Kept By Her Obsessed Minotaurs

24. Garron

24

GARRON

M y hands feel heavier with every passing mile as Calo, Lazir, and I continue our trek deeper into the forest. My shoulder throbs in time with my heartbeat. The healing poultices the healer applied do little to dull the ache that radiates from the arrow wound. But these discomforts are nothing, a mere irritation compared to the weight in my chest at the sight of Mara so still and silent on the stretcher.

When we finally choose a spot to make camp for the night, it's Lazir who takes the initiative, building a fire that crackles and pops in the quietude of the wilderness. It's only then, once the flames lick the cool night air with their warmth, that we finally allow ourselves the luxury of stopping, of letting our guard down just a fraction.

Calo eases himself down onto the fallen log beside the fire, exhaustion etching lines into his youthful features. He’s taken her injury the hardest, wearing it like a yoke across his shoulders, though he tries to mask it.

My gaze drifts from him to Lazir, who checks on Mara again, as he has countless times since we fled the town. His large hands move delicately across her bandaged side, making sure the wounds are clean, the dressings intact. We're brothers-in-arms, sharing a bond formed by shared experiences and hardship, but these moments of stillness reveal just how much of a toll these past days have taken on all of us.

Breaking the silence, I voice the concern gnawing at my conscience. "Once she's stable, we need to figure out our next move carefully. I won't have her in danger again because we acted too hastily."

Lazir, his eyes lingering on the rise and fall of Mara's chest, nods in agreement.

Lazir's movements are swift and calculated as he suddenly stands up and constructs a temporary tent. I watch him, a part of me admiring his efficiency, while another part remains coiled, ready for any sign of danger. My gaze shifts to the trees as Calo vanishes amongst them, his need to hunt, to provide, driving him even in his exhaustion.

I'm left alone with Mara, the soft glow of the fire casting shadows across her face. My hands, used to wielding weapons and tools, feel ungainly as I dampen a cloth and reach out to gently wipe her forehead. Her skin is too pale, the firelight making her look ethereal, fragile. It's a stark contrast to the strength she's shown, the fierce determination that's become as much a part of her as the dark hair that fans out around her.

The memory of that arrow, its path meant for my heart, sends an unwelcome shiver down my spine. I clench my jaw, the sight of her wounded, lying still and vulnerable, stirring something unfamiliar within me. Anger, guilt, a sense of protectiveness—they all swirl like a tempest in my chest.

"You shouldn't have done that," I mutter, the words barely more than a whisper. Her eyelids flutter, a sign that she's fighting her way back to consciousness. I lean in closer, my heart pounding in my ears as I wait for her to surface from the depths of her pain-induced slumber.

Her lips part, and the soft murmur that escapes them is music to my ears, even if the words are lost to the haze of her injury. I find myself holding my breath, waiting, hoping for more.

Her eyes open, the glassy sheen of pain making them appear almost translucent. She looks up at me, and for a moment, the world seems to stand still. Her lips curve into a ghost of a smile, the effort it takes for her to speak evident in the strain of her features.

"You're… okay," she whispers, her voice a mere thread of sound.

I bristle, my alpha instincts flaring. "Don't speak right now," I command, my tone harsher than I intend. "You're hurt. Don't think about me."

But Mara, as always, defies my expectations. Her smile doesn't waver, and there's a warmth in her gaze that I don't deserve. "I'm just… glad I could help you," she whispers.

I turn slightly and grab the medicine the healer gave us out of my pouch. The vial is cool against my skin, its contents a promise of relief for her. I bring it to her lips, my hand betraying my worry with its slight tremor. "Drink this," I order, my voice softening. "Then, close your eyes and sleep. You need to rest."

She complies, her trust in me as unsettling as it is humbling. I watch as the medicine works its magic, her body relaxing, her breathing evening out. Her eyes close once more, and I'm left in the silence of the night, with nothing but the crackling of the fire and the steady rhythm of her breaths to keep me company.

I sit there, my gaze never straying far from her. My mind races with thoughts I can't quite grasp, emotions I'm not accustomed to feeling. I'm a warrior, a leader, not one to be easily undone by a slip of a human. Yet here I am, my world tilted on its axis by this courageous, infuriating woman who's managed to burrow her way under my skin without even trying.

Calo soon emerges from the underbrush, his arms laden with a small bundle of roots and berries. His face lights up when I tell him Mara briefly regained consciousness. The relief in his eyes is palpable.

Lazir joins us, his gaze flicking to Mara before settling on the fire. "She saved your life, Garron. That means something," he says, the flames reflecting in his amber eyes.

I nod, my jaw clenching at the memory. "I won't deny it. I owe her," I say, my voice softer than usual.

Lazir shifts, his expression unreadable as he stares into the fire. "But she's still hiding something," he says quietly, his voice barely rising above the crackle of the flames. "She's always been hiding something from us. Don't you want to know what it is?"

I glance at Calo, who frowns, his hands tightening around the food in his lap. "Does it matter? She saved Garron. That's enough," he replies firmly.

My gaze hardens, my voice taking on a commanding tone. "No. It does matter. If we're going to protect her, we need to know everything. No more secrets," he insists.

Lazir nods, his eyes glinting in the firelight, and suggests, "Then we get her trust. We stay close to her. She'll tell us willingly eventually."

Our eyes meet, a silent pact forming between us. We'll protect Mara, no matter what. But we'll also uncover the truth. We must.

As the night wears on, I find myself unable to tear my eyes away from Mara's resting form. The gentle rise and fall of her chest is a reassuring rhythm in the otherwise quiet wilderness. I'm not used to feeling this... unsettled.

Calo busies himself with preparing the meal, his movements deliberate and precise. Lazir, ever the strategist, begins to outline potential plans for our journey ahead, his mind already turning with strategies and possible threats.

I listen with half an ear, my focus divided between my brothers and the woman who's become our unlikely charge. I find myself questioning my own motives. Is it merely gratitude that drives me to protect her, or is there something more? The thought is unnerving, and I push it aside, focusing instead on the tangible—the mission, the danger, the need for answers.