Chapter 7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
AUbrEY
It was like he could see right through me—usually when I taunted someone, I at least got a response.
A hit. An attempt to kill me. With his broad body pinning me down and proving that size did matter when one of the people was restrained, I realized I would rather taunt him and have the life choked from me than ever be put in a position where I was someone’s victim again.
I wasn’t doing it.
I couldn’t do it.
But apparently he wasn’t taking the bait. He leaned down, and the press of him against me was almost too much. Heavy and warm. He smelled like blood and sweat and smoke.
I blew out a slow breath and wondered if there was a way I could make this easier, if I could?—
“You need to figure out if you’re hungry or not, Killer. You saw what we’re having for dinner.”
There was a slow clinking sound of metal playing against metal, then he rolled off me.
“What?” My eyes drifted away from his figure long enough to see he’d used some kind of old cuff to chain me to the metal pole holding the edge of the tent up. It was smart—I could pull it out of the ground easy enough, but the whole thing would collapse and give away my escape attempt.
“Blythe cooked up someone for dinner, and I’m sure you worked up quite the appetite trying to raze the city to the ground. I just don’t know if you’re ready to admit you’re more like me than you are that bastard you shot earlier.”
That bastard I shot .
My stomach twisted; I hadn’t wanted to shoot Ben. Fuck, there’d been some part of me when I’d first started things with him that thought maybe…
Maybe I could actually let myself feel things again.
It had obviously been a mistake. The second he realized I wasn’t who I said I was, the moment he knew I wasn’t fit to be part of the Order, he looked at me like the soldiers had looked at me when I’d been taken by those fucking scientists.
Like something less than.
Like an animal.
Which made it even stranger that Phoenix straddling me with his fingers around my neck… that being called a dog felt better than actually being treated like one.
It didn’t mean I was going to accept his invite to… dinner. I gestured to my bag .
“Can I have that?” He gave me a look like I’d asked him a stupid question, and I rolled my eyes. “You can watch me. I’m just going to get food.” He arched one dark brow, and I sighed. “You can get it for me?”
He’d already taken my gun. And my knives. Yeah, I had some more things stashed in the bag, but I wasn’t ridiculous enough to kill him while I was staked to his bed. I might get away with it, but then I’d have to deal with the rest of the group when they found out what I’d done.
And…
There was something about the air of danger that hovered over him, the way he was cautious as he got up and started rifling through my bag that made me hesitate.
I could have killed him.
I could have done a lot of things.
My entire body tensed when he pulled out the bloodstained letter.
If he’d been watching me, he probably heard Ben mention it.
His eyes flicked over the yellowing paper, but he kept moving before I had a chance to tell him to put it down.
He was quick, taking inventory of everything I had—a change of clothes, a medical kit full of some of the experimental antibiotics the Order had, packets of dehydrated food and water purification tablets, and…
He started pulling out pistol ammo and didn’t stop until he’d built a little pyramid, then topped it with a knife and a gun. When his eyes shifted over to me, I gave the most innocent shrug I could manage.
“I like to be prepared.”
“Right.” He picked up one of the food packets and tossed it against my chest. It landed with a loud smack, and Phoenix smirked at the look I gave him when I jerked against my bindings in an attempt to catch it before I realized I was still cuffed to the post. “Eat up, then. Though you’re really missing out. ”
My stomach clenched—I wasn’t desperate enough to eat people, and he didn’t look like he was desperate enough to need to eat people.
He was all muscle and tattoos, tall enough that he had to stay bent over when he stood.
Yeah, he didn’t look like he was skipping out on meals, but maybe that was the point.
Phoenix looked me over as I sat up and tore the bag open with my teeth, pulling out the dried strips of meat with a grimace. It wasn’t my favorite thing, but it would fill up my stomach and give me energy. “That looks disgusting.”
“You eat people. You can’t talk.” I didn’t bother looking up when I said it, so I missed it again when something else hit my chest. This time it was heavier, metal that nearly knocked my food out of my lap. It was on the tip of my tongue to curse at him when I heard sloshing.
Water.
