27. Aftermath

The Armstrong family's safe house was dark and quiet, nestled deep within the California hills. The curtains were drawn, and the only sound was the steady hum of an old ceiling fan. Becky sat by Freen's bedside, her hands trembling as she held onto one of Freen's.

Freen's face was pale, her breathing shallow but steady. The bite on her shoulder was bandaged, and her body remained unnaturally still. Becky's golden eyes were rimmed red from unshed tears, her chest tight with guilt and fear.

The faint taste of Freen's blood still lingered in her mouth, its intoxicating sweetness haunting her. It was both a reminder of what she had done and a cruel temptation she could never fully escape.

"She's strong," Robert said from the doorway, his voice calm but firm. "She'll pull through."

Becky didn't look at him. "I almost killed her," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

"But you didn't," Robert replied, stepping closer. "You stopped yourself. That's what matters."

Becky shook her head, her grip on Freen's hand tightening. "I should have been faster. If I'd gotten there sooner—"

"You can't blame yourself for this," Robert interrupted. "What matters now is keeping her safe. And for that, we need to stay focused."

In the living room, Billy and Irin sat across from each other, their expressions tense. Richie leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, while Robert stood near the window, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

"They'll come again," Billy said, his voice heavy. "We barely made it out last time."

"They won't stop," Richie added. "Not until the prophecy is broken—or Freen is dead."

Irin looked up, her eyes filled with worry. "She doesn't even know what she's fighting for. She doesn't know why this is happening to her."

Robert turned from the window, his expression hard. "Then we tell her. She deserves to know the truth."

"And what good will that do?" Richie asked. "Knowing won't change the fact that she's a target."

"It'll give her a chance to prepare," Robert countered. "If she's going to survive, she needs to understand what's at stake."

Billy leaned back, exhaling sharply. "And what about Becky? Do you think she'll just stand by and let Freen face this alone?"

The room fell silent.

Becky didn't know how long she'd been sitting there when Freen stirred. The faintest movement of her hand sent a jolt through Becky, her eyes snapping to Freen's face.

"Freen?" she whispered, leaning forward.

Freen's eyelids fluttered open, her gaze unfocused. It took her a moment to register her surroundings, her voice hoarse when she finally spoke. "Becky..."

Becky exhaled shakily, her forehead dropping to rest against Freen's hand. "You're awake," she said, her voice breaking. "I thought—I thought I lost you."

Freen managed a weak smile, though it was tinged with pain. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

Becky lifted her head, her golden eyes searching Freen's. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "For all of this. For not protecting you."

"You saved me," Freen said, her voice soft but resolute. "That's all that matters."

Tears slipped down Becky's cheeks as she leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Freen's forehead. "I'll keep saving you," she promised. "No matter what it takes."

In the quiet of the night, Irin's eyes glazed over as another vision took hold. She gasped, clutching the edge of the couch as images flashed through her mind: shadows moving through the trees, whispers of vengeance, and a familiar face twisted with rage.

"They're coming," she said breathlessly, her voice trembling.

Robert turned sharply. "How soon?"

"Not long," Irin replied, her expression pale. "They know where we are."

Billy pushed to his feet, his fists clenched. "Then we fight."

"No," Robert said firmly. "We retreat. Freen isn't ready, and neither are we. If we stay, we'll lose."

"But where do we go?" Richie asked.

Robert's gaze hardened. "Somewhere they can't follow. Somewhere we can regroup."

Becky appeared in the doorway, her expression fierce despite the tears still drying on her face. "We'll go wherever we have to," she said, her voice steady. "But we're not losing her. Not now, not ever."

****

The safe house was tense, the air heavy with anticipation. Every shadow seemed sharper, every creak of the old wooden floorboards louder. Freen sat on the worn couch, a blanket draped over her shoulders. Though her body still ached and her skin was pale, she felt stronger than she had the night before.

