I laugh brokenly, the sound brittle to my ears, filling the empty space all around me and echoing out into the night. I can’t even lead myself there. Forget about anyone else.
I step into a hole and lose my balance, fall face-first on the hard ground, my reflexes too slow to catch myself. I roll to my side, my chest shuddering. My nose smarts and I reach up to gingerly touch it, pulling my hand back. A hissing breath escapes me at the dark splash of blood on my fingertips, visible even in the night.
Panting, I sit up, resting my elbows on my knees for a long moment. My tongue feels thick, the inside of my mouth like sandpaper. I drop my head into my hands, gathering my strength, preparing myself to get up and keep moving. Keep going. It’s all I can do. Either that or I stay here in this spot and die.
Exhaling a heavy breath, I lift my head, bracing myself for the next push.
And that’s when I see it. Arcs of light in the distance, jerking wildly through the air. Flashlights.
My heart kicks faster as adrenaline shoots through me. I struggle to my feet, hope surging. It could be anyone, but wouldn’t the patrols be in a vehicle? As well as goons from the Agency? Who but carriers would be on foot out here in the middle of the night? I want to believe it’s someone from the Resistance. Every fiber of me strains, yearning for it to be them.
Take cover, hide, and die. Eventually. That’s my likely fate. Or I can get closer and see who’s out there. That’s what Caden would do. He’d take a risk. He’d trust.
I push myself to my feet and start walking.
It seems to take forever, but once I’m close enough that I can count them, I stop. Before they can see me, I crouch low and squint at the three shadowy shapes limned in moonlight. Men. They’re too big to be females. The one in the middle holds the flashlight. They’re not especially quiet. They tromp around, their steps heavy, their voices jarring on the otherwise silent night.
Squatting, I inch closer even though my gut already tells me it’s not Caden or any of his crew. They would never be this loud . . . lumbering around like elephants in the semidarkness. They might as well announce their presence with a bullhorn. Stupid. I balance my weight on my heels, preparing to wait until they pass.
Suddenly a rattle sings nearby, shaking its feverish warning. I know the sound for what it is. Crying out, I stumble away, landing on my back. I hear the snake strike, hitting the ground near my boot. I yelp. My hands claw at the dirt, trying to get away. I keep moving until the snake doesn’t sound close anymore, its rattle fading as it slithers off.
But then there are other sounds. Light swings wildly in the hands of someone running. Feet pound toward me.
“This way! Over there!”
I scramble to my feet and start running, not caring how loud I am. Fear chokes me. Feet shake the ground after me. I push on, wheezing, my lungs burning. Until now, I didn’t realize how much the day had drained me.
A body slams into me, and I eat dirt. The immense force pushes the air out of me. A hard hand slams down on my shoulder and flips me over. Terror blocks the pain. It’s all I feel rushing through my blood as I stare up at three men. A beam of light hits me in the face. I immediately size them up, not missing the imprints on their necks. One looks young, around my age, but the other two are older. One of the older men is on top of me. He’s huge, thick with muscle and fat.
“Look what we have here.”
The young guy peers down at me and points at my neck. “Look. She’s a carrier, too.”
“On the run like us, sweetheart?” The guy pinning me leers. There’s no other word for it. His nose is so sunburned it glistens, blistered and peeling at the same time. He pants from exertion, staring down at me like he’s caught a prize catfish.
I gulp for breath, trying to get words out. “Get off. You’re crushing me.”
The other older guy has an infected eye. It’s swollen and oozing with pus and turns my stomach. He doesn’t look too bothered over it, though. He laughs and slaps the big guy on the shoulder, motioning with his flashlight that he should move. “Get off before you break her, Nate.”
Nate clambers off me, but still hangs on to my wrist as if I might somehow make a run for it.
Gross Eye Guy assesses me, looking me up and down. “Kind of a mess, aren’t you, girl?”
“She’s still a nice piece, Leo.” Nate scratches his bristly jaw, and his eyes gleam with a light that makes my skin crawl.
“She is. She is.” Leo nods in agreement.
