Chapter 219 The Hunt Has Began

Liam shoved open the hotel room door, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on him like a mountain. He didn’t speak. He didn’t wait. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, he pulled off the long coat he was wearing and tossed it onto the bed with a frustrated grunt. His jaw was clenched, muscles tight with rage and restraint. His hand reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, his fingers already dialing before he’d even walked across the room.

The soft glow of the city beyond the hotel’s glass wall met his eyes, but he barely noticed the breathtaking skyline. He slid the glass door open, letting in the cold breeze as he stepped out onto the balcony. He needed air. But more than that, he needed answers. He needed options.

As the ringing began, his fingers tapped anxiously on the railing. Finally, on the third ring, she picked up.

"Liam?" Ella’s voice was smooth, slightly surprised, but calm. "I didn’t expect to hear from you this soon. What’s going on?"

He didn’t waste time. "How fast can you get me out of here?"

Ella paused for a second, her tone shifting immediately. "Out of Russia? What happened?"

"I don’t have time to explain. Just send the jet. I need it ready now."

Ella’s voice sharpened with concern. "You said you were staying for a week or two. What changed?"

"Ella," he snapped, harsher than intended, "something changed. I’m with Ann and Lana, and I need them safe. I need out. Now."

She exhaled on the other end. "Okay. I’ll prep the flight crew immediately, but Liam—this isn’t a grocery delivery. Russia isn’t right next door. You’ll have to hold out until dawn."

Liam’s fist tightened on the balcony rail. "I don’t have until dawn."

"You’ll have to. I can’t make a jet materialize midair."

Liam lowered the phone, jaw locked. "Then move it as fast as you can," he muttered and ended the call.

Behind him, Lana was already on the floor, dragging their bags out from under the bed and tossing clothes into them without order. She didn’t speak to Liam; she didn’t have to. She was already ten steps ahead.

Ann stood a few feet away, arms crossed, her posture stiff. She wasn’t helping. She wasn’t sitting either. She was just watching. Her eyes flicked between Liam and Lana, her face unreadable.

"Are you gonna help?" Lana asked flatly, not looking up. Her hands kept moving, scooping Liam’s shirt and socks into the main duffel bag. "Or are you just gonna keep standing there staring?"

Ann blinked, then muttered, "O-Okay," and dropped to her knees beside her. She began folding clothes, slower and more precise than Lana’s rushed packing.

For a few minutes, there was only the rustle of fabric, the zipping of a side pouch, the sound of heavy breaths and stress filling the air like smoke. But Lana couldn’t hold it in. She glanced sideways at Ann, her eyes narrowing. "Why are you mad at him?"

Ann didn’t respond. Her fingers froze for half a second but then continued folding.

Lana smirked under her breath. "You think I don’t notice? I’ve known Liam a long time now. I know the look on your face."

Still no answer. Just tension.

"I know what this is about," Lana said, softer this time, but sharper, as if aiming for Ann’s chest with words. "You’re mad because he’s not sweeping you off your feet. Because he didn’t run to you first. Because when he looks at you, he doesn’t have that shine in his eyes."

Ann stopped moving. Her hands gripped the hem of one of Liam’s shirts a little tighter.

"He’s worried," Lana continued, "but not like you want him to be. You wanted him to hold your face, tell you it’s okay, whisper that he’ll protect you. But he’s too busy trying to make sure we survive."

Ann slowly looked up at her. Her eyes didn’t have the usual fire. They were distant. Hurt.

Lana gave a small, breathless laugh. "Unbelievable," she muttered, shaking her head as she returned to zipping up one of the travel bags. "You think this is a fairy tale?"

Ann finally spoke, her voice low but tight. "I’m not mad at him. I just..." she paused, her lips pressing together. "I didn’t expect him to look at me like that."

"Like what?" Lana asked without even glancing up.

"Like I betrayed him. Like I’m... broken."

Lana stopped. Her hands hovered over the last bag. Slowly, she turned to Ann. "He doesn’t think that. You’re projecting. You’re the one who feels broken."

