Chapter 13

Even without a mirror, Yuri knew a bruise had already risen where the man struck him. There was no obvious cut, so Cherriot’s concern seemed excessive, but if this continued, the distraction itself might cause an accident.

“Fine. Take your hand off. I’ll pull over when there’s a shoulder.”

Highway 1 offered few safe places to stop, much of the road having been carved through steep mountain terrain. Cherriot withdrew, folded his arms, and stared at Yuri with open displeasure. The scrutiny grated on him, so after another five minutes, Yuri pulled into a broad turnout.

The instant he shut off the engine, Cherriot leaned across the console.

“Do you have a first-aid kit? We need to put something on that.”

Medicine for a bruise? Yuri twisted one corner of his mouth, as though he had heard something absurd.

“Are you finished checking?”

“No. You’re probably hurt elsewhere too. Take off your coat. That madman earlier…”

Cherriot stopped. The memory of the gunshot seemed to darken his eyes.

“…He shot at you.”

He fell silent and studied Yuri for several minutes, lost in thought. Exhausted beyond patience, Yuri used the lull to let his body loosen. When he sank against the driver’s seat, fatigue swept over him in a heavy wave.

The dashboard clock read 3:00 a.m. Yuri had been awake for nearly twenty-four hours.

In the past, he had often gone two or three nights without sleep. Comfort had softened him. Now his body protested every hour. Deciding they needed at least a few hours of rest before choosing a destination, Yuri spoke.

“We’ll leave again soon. Once we find a rest stop, we’ll withdraw cash, and you can search for the kind of person you wanted. I’ll stay with you until someone else arrives.” He dragged a hand back through his hair and swallowed a tired breath. His eyes felt dry and full of grit. “Part of the reason the situation reached this point is that I failed to prepare thoroughly enough. I’ll make sure nothing gets as close to you as what happened at the hotel.”

He considered apologizing for what Cherriot had endured, then suppressed the impulse. It would sound hypocritical.

Cherriot listened without interruption. When Yuri finished, he answered in a low, rough voice.

“Why is that your fault?”

The words settled quietly through the car.

“It’s the fault of the pieces of trash who came to kill me.”

Cherriot sighed and reclined the passenger seat, then twisted toward the suitcase in the back. His shoulder struck the car roof with a dull thud. He pulled out a bottle of water and a handkerchief, uncapped the bottle, and dampened the cloth.

Yuri watched without comment. A moment later, wet fabric touched his face.

“The worst one is the gang leader who tried to have me killed when his own Omega was the one who lied about having a lover.” Cherriot wiped carefully at Yuri’s cheek. “I thought they only wanted to extort money. I never expected them to shoot on sight. I don’t know whether he loves that person that much or whether this is about honor. Honestly, I was scared.”

Contrary to Yuri’s assumption, the skin had split after all. Blood streaked the handkerchief when Cherriot drew it away.

Yuri frowned, not because of the sting, but because the attention was mortifying. He turned his jaw aside. Rather than seize him again, Cherriot simply followed the movement and leaned closer.

“Thank you for saving me,” Cherriot said. “The fact that you’re a bad person is separate from the fact that I owe you gratitude.”

Yuri stopped evading him.

The thanks caught him unprepared. Protecting Cherriot had been a job, and Yuri had not expected basic courtesy from someone who now despised him.

While Yuri remained still, Cherriot finished cleaning the blood. Perhaps warmed by his hand, the damp cloth felt lukewarm rather than cold, and the touch was less unpleasant than it should have been.

Fabric softener. Cherriot’s pheromones. The faint scent of skin lotion.

Another person’s smell surrounded Yuri at intimate range. His lashes trembled, and a useless awkwardness settled through him until movement felt impossible.

If there’s blood on me, it’s better to wipe it away.

For the moment, he let Cherriot do as he pleased. Even so, enduring another person tending his wound soon became unbearable.

“I’m not so different from the men who came after you.”

Cherriot shrugged.

“I know.”

The calm answer left Yuri speechless.

“I thought you didn’t even want to touch bad people.”

“Hating you and touching you are separate matters.”

