Ronan (Mate’s Mark #1)

Chapter 32

Cameron

Freshly fueled and with a few spare containers of gasoline, we head into the wastelands. Never thought I’d be so excited to leave behind modern conveniences.

The van is even more cramped than it was when we first left the rebel camp, and it has everything to do with the petite green man on the floor with Boomerang. Nyx was obviously terrified of riding in the van. Trembling, his body was tense, eyes squeezed closed as he climbed inside, and he only calmed when he curled into Boomerang’s fur.

He’s a complete and utter mystery wrapped in a tiny, mossy frame. Other than the few one-word responses he’s given Ronan, he hasn’t spoken. Curiosity eats at me, conflicting with the need to respect his privacy. Unanswered questions surround him like a cloud.

How does he know Boomerang?

Why does he only speak the native language of the monsters?

What the hell happened to him ?

Thousands of questions surround him, and I wonder if we’ll ever get the answers.

“Earlier, when I was disposing of the bodies, I saw something.” Ronan’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, and as I turn, the sun silhouettes his profile, all those sharp lines softened by the light. He offers nothing else, just stares at the road as he drives.

“That was unnecessarily cryptic, Ro. We’ve discussed your drama queen tendencies, but clearly, those conversations haven’t yielded any positive results.” He scoffs and rolls his eyes, making sure I notice. “Okay, so you saw something… is that something good or something bad?”

“Something familiar.” He gestures towards the desolate landscape, where only dry, cracked earth and a handful of wind-battered trees break the horizon. “When I was scouting for Commander Bravis, there was a distinct rock formation we used to track our location. It’s shaped like a crow, and the beak points straight to the village.”

I sit up straighter, narrowing my eyes into the distance. “We’re close?”

Ronan nods. “If memory serves me correctly, it’s a hundred miles beyond the rocks. The terrain is rough out here, so we're forced to drive slowly to avoid a flat tire, and we got a late start to the day. If all goes according to plan, we should arrive tomorrow.”

Anticipation flutters in my chest, but I push it down. Until we see it with our own eyes, there’s no way to know what we’re walking into, and too much optimism only leads to disappointment. “The only thing left to do is hope nobody else has found this secret hideaway.”

“There is that,” he says, voice quiet .

I steal another glance over my shoulder, watching Nyx cuddle with Boomerang. “What do you think happened to him?”

A million unvoiced thoughts rage behind Ronan’s eyes, his silence heavy with the unspoken words. “Whatever it was, we have to accept the fact that we may never know. That look in his eyes? Defeated… hopeless in a way you and I can’t understand.” His gaze lands on the rearview mirror for a moment, then he sighs. “Whatever his story is, I’m positive it’s not worth repeating.”

Ronan’s hand finds mine, fingers weaving together as we drive in silence. When he offers Nyx the opportunity to stretch or take a bathroom break, he only shakes his head. Boomerang leaps from the van when we stop, nose to the ground as she zigzags, but Nyx stays put, curled into a ball. The image of him perfectly still in the cage, resisting the natural urges of his body, makes my stomach uneasy.

He accepts my offering of a protein bar and jerky, giving me a wobbly, nervous lift of his lips as he pinches the food, careful not to touch me. Relief brings tears to my eyes, and I have to stare at the ceiling of the van to contain them. Another smile graces his face when Boomerang returns, jumping right back into her spot by his side. Her loyalty is absolute—she knows he needs her, and to my surprise, I don’t mind sharing.

Ronan wasn’t kidding about the conditions being worse in this direction. Lack of traffic, foot or otherwise, has allowed weeds and rocks to accumulate unchecked. We trudge along, crawling over the ground littered with bumps and holes. Death traps, too, if the whiplash I’m developing is any indication .

The rock formation appears, looking just like a crow in flight as promised. Ronan nods to himself, more confident as he steers the van to follow the point of the beak.

We crawl.

And bump.

And lurch and thud and thunk until I’m worried the tires will give out before we make it. It feels like we barely put any distance between us and the crow when Ronan gives me a familiar sideways glance, telling me it’s time to find our resting spot for the night.

A half hour goes by before a dilapidated building appears on the horizon. It might’ve been a barn at one point, but its bones decided enough was enough, and now it’s just another ruin.

We approach at a snail’s pace, although there have been no signs of life for miles. The risk of others being inside is almost nonexistent, but even so, Ronan remains cautious. He leaves the van running as he gives me a pointed glance, waiting for me to climb into the driver’s seat before he readies his sword and creeps around the building. Unlike the times we’ve stopped in larger groves of trees, it only takes him a minute to clear the barn, and he’s pleased as he walks out.

“There’s room to pull the van inside,” he says as he nudges me over, climbing back in and putting it into drive.