Ann lowered her head again, silent.

Liam reentered the room just then, his face cold. "We’re not staying the night. We head to the pickup point after midnight."

"You still haven’t eaten," Lana said quickly, eyes flicking to his face.

"I’ll eat when we’re in the air," he muttered, already turning toward the door.

Ann rose and looked at him. "Liam..."

He stopped but didn’t face her.

She opened her mouth, hesitated, then just shook her head. "Nothing."

Lana exchanged a look with her, one full of pity and warning. Then they followed him out the door.

They reached the car, a black SUV Liam had rented under a fake name earlier that week. Its sleek, armored body glinted under the pale overhead lights, a final sliver of modern safety in a world spiraling toward horror.

Liam popped the trunk, tossing in his duffel bag with a loud thud, then took Lana’s pack and arranged it beside his. Ann stood silently behind him, her fingers clenched tightly around the strap of her own bag, knuckles white from the pressure.

When she finally spoke, her voice was low and shaky. "No matter how far we run... Boris will catch up to us."

Liam’s hand froze on the trunk. He didn’t turn to face her, not immediately. His jaw tightened, and a muscle twitched near his temple.

Then he exhaled slowly, cold breath curling into the air. "Look around, Ann," he said, voice quiet but full of a buried storm. He turned to face her, eyes sharp and burning. "It’s just the three of us... against an army. You think we should just sit still and wait for him to knock?"

She flinched. Her lips parted, but no words came out.

"No," she whispered eventually.

"Good." Liam nodded firmly and moved toward the driver’s seat. "Then get in the damn car. If we can stay alive long enough for Ella’s jet to land, we might actually make it out of this mess."

As he gripped the door handle, Ann stepped forward quickly. "Wait—Liam..."

He paused, brows furrowing.

"You should leave me behind," she said, voice full of quiet desperation. "I’m the one he’s tracking. If you go without me, you and Lana might actually have a chance."

Lana, already opening the back door, groaned loudly. "Are you serious right now?" Her tone was sharp, frustrated, edged with something close to disbelief. She spun around, walked straight up to Ann, and shoved her lightly but firmly toward the car.

"You’re not doing this ’martyr’ crap again," Lana snapped. "We don’t have time for it."

"Lana—"

"No. Enough." Lana shoved the back door open and gave Ann one last push. "Get in. You’re not the only one in danger."

Ann’s face twisted with conflict, but she didn’t resist any further. She climbed in, dragging her bag in with her. Liam exhaled through his nose, got behind the wheel, and started the engine with a powerful roar.

The car peeled out of the underground garage with a screech, and within seconds, they were back on the dark, winding roads of the Russian countryside. Trees whipped by on either side like silent sentinels, watching their escape.

Liam’s eyes stayed on the road, hands locked on the steering wheel like iron. His mind was racing, calculating distance, time, risk. They had a little under five hours until the jet touched down. Every second between now and then could be their last.

The sun had dipped completely beneath the horizon now, leaving only a faint reddish glow on the edge of the sky — a fading reminder of warmth. Night was beginning to creep over the land like a predator.

In the backseat, Ann sat rigid, arms wrapped around herself. Her eyes flicked constantly to the windows, watching every dark corner, every flicker of movement. She felt it in her bones. The shift. The danger. The unnatural presence in the air.

Then, almost like a whisper, she said it.

"They’re free now..."

Liam’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, catching her pale face in the reflection. "What did you say?"

Ann’s voice was barely audible. "The sun’s gone. The hunt’s started."

A cold silence fell over the car like a curtain.

Lana sat forward slightly in her seat, her body tense, fingers twitching. Her fire powers were at the ready — she could feel the heat pulsing beneath her skin, like embers waiting to ignite. She didn’t trust the night. Not anymore.

Liam’s jaw tightened. He pressed down on the gas pedal, pushing the car harder. "We’ll make it," he said, more to himself than anyone else.