Nate and Leo exchange glances. The younger guy watches me dumbly, unaware of the meaningful look passing between the two older men. But I don’t miss it. I know exactly what that look means.
“We’ve been traveling for a long time,” Nate drawls, his thick, sausage-like fingers flexing on my wrist.
“Weeks,” the boy inserts.
“Haven’t been this close to a woman in all that time.” Leo flicks the flashlight’s beam up and down my body. A pause follows. Nate’s breath crashes near my ear. I give the slightest tug on my wrist just to check—the motion sends arcing pain straight to my sore shoulder—but he’s holding fast.
Leo cuts his gaze to the boy. “Hold her other arm, Andy.”
I react to this command like someone just fired a gun at the starting line. I struggle, thrashing my body as Andy makes a grab for my other arm. I catch a glimpse of his bewildered gaze. He doesn’t quite know what he’s doing, I realize. He’s simply accustomed to following these two blindly. He was probably just a high school kid like me when he was told he had HTS. One moment working on geometry, the next hitting the road with these Neanderthals.
Nate’s grip tightens and twists, pulling at my skin—a vise I can’t escape. I kick him, aiming directly for the shin. I put everything I have into it, and the hard toe of my boot connects with a crack.
He howls an obscenity. His hold loosens enough for me to pull free. Andy offers no resistance, staring slack-jawed at his giant friend.
I tear off, adrenaline shooting through me, and that helps. Wind rushes me. My legs pump faster, my breath escaping in loud puffs. Pants. Sobs.
I hear them in pursuit. Feet thundering. Calling out ugly things in loud, brutal voices. They don’t care about keeping quiet. One of them laughs. A demented, crazy sound. I know it’s not Nate. His curses burn my ears, still going strong.
I imagine their hands right behind me, reaching, swiping so close. Maybe it’s that thought that makes it a reality. The boy brings me down, catching me midstride. Slams me chest-first into the ground. I’m not surprised. He’s the youngest, the most fit.
He flips me over with a triumphant smile on his face. It’s a hard thing to see, especially as I slide a blade into his ribs.
A knife I hardly recall removing from my pocket. Instinctively, I went for it. And just as instinctively, I buried it inside him. Warm wetness rushes over my fingers. His smile slips into a loose-lipped O of shock. I scurry backward, taking my knife with me. His hand goes to the wound. Dark liquid gushes between his fingers, but I don’t stick around to watch.
I’m on my feet. Running again. I don’t look back. Not even when I hear the angry bellow from one of the other two carriers. Evidently seeing my handiwork pissed them off. I only wish I had managed to stab Goliath. Suddenly the expression “no quarter given” has all-new clarity for me. They were going to hurt me before, but now they will make me wish for death.
I keep running. I can’t stop.
But how long can you keep this up?
The instant the thought enters my head, I kill it. I can do this as long as they can. Longer. I have to. I can outrun Nate surely. And I’m younger than Leo. I have to be faster, even as exhausted as I am.
Fingers catch the jagged ends of my hair and grab hold, knuckles grinding into my scalp. I scream, enraged, terrified, bewildered. I’m supposed to get away. How did I let him catch me?
We go down in a tangle of limbs. I swipe wildly with my arm, trying to cut him. Feral sounds rise from deep in my chest.
<
br /> “Davy! Davy! Stop! It’s me!”
My eyes focus on the face above me. “Caden?’ I choke, shaking with the sudden shock of seeing him. Crying out, I drop my knife and fling my arms around him, squeezing so hard I probably cut off his oxygen. I don’t even care about my protesting shoulder. Elation swells inside me, chasing away the terror.
He hugs me back, making shushing sounds, his mouth on my ear. Only then do I realize I’m sobbing. Fear and pain lift from me with each tear. His hand rubs smooth circles on my back. The easy, rhythmic stroking lulls me and quiets my blubbering.
I jerk violently and pull back in his arms, talking fast and feverishly, “Carriers!” My gaze darts around. “They’re coming—”
He seizes my arms, holding me steady in front of him. I resist, looking over his shoulder.