“Uh…” I lean forward, eyeballing the building suspiciously. “Not that I’m questioning your judgement… although I totally am… are you positive it won’t collapse on us overnight? Because I’m telling you right now, if we’ve gone through all of this drama just to be crushed by some old, d ecaying piece of barnwood, I’m going to be fucking pissed. Like, I will haunt your ass.”

“The structure is fine.”

“Fine as a blood bag in a vampire den,” I mutter.

He glares at me as I flash him my most innocent smile. “The structure is fine ,” he repeats with extra emphasis, “although the roof is missing chunks and a few of the interior walls have fallen.”

“Sounds totally fine,” I agree with a somber nod, and he takes a deep breath before pushing it out of his nose, driving to a large opening on the side of the barn.

“The roof won’t matter because it’s a clear night, and even if it rains, we can climb in the van.” The sudden shift from bright sunlight to dim interior makes me blink, the shadows dense enough to force my eyes to adjust. Grudgingly, I concede that everything inside is sturdier than it looked from the exterior.

My arms stretch into the air as my spine snaps and pops, muscles thankful for the movement after sitting for so long. The side door slides open and Boomerang darts out, zooming back and forth inside the barn before jetting into the sunlight.

Nyx climbs from his spot on the floor at a pace that feels like slow motion, crossing his arms over his stomach and hunching forward as he stares at the ground.

I close my eyes and lean against the warm metal of the van, listening to the guttural, rolling sound of Ronan’s voice as he speaks his native language. Nyx never voices a response, but since the conversation continues, I can only assume he’s giving some sort of nonverbal cues. It’s soothing, and after the excitement of the past couple of days, I find myself half-asleep where I stand .

A dull thud makes me crack my eyes open again, finding Ronan stacking wood on a barren part of the dirt floor. “It’s early enough that we can burn a fire and get something hot to eat in our stomachs tonight.” His gaze shifts towards Nyx as he says it, who stands at a section of missing siding, staring off into the distance with a faraway look in his eyes. I wonder how long it’s been since he’s lived off anything other than whatever stale scraps were tossed into his cage.

Dinner is simple, rice and more jerky with the last of the bread—plenty of stuff to stick to our ribs. Nyx takes small, delicate bites, working on his food long after Ronan and I have stuffed our faces, and he lets out the tiniest tinkling laugh when Boomerang swipes a piece of jerky from his fingers. It’s barely more than a huff of air, but I have to close my eyes to fight the rush of emotion it carries.

It says, I’m not okay, but someday, I will be .

It’s quiet as night settles over us, all three of us lost in thought as we process everything that’s happened. Nyx curls up with Boomerang in a quiet corner, and she is thrilled with the extra attention. Ronan and I stretch out beside the van as night settles on top of us, and I can’t stop touching him as I consider how differently the past twenty-four hours could’ve gone.

Ronan’s hand finds mine in the darkness and our fingers weave together, but it isn’t enough. Soon my head is on his chest and his arm is thrown around my shoulders, and then I’m straddling his hips as I tuck my face into his neck. “I’ve got you,” he whispers as I fight the urge to cry, holding on to him for dear life as I nod. His hand smoothes my hair, and we stay like that under the star-dusted sky, wondering if tomorrow will finally lead us to what we’ve been searching for.

Restless sleep eventually takes me, but the sun’s appearance from beyond the horizon wakes me early. Living on the road like I have, I’m used to running on very little rest, so although I grumble, I’m awake. Ronan is already up, sitting on the hood of the van and chewing on a protein bar.

“You’ve been quiet.” I hop up beside him and snag a bite from his breakfast.

“Sorry,” he says, offering me a distracted smile, and I know he’s in his head because he doesn’t even comment on me stealing his food.

“You don’t have to apologize.” I seize the opportunity to take a bigger bite, and this one earns me a scowl. “It’s been nice not hearing you drone on and on and on…” A small smile plays on his lips as he bumps me with his shoulder. “… constantly nagging and complaining and thinking you’re right about everything…”

“Ah, your particular flavor of compliments is so comforting. It just makes me feel so good about myself, you know?”

I turn to hide my grin. “I am pretty sweet, aren’t I?”

Our fingers lace together, and he pulls my hand to his lips and presses a kiss on the back. “The sweetest.” He tugs me closer, cupping my head and tucking me into his neck. It’s silent as the sun rises, and I soak in the comfort of his presence—the warmth of his body against mine, the sweat-heightened smell of his skin, and as I press a kiss to his throat, the tang of salt that meets my lips.

We sit like this for a few minutes, until the crunch of gravel behind us leads to a tail whacking against the metal side of the van. Nyx stands in the doorway, awkwardly looking away. Ronan speaks to him in that same low, comforting tone, nodding as he jumps down and hands Nyx his breakfast. We wait for him to eat before we load into our seats, taking off on our bumpy trail.

Ronan is uncharacteristically quiet. We drive for hours at this snail’s pace, only making a quick pit stop when my bladder gets too full to continue, then pile back into the van like cattle. Determination etches deep lines into Ronan’s face, his eyes narrowing every time he recognizes a landmark. His lips move in mumbled, barely audible mutters as he talks to himself.

