Chapter 381: At Least To Run Far From It

Arian tried his hardest not to look at the body.He knew, logically, that the man had come to kill him. He knew it was necessary. But knowing something and accepting it were two very different things. His eyes kept drifting toward the ground instead, toward the disturbed dirt, the broken leaves, anything that wasn't that.

"He…" His throat felt tight. "Who was he? And how did you—"The words fell apart before he could finish them.

Caius noticed the way Arian had flinched earlier, the way he'd backed away like a startled animal. Something had tugged at him then. Not anger. Not irritation. Not frustration. Definitely not pity. He didn't know what it was, and that annoyed him more than it should have.

"It's my business," Caius said flatly. "It doesn't concern you."

Arian stared at him in disbelief, "He tried to kill me," he shot back. "I think that makes it my business."

Caius turned away.

He'd repaid his debt. That should've been the end of it. He should disappear back into the shadows where he belonged.

But he stopped.

Without turning back, he said, "If you want to know who wants you dead, it'll cost you. I don't do anything for free."

He drew a clear line between them. Arian should not get any wrong ideas. They are not close, whatever was owed has been repaid.

Arian swallowed. He understood the logic. They weren't friends. Caius didn't owe him anything. Still, it stung. Not because it was unfair—but because Caius knew. He knew Arian couldn't afford it.

Arian barely scraped by. Without Sara, he'd probably be sleeping on the street. Now, on top of that, someone wanted him dead.

Just as he felt he had pulled things together, it started falling apart.

People were looking for him. He didn't know who. He didn't know why. He didn't even know how far he'd need to run.

But he wanted to live.

"You know I can't afford it," Arian said quietly. "So how can I pay?"

Caius didn't answer.

He tossed a card over his shoulder and walked away, disappearing into the trees as if he'd never been there.

Arian picked it up. An address. A bar. Probably a front for something else.

He exhaled slowly and looked around.

The herbs he'd gathered were ruined—crushed into the dirt, scattered everywhere. His chest tightened, but he forced himself to breathe. He wanted to leave and cover himself with a blanket. His heart has been racing, and it didn't feel like it would stop.

His face felt warm, and the only thing he felt was fear.

He fought against his instincts, he did not turn to leave.

Instead, he turned back toward the forest and went deeper in.

His legs shook. His hands trembled. But he kept going.

He needed the money.

And fear wasn't going to pay his bills. He already owed Sara too much.

As he kept picking herbs, his hands moving on instinct, the sound came back.

The scream.

It replayed in his head over and over, like it had carved itself into his skull. Arian flinched, nearly dropping what he was holding. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, wishing it would stop.

It didn't.

His brows knit together as he tried to force his thoughts elsewhere. Anything else. The smell of damp earth. The feel of leaves brushing his fingers.

Instead, something worse surfaced.

Memories he didn't want.

A child backed into corners. A voice yelling. Being small. Being powerless. Being told, again and again, to stay quiet, to disappear.

"No," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "Not that." Even if he didn't remember experiencing it, what he saw that day was enough to hurt him.

Then another thought slipped in, unwanted but persistent.

You've lived this life many times.

The old hag's words echoed in his mind. He grimaced and huffed quietly. "Yeah. Sure," he muttered. "I'll take that with a grain of salt."

Still… if there was even a chance it was true, then running blindly didn't feel smart anymore.

The only real lead he had was his old family. His father had clearly been a noble. And half-wolves like him weren't exactly common. That combination alone should narrow things down.

When he finally made it back to town, sore and exhausted, he went straight to Sara.

He didn't mention Caius. Not his name. Not the card. Not the bar.

"Is there anyone else who gathers information?" he asked instead. "Anyone reliable? I need to know about the wolf clan."

Sara leaned against the counter, thinking. "Other than the underground types?" she said slowly. "Hmm… You could try the merchants from the Lion Kingdom."

Arian looked up. "The Lion Kingdom?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "They're the middlemen. Wolves don't deal directly with panthers, panthers don't deal with other clans either. Everyone goes through the lions. Goods, messages, rumours—you name it."

That made sense.

Arian nodded. "Okay. That might work."

Sara watched him for a moment, her expression softening. "Do you want to learn about your past?"

He blinked.

"Sorry," she added quickly. "I'm not trying to pry. You just… Looked really rattled when you came out of Ravaha's tent. I just want to make sure you're okay."

Arian didn't take offence. Instead, he thought about it.

About being hunted. About not knowing why. About running without knowing where to run from.

"I think…" he said slowly, "…I do want to know."

Sara stayed quiet, letting him finish. This poor wolf had been through so much.

"Not because I want to go back," he added. "But because if I know what it is, maybe I can run far enough this time."

Sara nodded, worry still in her eyes—but she didn't argue.

If that was what he wanted, then that was all that mattered. She did not know much about this friend, nor his real name. Only the new name he started to go by, and his personality now.

He went from being carefree to stern after learning about the truth. She was worried he was depressed, but he bounced back quickly. He started to smile more, started to crack some jokes, and was overall a good roommate.

She would have never thought that saving an amnesiac wolf would give her a good friend.