Chapter 2 Cross
TWO
CROSS
Hayze and I pause our fast-paced trek through the deepest dark of the mountainous terrain within the bounds of the compound, breathing hard.
Each rasped breath drags thick, almost stagnant air over something that feels like rocks lodged in my lungs.
I stare into his intense blue eyes. Shake my head to clear it of the webs clinging to my every thought.
Where the fuck are they? Where is she? It’d taken mere seconds after the Hunting began for madness to ensue.
We’ve been living in that state of insanity for way too long now.
Arrow and Malakai had disappeared amid the mayhem.
I should have known how frenzied and chaotic it would be, especially after my father’s warning that the Collective would be participating.
I point off to my left, gaze shifting to Hayze to make sure he’s with me.
His jaw twitches madly beneath the half mask of the wolf that he wears.
“I think I heard voices coming from over that way a minute or two ago.” Possibly a feminine one, which definitely strikes me as odd.
We stand absolutely still, listening. My friend has been slowly losing it since the horn sounded to begin the Hunting.
In the last few hours, one thing has become crystal clear.
There’s something going on with him—more than I had previously realized.
I can be pretty intuitive, but Hayze? He’s easy for me to read.
It’s Twenty-Three. Between the charade he put on during the feast so that he could say something to her without drawing attention and his current urgency to find our little Disturbance, it’s obvious.
This is more than a simple dislike of how the Collective is handling her.
I get the feeling I’ve missed something important—or rather, he’s kept something from me.
Before our ritual had gotten underway, he’d been near frantic.
All he’d said, though, was that he needed to speak to her, that it was important, and to watch the door and make sure he didn’t get caught.
Why he’d included Malakai in the watch-out crew when we aren’t at all certain of him, I have no clue, but the guy has been less problematic toward us of late.
Setting my own thoughts about him aside, I scrape my teeth over my lip, pondering the way Mal had quickly agreed with Hayze that the Collective has been using him.
Maybe that was enough to inspire Hayze’s trust …
but he should probably be wary of Malakai.
He’s a wild card. Always has been. How could he not be?
It’s partly what I like about him, though I’d never tell him that.
And I’m definitely watching every single thing he does.
All that aside, whatever the real story is, I need Hayze to explain himself. Because the path I think he’s on, it’s one I’ll gladly travel with him if he asks it of me—but it’s one that puts us at odds with everything we’ve ever known.
He shakes his head. “I don’t hear anything.”
No sooner does he say that than a faint scuffling and some whispered shouts can be heard. “It’s coming from over that way,” I whisper, wishing that I could yank this fucking ram mask from my face so I can see better.
His eyes widen as the sounds of a commotion pick up and are followed by a muffled shout. “Ah, fuck,” he bites out. “Let’s go.” With that, we take off, moving stealthily through the trees toward whatever chaos is unfolding in the distance.
“Be honest,” I murmur quietly, “what are we doing?”
“I don’t know.” He shoots me a look over his shoulder, an aggrieved exhale blasting from between his lips. “I don’t want the Collective’s hands on Delilah. I told her I would come for her.” He shakes his head, his jaw clenched tightly shut at his admission.
I blink once. Twice, then breathe out the real name of the peculiar girl I’ve come to think of as my fury.
“Delilah.” Pressing my lips together, I absorb the way the feminine name feels on my tongue.
It’s intriguing. Beguiling. Different. Just like the girl herself.
Cocking an eyebrow at him, I can’t help but point out the obvious flaw in all this.
“I know you haven’t forgotten the most sacred of our vows we make to each other.
What’s mine is yours. And what’s yours is mine. You’re asking for trouble.”
“No. I’m asking for help. Your help.” He frowns, pausing to listen again before quickly whispering, “The way she’s been handled, some of the things that’ve happened …” His eyes search mine. “We need to talk, but we don’t have time to get into it now.”
He’s right. It’s complicated. Dangerous, even. “Fine.”
“For now, can you go along with whatever I do?”
I exhale hard, sarcasm spilling from my lips. “Yeah, but only because you asked so nicely.”
As we continue on, we come to an opening in the trees and stop short. I frown, a sick sense of dread washing over me. My breath catches as my gaze is drawn to where Rafe and Henry are crouched over someone. They’re easily recognizable by the masks they wear. “Finn?” Henry grits out.
