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The Risk We Take

Author: Park Cheal
last update Last Updated: 2025-03-14 14:06:03

Chapter Seven – The Risk We Take

(Fred’s POV)

I could hear their footsteps outside the cave. Steady. Strong. Unstoppable.

The soldiers were here.

I held my breath, pressing myself against the cold stone wall. My heart was beating so hard it hurt. My hands were shaking, but I forced myself to stay quiet.

Drake was beside me, still weak. His breath was shallow, his skin too pale. He hadn’t fully recovered from his injuries, and now… now they were here to finish him off.

I listened as one of them spoke.

“We know he’s inside,” a deep voice announced, loud enough for us to hear. “There’s no way out. He won’t last long.”

Another soldier chuckled. “Yeah. He doesn’t have to fight us. The poison will do the job for us.”

Poison?

My stomach dropped. That’s why Drake was breathing so heavily.

I didn’t know what it was—some kind of gas, maybe something in the air—something deadly to dragons.

I turned to Drake. His fingers twitched. His body tensed. His breathing was getting worse.

He was dying.

I panicked.

I covered his nose and mouth with my hand, pressing down hard. If he couldn’t smell it, maybe he wouldn’t breathe it in. Maybe it would buy us time.

Drake’s body jerked. His eyes snapped open in panic. He couldn’t breathe.

I could feel his pulse pounding against my palm. His fingers dug into my wrist. He was fighting against me, his body desperate for air. But I couldn’t let go.

If he breathed in more of that poison, he would die.

His struggles weakened. His eyelids fluttered.

No, no, no—

I felt helpless. My chest ached. What was I supposed to do?

Then I saw it.

The gun.

It was lying just a few inches away—one of the weapons left behind from the last fight. My hands moved before I could think.

I grabbed it.

I pointed it at the entrance.

And I pulled the trigger.

BANG!

The sound exploded through the cave, shaking the walls.

The soldiers outside cursed and ducked. They weren’t expecting that.

BANG!

I fired again, aiming near the entrance, making sparks fly.

“Shit!” one of them shouted. “He’s not weak! He’s got another plan!”

I could hear them whispering, hesitating.

Then—they ran.

Their footsteps faded into the distance. The night fell silent again.

I dropped the gun. My arms felt numb. My hands were shaking. My ears were ringing from the shots.

But I didn’t care.

I turned to Drake.

His body was weak. His sweat-clammy face was pale. He was breathing in ragged gasps.

"Drake?" My voice was rough, imperative.

Slowly, his golden eyes opened.

He gazed at me.

He seemed so tired.

So frail.

And yet there was something else there too. Something I couldn't quite get.

He swallowed with a dry heaving, his chest still rising and falling too fast. "Why?" His voice was little more than a whisper. "Why are you saving me?"

I came to an abrupt halt.

What was I supposed to say?

I shifted my head. I didn't know.

I should hate him. I should want him dead. I should want to be anywhere else.

But I didn't.

Drake was still staring at me, his eyes searching for something. Something I wasn't sure I could give.

He inched his hand closer slowly, his fingers brushing against mine. His touch was warm. Gentle.

"Everybody wants me dead," he whispered. His voice was so low, so raspy. "Even you should."

I swallowed hard. I should. But I didn't.

Drake took a slow, shaky breath.

And then—

he leaned in.

His lips touched mine, soft at first. Tentative. Hesitant. Like he was holding his breath, waiting for me to push him away.

I didn't.

I couldn't.

Something inside me broke, like a dam bursting. I kissed him back.

His hot breath on my skin, his fingers pulling me closer to him. It was deep, slow, desperate. Like we both knew this could be the last time.

Like we both knew that the danger wasn't over yet.

But for a moment, I didn't care.

I needed this.

I needed him.

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