“Shhh, it’s okay. Junie and Terrence got one of them, and the other guy took off. He’s running for the hills. Probably shit himself.”
I peer into the night, marking Junie and two other shadows approaching. I moisten my dry lips and start to speak, but my voice escapes in a croak.
Caden snaps his fingers. “Water,” he calls out.
Terrence steps forward and offers me a bottle. My fingers fumble in my eagerness. Uncapping the lid, I drink noisily, water running down my chin and throat. I drink deep and long. They let me have my fill.
Lowering the bottle, I ask, hiccuping, “How did you find me?”
“Well, your little meet-and-greet with those guys wasn’t exactly quiet. Everyone within twenty miles probably heard, which means we need to get going and fast.” At the mention of this, he looks left and right, scanning the dark horizon.
I stare into the distance, at the boy I killed, his body nothing more than a bump in the landscape. “I killed one of them.” Just a kid. Probably younger than me.
“You had to,” Caden says instantly, automatically.
Junie steps up, looking so small between Terrence and the other guy I vaguely recognize. “That big one didn’t go down easy.” Squatting, she wipes her blade off in the dirt. “He was one angry mofo. Didn’t run. Not even when Terrence jumped on his back and started in on him. But we got him.” She makes a swiping motion to her neck.
Bile rises in the back of my throat. She’s so dispassionate as she utters this. And I guess I shouldn’t feel sick, especially knowing what he had planned for me. I push a hand against my stomach like that can help settle it.
She jerks a thumb behind her. “The other one ran off, Cade. You want us to go after—”
“No.” Caden wraps an arm around me and stares off into the horizon as if he can see the fleeing carrier. “Let the desert have him.”
Junie nods, her face softening as her gaze rests on me. “You’ve looked better. You okay?”
“I’m in one piece.” My voice trembles and I swallow. Was I supposed to lie and say I’m okay? I just killed my third person. I guess I do have a knack for it. A third life taken by my hands. Yes, justified, but did that really matter? Dead is dead. How many more will I kill? “Thanks to you.”
“Let’s get moving.” Still with one hand on my arm, Caden starts walking, his head rotating left and right, turning constantly, scanning the horizon. We move in the semidarkness, no flashlight to guide us, Caden leading us, the others close on our heels. Their tread falls silently on the night, a direct contrast with the other carriers—two of whom lie dead behind us. I close my eyes in a pained blink. The ugly thoughts won’t go away. Won’t stop digging claws into me.
So much killing. It’s forever there. Always. I can’t ever outrun it.
“Davy,” Caden says softly, not looking at me, staring out at the horizon. “What happened to the others? We went to the campsite when Tabatha didn’t return, but couldn’t find much in the dark.”
I swallow past the lump rising in my throat. His hand slides down my arm, his fingers catching and tangling with mine. My chest squeezes, pleasure there, humming beneath my skin, and I stop myself from pulling my hand free like his touch is too intimate for me to bear.
“What happened to the others?” His thumb strokes the back of my palm, just the softest graze, but it sends goose bumps up my arm.
He wants to know what happened. Of course he does. He’s the self-appointed savior of this group. And there was more to his relationship with Tabatha. An image of her in Caden’s arms bombards me. Whether he initiated that kiss or not doesn’t matter. He’ll be hurt when he learns that she’s gone, and I shrivel a little inside at this, knowing I’ll be the one to tell him. To hurt him with the news.
And then I remember him kissing me. My lips pulse and tingle for an instant. I suck in a lungful of air and shove that away. I can’t do that. Not right now. This isn’t about Caden and me. There is no Caden and me.
He slides me a look, waiting for my response. I squeeze his hand a little tighter, our palms flush. “Executed. All of them.” I force the words out. “About a dozen men surprised us. I was going to the . . . bathroom when it happened. I crept closer to see all I could, but it was too late.” My gaze swings to Caden. He keeps pace, not breaking stride, but his jaw locks tight. “There’s more,” I whisper.
“More than that they butchered us? Killed my . . . ?” His voice fades here. His mouth draws tight, and something pinches inside my chest.