Becky sat beside her, her golden eyes scanning the room as if daring a threat to appear. Her hand rested lightly on Freen's, a silent promise of protection. Across from them, Robert, Billy, and Richie were deep in discussion, their voices low but urgent.

"We can't stay here," Robert said, his tone resolute. "Irin's vision was clear—they're coming. And they won't stop until they've torn this place apart."

"We're barely holding together as it is," Richie added, his arms crossed. "Freen needs time to recover, and fighting them here won't give us that."

Billy leaned against the wall, his jaw tight. "So, we run again? And what happens when they find us next time? We can't keep running forever."

"We don't have a choice," Robert replied. "If we stay, we'll lose everything."

Freen watched the conversation unfold, her mind still foggy from the events at the pool. She felt like an outsider in a battle she didn't fully understand.

"What's going on?" she asked, her voice hoarse but steady.

The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to her. Becky's grip on her hand tightened slightly.

"They're coming for us," Becky said softly. "We need to leave before they get here."

"Why?" Freen pressed. "Why are they after me? What did I do?"

Becky hesitated, glancing at Robert. He gave her a small nod.

"You deserve to know," Becky said finally, her voice heavy with emotion. "It's not about what you did, Freen. It's about what you are."

Freen's brow furrowed. "What I am?"

Robert stepped forward, his expression grave. "There's a prophecy," he said. "It was passed down through the werewolf bloodline, but it concerns all of us—vampires, werewolves, and you."

"What does it say?" Freen asked, her voice trembling.

"It says that a human girl, pure of heart, will fall in love with a vampire," Robert explained. "Their love will be the key to breaking the curse that binds our kinds—the werewolves to their transformations, the vampires to their thirst."

Freen's breath caught, her mind racing. "You think... that's me?"

"We know it's you," Richie said quietly. "And so do they."

The revelation left Freen reeling, but there was no time to process it fully. The family moved quickly, packing essentials and double-checking their escape plan. The safe house had been fortified, but it wasn't built to withstand a full assault.

Becky stayed close to Freen, her protectiveness growing with every passing moment. She helped Freen into a thick jacket, carefully avoiding the bandaged bite wound on her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Becky asked, her voice soft.

Freen looked up at her, her eyes searching Becky's face. "I don't know," she admitted. "But I trust you."

Becky's chest tightened, and she leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Freen's forehead. "I won't let anything happen to you," she whispered.

In the kitchen, Billy and Richie argued in hushed tones.

"We should stand and fight," Billy said, his voice low but firm. "We can't keep running forever."

"And get Freen killed in the process?" Richie shot back. "That's exactly what they want."

"We're not equipped for this," Robert interrupted, stepping between them. "If we fight now, we lose everything. The goal is to keep Freen safe, no matter what."

Billy clenched his fists but nodded reluctantly. "Fine. But we need a real plan. Running won't save us forever."

Robert's gaze hardened. "We'll figure it out. One step at a time."

As the first light of dawn crept through the drawn curtains, the Armstrong family and Freen prepared to leave. Irin stood by the window, her eyes distant as another vision overtook her.

"They're close," she whispered. "We don't have much time."

Becky guided Freen toward the car, her hand steady on Freen's back. Freen glanced over her shoulder at the safe house, a lump forming in her throat. It had been their sanctuary, however brief, and now they were leaving it behind.

"Do you think they'll find us?" Freen asked quietly.

"They'll try," Becky said, her voice firm. "But they won't succeed. Not while I'm here."

The family piled into the cars, their movements swift and practiced. As they drove away, the tension in the air was palpable, each of them acutely aware of the danger lurking just behind them.

Freen stared out the window as the safe house disappeared from view, her mind racing. The prophecy, the curse, the danger—it all felt surreal. But one thing was clear: she wasn't just a bystander in this fight anymore.

She turned to Becky, her voice steady despite the fear in her chest. "Whatever happens, I'm not going to run forever. I'll fight."

Becky's eyes softened as she reached for Freen's hand. "We'll fight together," she said.

The car sped down the winding road, leaving behind one battle and heading toward another.

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