Surprise and confusion roll through me in tandem.
Oh, shit. Is that Finneas? Where the hell did he come from?
Beside me, Hayze’s intake of breath is audible.
And before I even have a chance to say a word, the ramifications of Finneas’s return begin to worm around in my head. I didn’t see this coming.
“The fuck happened here?” Henry barks out. At first, all he gets in response from the man in question is a groan. A twig snaps under my foot, alerting everyone to our presence, and shifting, Henry searches us out in the dark.
Forcing myself to pay attention, I follow Hayze as he rushes forward. “Father.” He hesitates. “You’re back. I—” His jaw snaps shut, and he shakes his head as he takes in the surprise arrival of his old man. In a grit-filled voice, he murmurs, “Are you okay? How did you get here?”
I cock my head to the side, eyeing the remnants of caked blood smeared from Finneas’s hair down the side of his face and neck. Wherever he’s been, it looks like he encountered a whole lot of trouble on his way back.
“I’m fuckin’ fine. That bitch tried to unman me just now,” he growls as his gaze shifts. Mine follows, and it’s only then that I spot two more people I hadn’t realized were nearby. Dragan stands over Delilah’s body. She’s on the ground, unmoving.
Oh, fuck. I glance quickly at Hayze. If I don’t do something now, this could all go bad in the blink of an eye.
Dragan’s expression is one of malicious intent.
Almost as if he senses us watching, his hand slides to the front of his pants and works to unfasten them.
The sick fuck cocks a brow at us as if to say You want her? Come and get her.
Rage unlike I’ve ever known simmers as it shoots through my veins, but under my breath, I murmur loudly enough for Hayze to hear, “Don’t.” We can’t afford to let this situation get out of control.
In this moment, from the ready-to-detonate stance of Hayze’s body, I can tell just how badly he wants to go to the fascinating troublemaker in our midst. And I’d be a lying fool if I denied my own wish to lay my claim.
We’re trapped in circumstances that were never ours to choose, restricted by every expectation that’s ever been placed on us.
We share our women … but there’s only one time we’re ever permitted to take possession of one of them for our own.
The need to do something—anything—rises swiftly within me.
But at what cost? One toe out of line and privileges given could be stripped away in a single heartbeat.
Our status within the commune, in question.
Losing it would be tantamount to societal suicide, and I have no idea what consequences that might bring.
We’re bound by loyalty to the Collective. Hayze, more specifically, is beholden to his father and what’s expected of him as the firstborn son of the entire compound. Lucky him.
I’ve just barely gotten a hold of myself when Henry’s deep voice rumbles like thunder through the dark. “Cross, I need you to have a look at this wound before we try to head back to the compound.”
“Yes sir.” I give a curt nod, but before I can join them, Finneas surges to his feet, jaw clenched. The blotchy red of his face betrays just how pissed off he is. I’m not stupid. The fact that his injury makes it look like he’s returned to us in a weakened state is making him ridiculously angry.
His cold glare swings from Hayze to each person present before finally landing on his firstborn again. The silence while we wait is deafening. “Follow,” he rasps. “Honor. Nourish.” Then through clenched teeth, he pointedly spits, “Kneel.”
I never had a doubt this was coming. Finneas wouldn’t want to waste time reaffirming his position as our leader.
As a unit, Hayze, Rafe, and I drop to our knees before him, bowing our heads.
From the corner of my eye, it’s plain that Dragan has done the same.
Finneas grunts out his approval of our obedience with a nod.
Getting to his feet, Hayze calmly murmurs, “I’m glad you’ve returned to us and hope you’ll be proud of what I’ve done in your stead.” My friend is handling himself well right now. But then that’s what Hayze does. He was born for this.
Finneas’s jaw works to the side, and I’m uncertain what his response is going to be.
The leader of our commune is a difficult man to understand—a difficult man, period—and my opinion on that doesn’t often deviate.
His brow arches and lips twist as he studies his son.
“I’m certain you’ll have done me proud, because to disappoint me and the Collective wouldn’t be wise. ”
“Understood, Father.”
If I were to search way down deep inside, I don’t know if I’d handle being Dark Falls Hollow’s firstborn son as well as Hayze does. But at the very least, I know it’s smart for both of us to keep our fucking mouths shut right now.