He scrubs a hand over his face.
“You don’t have to explain your relationship to me,” I say softly. She’s gone. And he doesn’t owe me any explanation.
“No?” He cuts me a glance. “Of course not. You don’t care. You left.”
There’s no heat to his words, but I flinch and resist arguing that I do care. That a huge part of me was driven to get back here not just for my sake but to warn him. To tell him there’s a mole in his organization. This could happen again if he doesn’t find out who. More carriers just trying to get across the border could die. The compound could be raided.
Caden could die. . . .
I stumble and his arm goes around my waist, steadying me. “Easy. It’s not too far from here. You covered a lot of ground today.”
I manage a wobbly smile and lean into that arm, reveling in its strength. Because I need the support, but maybe also because he feels so good and solid and I crave that desperately. “I didn’t know where I was going.”
“Well, you were headed in the general direction.”
“Luck,” I murmur, because my prayers couldn’t have been answered. No one is listening.
They’ve been answered before.
I sift through memories of me begging, pleading for someone to help me when I was shot. And then Caden found me. A lucky coincidence?
“You said there was more?”
“Someone betrayed you.”
He shakes his head but keeps moving, his hand warm in mine. “Impossible.”
“Is it?” I glance behind me and lower my voice. Not that I don’t trust Junie or Terrence or the other guy specifically. I just don’t think it’s a good idea for it to get around the compound that there’s a spy among them before Caden is ready for it to be known. “Isn’t that what you are all so hyperconscious about? I heard the attackers talking. They got a tip from someone in the resistance cell.”
Caden glances back at Junie and the other two scouts, apparently understanding my hushed tone. “Not a word of this to anyone. I’ll decide what to do when we get back. I don’t want to panic everyone. I’ll figure this out. I’ll figure out what to do.” His voice lowers to a mutter here, like he’s telling himself this. A mantra that will somehow come true.
Something inside me clenches tight. I want to say that I’ll help. That he doesn’t need to figure this out alone. That I’m in this with him. It’s a crazy impulse . . . the kind I would have had before, when I was a girl who believed in happy endings. I manage to hold these words inside.
He looks down at me like he senses my struggle. He gives my hand a slight squeeze. “Right now let’s just get back.”
I hesitate, not so
sure that me going back to the compound is such a good idea. Do I really want back into that viper’s nest?
Do you really have a choice?
Like he can read my mind, he adds, “It’s safer than staying out here. Besides, if this spy wanted to expose the compound, he would have already informed on us.”
Good point. And one I can’t argue with. I’m too exhausted. So I breathe and let Caden lead me. Let the warmth of his hand seep into me and steady the skip of my heart. Viper’s nest or not, he’ll be there. I try to pretend this doesn’t mean so much. Everything, really.
* * *
Your experiment has failed. We’ve been overrun. The carriers raided our arsenal, stole several of the vehicles. Killed three of our staff, injured over a dozen. They were long gone before we could even get up and functional again. . . .
The camp is lost.
—Correspondence to Dr. Louis Wainwright from Commander Harris, Director of Operations at Mount Haven
NINETEEN
THEY’RE WAITING FOR US WHEN WE RETURN. WELL, Marcus and his crew anyway. It’s late and most of the compound is asleep. At first glance, I don’t notice anyone on the main floor below us. It’s quiet as a tomb as we descend the stairs. Until Marcus’s voice rings out. “What’s she doing here? Where is Tabatha?”
I’m not a face anyone in the compound expected to see again. I realize this as Marcus and his thugs crowd around the base of the stairs, backing away only to give us room when we reach the bottom.
“We found her out there,” Caden begins explaining.
“You didn’t blindfold her again?” Marcus’s gaze flits over us, presumably searching for the scrap of fabric that served as a blindfold.
Junie sighs. “Not this again.”
“Yes, that!” Ruben takes a menacing step in her direction. She holds her ground, not even flinching. She trains wide eyes on him as she lifts her chin. Like she’s more than ready to take him on.
“That’s it!” Marcus stabs a finger in my direction. “I want her—”