For once, I don’t interrupt him, understanding the importance of this path.

Early afternoon sun shines in the sky when we pass a cluster of three pine trees, lined up in almost a perfect row and each one taller than the last. Something knocks at the back of my mind, but the thought slips away before I can make anything else of it.

“We’re close—I know we are,” Ronan mumbles as a dark shadow forms on the horizon, a dense forest that stretches endlessly after an eternity of barren rocky soil. The green explodes across the ground so suddenly it looks fake, as if the gods themselves decided to put the earth out of its misery and tossed down a lush rug over the cracked earth .

My breath catches in my lungs as I stare at the expansive woodland. “Ronan,” I say, my voice barely a whisper over the rumble of the tires on rough terrain.

“Let me concentrate, Cam.” I swallow roughly and nod, staring out the window. We get closer, the whole of the forest breaking apart into the individual trees that create it. “There!” he mutters to himself, veering to the left towards a beaten dirt road that’s been nearly erased by time.

Mottled shadows cover us as we drive into the trees, but after a couple of miles on the main path, Ronan turns into a row of bushes. The opening isn’t visible, and it looks like he’s driving us into disaster, but the plants easily give as we push through. The scrape of branches is harsh, like screeching fingernails along the sides of the van.

My throat gets tight, watching him weave through the trees in a trail that’s barely wide enough for us to fit through. “Ronan,” I say again. He ignores me, likely doesn’t even hear me, leaning forward in his seat in concentration. The lump in my throat is a fist, squeezing my windpipe shut, and I fight for each breath until I finally manage to push past it.

“Stop,” I whisper, clawing at my chest as he pulls his eyes from the path long enough to look at me. “Stop,” I repeat, louder, seeing his frown from the corner of my eye.

“Cameron—”

“Stop!” I shout, and his foot hits the brake so abruptly we lurch forward. “Stop, stop, stop,” I chant, my trembling fingers fumbling with the door handle until I finally get purchase and fling it open. I launch myself from the van, hitting the ground at a sprint.

Thorny plants and vines whip at my shins as I charge ahead, Ronan yelling my name as his feet thud against the forest floor not far behind me. Dense woods surround me as I run faster, until the sky lightens from a slight break in the canopy. The side of the first building comes into sight and my heart constricts in my chest, something between panic and longing tearing through my veins.

The trees become thinner as Ronan’s yelling turns into a loud hiss. When the faded siding of a single-story house is visible, I skid to a stop, falling to my knees in the underbrush. Ronan’s breath comes in puffs as he catches up to me, approaching cautiously.

“Cameron?” I swallow again, my throat full of brambles as my eyes stay locked forward. “Cam,” he says, voice gentle as he sinks onto the ground beside me.

“This is the village you raided?” My voice is rough, as though sandpaper scratches it on the way out.

“Yes.” It’s not even a whisper.

“Which…” Emotion breaks my words before I force a swallow, trying again. “Which houses did you try to warn?”

Ronan stares at me for a long stretch, but I can’t tear my eyes away. Finally, he points at a small cottage in the distance. “My division came in from the other side. That house was the first I went into, and there was a middle-aged man inside.”

“What happened to him?”

“I don’t know,” he admits with a quiet sigh. “I yelled at him to go out the back door and run, and I left.” His finger moves to a second cottage next to the first. “Then Elas and I entered that one, but it was either empty or the humans had hidden well. It got harder after that, because the rest of the platoon was around, and it was quickly turning into chaos.”

“I tried to warn another,” he says, gesturing at the one my eyes have been locked on, “but when I was in the middle of speaking to the woman inside, Commander Bravis found us.”

“Did you kill her?” I ask, not sure I want to hear the answer.

“No, but I didn’t save her either.” The guilt in his voice is a palpable thing, and he swallows roughly. “The Commander came in and grabbed her, and it was too late. I was ready to jump in if he tried to drag it out—give her the dignity of a fast death if it came down to it, but he wasn’t in the mood to play with his toys that day.”

“How’d he do it?”

“Cam…” he whispers, sounding pained.

“ How ?!” I demand, fingernails digging into my thighs through my pants.

“Slit her throat. It was quick.”

Tears well in my eyes as I nod and take a shuttering breath. “Blonde hair? Most likely wearing a long dress with an apron tied around her waist?”

His head snaps towards me, a look of utter confusion on his face. “What—”

“She was probably humming before the attack started. If she was inside, she was cooking or canning, because otherwise she would’ve been in the garden.”

“Cameron, how do you…?” His voice cracks as he trails off, like he can’t bear to finish that question. A choked, wet laugh escapes me as a tear sneaks from my eye .

“This was my village, Ronan, and that house?” Our eyes land on it in sync. “That was my home. That woman was my mother.”