Fuck. This would have been easier if he was being a complete asshole instead of acting like he had intentions of keeping me functioning while he kept me captive.
“Now, be a good boy and stay .” He smirked at me before scooping up the contents of my bag and stuffing it all back inside, slinging it over his shoulder as he ducked out of the tent .
I was half tempted to throw the canteen at the back of his head, but he had my gun tucked in his belt, so that wouldn’t get me anywhere.
Instead, I dumped some of the water into my food packet after giving it a sniff to make sure it at least smelled okay.
While I waited for it to soak so it would be a little more chewable, I sat back and looked around.
The tent was crude, with a makeshift bed on the ground and blankets made of some kind of animal hide I didn’t recognize.
There were a few bags thrown in the corner, but he hadn’t made the mistake of leaving me in here with anything I could use as a weapon so I could take him out when he came back in from…
Fuck, he was really out there eating a person, wasn’t he? Had he just given me my food because he wanted to keep me fat enough to do the same to me later?
No. The way he’d looked at me when he was straddling me, the way he talked, told me he wanted something completely different. Something the Order probably would have slit my throat for even considering. I’d been working so fucking hard over the last few years to be good .
I’d been good when I joined, because some part of me thought if I could try to help while using Bishop’s name, I could honor who he’d been when he was alive.
And then I was good because when Ben looked at me with his warm smile and his bright eyes, it felt like there was someone worth being good for .
I’d been good because even when we’d been sent on missions to fuck up camps, I’d been able to help them more often than not under the guise of it being easier to form bonds so we could use them later .
I’d spent the last eight years being good .
Good . Fuck, what did that even mean? It felt like the syllable was trying to crawl up my throat to choke me.
I was so tired of the word. Tired of how meaningless it felt when I thought it—tired of the way that being good didn’t get me shit.
So what did that leave me with? My gaze lifted at the sound of laughter spilling in from the flap of the tent, raucous and warm, like the people out there actually cared about each other.
Like being around one another meant something.
Fuck.
I needed to get out of here before they changed their minds and dragged me out there after all.
My eyes dropped back to the metal cuffs Phoenix had slapped around my wrists, and a small smirk made the corner of my mouth twitch.
Maybe I’d spent the last eight years trying to be good, but before that, I’d just been Aubrey Malcolm—the only name I’d carried was my dad’s, and I didn’t give a shit if I sullied it by learning things like how to pick locks so I could get food on the days he refused to feed me.
And maybe Phoenix hadn’t left me a weapon, but there were little twists of metal holding the edges of the tent together. I didn’t need a weapon to get out of my restraints. I could go find a weapon for when I came back.
There was no way I was leaving my bag here, or the gun Phoenix still had tucked into his belt.
But for now …
For now I needed to leave before my captor decided he wanted to make me his lunch one way or another.
I tried to be silent as I twisted one of the metal ties off the side of the tent and carefully bent it into shape, and I had to close my eyes when I started. It was all muscle memory and concentration. The sound of my heartbeat slowing as I blew out a breath.
And the click of metal against metal when I found the locking device. I was slower than usual, but it had been years since I’d had to get myself out of a situation involving cuffs.
I dropped them casually on Phoenix’s bed and tucked the metal into my boot in case I needed it later, then I sat back on my heels.
Now what was I supposed to do?
I was pretty good at sneaking around when I had to, even better at getting out of trouble when it had me backed into a corner either by way of fighting or charm.
But this? There was an entire camp of raiders outside the tent.
I’d counted five of them, though there was every possibility there were more.
I moved slowly, peeking through the tent flap to see exactly where the group was. They were far enough off that I couldn’t completely make out what they were saying, though it was easy to spot Phoenix’s broad frame standing out above the rest of his crew.
Pack?
Had he called it a pack?
He seemed wolfish enough that it made sense.
The blaze of their fire and the questionable meal they had cooking over it was nearly blinding against the sky as it went dark. There was a part of me that knew running now was just as dangerous as staying.
I had no idea what was out and about, roaming among the buildings. We hadn’t had a storm in weeks, and there was some small part of me that could feel the tension of one brewing building up in the back of my mind. The things in the night would be extra feral.