said softly.
Eli stirred, blinking in confusion. "Where are we?"
"Safe enough for now."
Eli looked out the window at the weathered farmhouse. "You sure?"
Adrian gave a faint smile. "No. But it's the best we've got."
Inside, the air smelled of dust and wood. The floorboards creaked under their steps. Adrian checked the rooms with practiced precision, ensuring no one had been there recently. Satisfied, he turned to Eli. "Get some rest."
"What about you?"
"I'll keep watch."
Eli hesitated, then said quietly, "You can't keep running forever."
Adrian looked at him — really looked. "Neither can you."
For a moment, their gazes held, something unspoken passing between them — a promise, or maybe a warning. Then Eli turned and walked toward the small room at the back of the house.
Adrian stayed at the window, staring out at the empty fields. The sky was pale now, the storm finally gone. But the silence that settled over him wasn't peace — it was the kind that comes before the next battle.
When he finally turned, Eli was leaning against the doorway, watching him. "You never sleep, do you?"
Adrian smirked faintly. "Bad habit."
Eli stepped closer. "You keep pretending you don't care, but I see it. Every time you look at me, every time you pull me back instead of letting me fall—"
"Eli," Adrian interrupted, his voice low. "Don't."
Eli stopped. "Why not?"
"Because if you keep looking at me like that, I won't be able to stop."
The air between them shifted — sharp, charged, alive. Eli's breath caught, and for a heartbeat neither moved. Then Adrian looked away, breaking the moment.
"Get some sleep," he said again, softer this time.
Eli nodded, but before he turned, he said quietly, "You're not as heartless as you want to be."
Adrian didn't respond. He just stood there, listening to Eli's footsteps fade down the hall.
When the sound was gone, he pressed his palms against the windowsill and let out a long, quiet breath. The storm had passed, but inside, it still raged.
Outside, dawn broke clean and bright — a new day, but one built on the ruins of everything they'd left behin
d.
And somewhere deep inside, Adrian Cole knew: this escape wasn't the end. It was the beginning of something neither of them could ever run from.