That made no sense. People avoided filth because it disgusted them.

“If something disgusts you, you don’t touch it.”

“It’s fine because you’re my type.”

Again with his “type.” Since they had come this far, Yuri decided to challenge the bizarre fixation.

“…I don’t understand why you keep saying that to another Alpha.”

“I’m only telling the truth.” Cherriot looked down at him and smiled faintly. Some of the wariness in his eyes had eased. “Do you hate hearing it?”

Letting his guard down because Yuri had saved his life once was dangerously naive. People could still put a knife in your back after accepting help. Yuri found himself silently worrying over Cherriot’s innocence.

“It isn’t pleasant.”

“It’s a compliment.”

“Perhaps from an Omega. I don’t want to hear it from an Alpha.”

Strictly speaking, he did not want to hear it from an Omega either, but another Alpha speaking that way belonged outside Yuri’s understanding of the world.

“Alpha or Omega, they’re still a person.”

“Alphas don’t touch each other like this. Perhaps they do with Omegas.”

At Yuri’s narrow-minded answer, Cherriot pulled the handkerchief away and laughed.

“Ha.”

The sound rolled low and deep. With only the corners of his mouth lifted, Cherriot tossed the bloodied cloth into the back seat, opened the passenger door, and stepped outside.

“You have no idea how incredible it can be between Alphas, do you?”

Yuri pushed himself upright with a frown. Cherriot beckoned from outside.

“Switch seats. I’ll drive. An injured man shouldn’t be behind the wheel.”

“…Stop talking nonsense and get back in.”

Cherriot, obedient only when immediate danger demanded it, had already returned to his usual willful self. He walked around to the driver’s side, rested one arm on the roof, and leaned down toward Yuri’s window.

TAP, TAP.

He rapped his knuckles against the glass. Yuri lowered it.

“I rested at the hotel, but you’ve been moving without a break. Drowsy driving is more dangerous than letting me take over. Don’t you agree?”

That was difficult to dispute. Yuri was not exactly sleepy, but he was profoundly spent, and the urge to close his eyes had surged without warning.

He hesitated, already feeling as though exhaustion had defeated him.

“You’re tired,” Cherriot said quietly. “You can rest.”

No cars passed along the dark mountain road. Only Cherriot’s voice remained.

Yuri kept both hands on the wheel and parted his lips to refuse, but no words came. At last, he released his grip. Cherriot opened the driver’s door as though he had been waiting for permission.

They changed places. Once Yuri closed the passenger door, Cherriot started the engine and took out his phone.

“Where should we go?”

Yuri leaned against the seat and rubbed his eyelids. He had driven with only one thought: get out of Vancouver. He had no destination. He had almost never been the one allowed to choose such things.

“Wherever you want.”

Cherriot possessed something Yuri did not, something only people like him seemed to have: the freedom to decide where they would go.

“Kelowna?”

“Too many people.”

“Tch.” Cherriot pouted, hooked an arm over the steering wheel, and glanced at Yuri. “Then what kind of place will work?”

“Somewhere quiet, with few people. Somewhere without young kids who’ll post online because they saw you walking around.”

“Does anywhere like that still exist?”

As they spoke, exhaustion crashed over Yuri so sharply that he fell silent. Cherriot noticed and began to drive.

He left his window open by a narrow crack, just wide enough for a faint breeze to enter, and handled the car with surprising steadiness. Yuri watched the darkness beyond the glass, fighting sleep in case something happened.

Beneath a black sky lit only by the headlights, great trees appeared in fragments wherever the beams reached them. Branches swayed in the rushing wind. As Yuri watched them dance, his eyelids gradually sank.

Somewhere beyond his fading vision, Cherriot began to hum softly.

How carefree.

A man who had barely escaped death could change moods with remarkable speed. That was Yuri’s final thought before sleep claimed him.

When Cherriot was angry, he carried himself with dignity. When he refused to take anything seriously, Yuri wanted to hit him. When he clung warmly and scattered kind words without shame, he became a man with more facets than Yuri had ever encountered in one lifetime.

He was like a red cherry that released a different flavor with every bite.

🜼 🜼 🜼