Chapter 2 Cross #2
Henry runs a thick-fingered hand over his jaw before gesturing vaguely at the trees surrounding us. “I’m going to do a sweep and send anyone still out here back to the compound.” He beckons me forward. “Is he okay to walk back?”
“I can have a look.” I exhale heavily, stepping close. Finneas is a mess of mud, grime, and sweat. “May I, sir?”
Finneas grits his teeth. “Yes.” The hair on the left side of his head is matted with blood and dirt, and who knows what else. Concentrating, I peer closely at the rusty red of the gash on his skull, then lift a cautious hand. “Go on,” he growls.
Irritated at myself for my hesitation, I angle his head a bit, finding it difficult to see much in the dark.
When I probe the edges of the injury, he winces, sucking in a breath.
“Sorry.” I pause before continuing, “We’re going to need to clean it up.
You might need a few stitches.” I assume it’ll be my father taking care of them since it is Finneas.
Eyeing the horrific nature of the injury again …
I’d love to know how it happened. He said Twenty-Three tried to unman him, but that doesn’t explain this.
By my estimation, this wound is days old.
The blood had seeped down the side of his face from a deep, jagged tear in his skin, but it’s mostly dried smears that remain.
A dubious look is exchanged between Finneas and Henry before the latter clears his throat. “Whoever makes it back to the compound first should notify Nolan that he needs to be ready to provide some medical assistance. He’s with Twenty-Two.”
Hayze gestures toward Delilah. “Would you like me to take care of that?”
Through clenched teeth, Finneas snaps, “No. You’ll stay with me, Hayze, as will Rafe and Dragan. Cross will be the one to take that insolent thing back to the compound.” When I don’t immediately move, his gaze darts to mine, impatience marring his forehead with lines.
The dirty look Dragan gives me before heading over to join everyone else means that I should definitely watch my back, but I ignore him.
Hurrying over to collect my new charge, I wonder all the while if there’s something more Finneas hasn’t said about this encounter with Delilah.
She’s so still. My stomach flips upside down as I eye the wolf’s mask on the ground a few feet from Finneas.
Confusion jolts through me. When did he retrieve that?
He had to have been back to the compound at some point before the Hunting began. And what the fuck happened out here?
My throat goes dry as I stoop down, touching a few fingers to the delicate column of her throat.
A rush of relief hits me as blood pulses faintly under her warm flesh.
At my touch, she whimpers, lashes fluttering.
Then, her eyes spring open. Fuck. There’s terror in them as she takes in the mask covering half my features.
With my back to the group, I squat, gathering her in my arms while she stares at me like she’d like to do me some damage. She must recognize me. I meet her leery gaze, then shake my head. “Not a word,” I mutter, hoping she keeps the fuck quiet.
I even the distribution of her weight in my arms as I ease past everyone. “I’ll see you all back at the compound.”
Henry nods. “We’re going to be moving slowly. If we’re not back in thirty minutes, send whoever you can find.”
“I’ll be fine,” Finneas snaps, then glowers at me. “Just get moving. You know where to put that mongrel, Cross. Make it happen.”
“Yes sir.” I give him a tight smile. My fury must have given him a welcome home he won’t soon forget. I almost laugh when the next thing he does is growl as he eyes Twenty-Three one last time.
He shakes his head. “Do not let her get away from you. She’s dangerous.”
I nod, choosing not to say anything more, for fear I’ll provoke him into doing something rash. I don’t like the way he looks at her. I’ve seen her in action, but at the end of the day, she’s still a woman. How’d he let her best him tonight?
As I head out, it’s slow going, as I’m having to pick my way through the dense undergrowth.
Much of the conversation transpiring behind us is still audible.
“I’m looking forward to watching you bring her to heel, Father.
” Hayze’s statement causes the girl in my arms to flinch and exhale hard through her nose.
When I glance down, I catch the tremble of her lip.
His comment upset her. I tuck that bit of information away and keep moving.
There’s no time to think about it right now.
After we’ve gone a short distance, the question that’s been dancing precariously on the tip of my tongue falls from my lips.
“Are you okay?” I drop my gaze to hers, allowing myself to study her for a quick second as I make purposeful strides back toward the compound.
When she doesn’t answer but instead turns her face toward my chest, I give her a gentle shake. “Did they hurt you?”
“What do you care?” she mumbles, still refusing to look at me.
“I asked, didn’t I?” A smirk teases at my lips at the wrath emanating from her. So fucking feisty. Chuckling a bit, I whisper, “You’re mighty pissed off, huh?”
Finally, she glances up with a scowl. “I’m fine. It’s not the worst that’s happened. Not the first time some asshole shithead has put his hands on me without my consent, now is it?”
She’s got a point.
“It’s not even the first time I’ve been choked out.” My brows crash together at that statement.
Out of nowhere, she mounts an all-out effort to escape me. Her body wriggles and writhes. “Put me down,” she rages as her breath heaves from her chest. “Let me the fuck go.”
None of her pleas will work on me. There’s no way I don’t follow through on a direct command from Finneas. Not happening. I hold her in a tighter grip. “Stop squirming.” I clench my jaw as she continues her onslaught of mischief until I see no other way to deal with her.
I promptly release my hold, and she spills from my arms to the ground. She hits with a thud, letting out a grunted breath, her mouth open in a wide O of shock as she stares up at me. From the lack of words, I’d say the wind is knocked from her, but she’s unharmed. And I have her attention.
Folding my arms over my chest, I return her stare. “You said let you go. So I have. But what I want to know is this …” I pause for effect, eyeing the spitting-mad blonde at my feet. “Where exactly is it that you think you’re going?”
“Away from you, obviously.” She must not realize that’s not possible … though Finneas’s return does actually put that assumption into question.
“I hate to tell you this, but that’s not happening.”
“Why? Don’t tell me it’s because I’m one of your women now.” Her face pinches. “Because I’m not.”
“No?” But you could be mine … or maybe ours.
I raise a curious brow before planting my hands on my hips and jutting my chin toward her arm.
“If not, then what’s that?” My molars grind as I steadily take her in, my eyes traveling her body from head to toe—from scowling features to the dirty white shift that hardly conceals her nakedness, then farther down bare legs.
“You know very well I didn’t ask for your asshole friend to brand me. I’ve seen the other women. I understand that we’re marked as some sort of fucked-up claiming—but it means nothing.”
“Why do you think that?” Her mind fucking fascinates me, and her tenacious spirit draws me in.
While she’s simply attempting to survive us, she’s been weaving a web, trapping me in her snare.
Fucking bewitching is what she is. The idea that she has enough wits about her, even after everything she’s been through, to verbally spar with me?
It has my dick twitching hard in my pants.
Her breath comes unsteadily as her gaze flicks to the number branded on her arm.
Several beats pass before she shifts her attention to our surroundings.
It’s almost as if she’s looking for a way out.
Ignoring my question about what she makes of us stamping our claim on her body, she wets her lip.
“What did you mean when you said getting away from you all isn’t happening? ”
My brow arches. She wants to deflect my questions? I can do the same. It’s probably for the best if she’s clueless about the bridge—her only true means of escape—being destroyed. “I take it you didn’t enjoy the Hunting.”
“What gave you that idea?” She lets loose a certain sass that I wasn’t quite expecting, considering the circumstances.
Has she forgotten where she is? How our women are meant to behave?
It surprises the fuck out of me that she’d speak to any of us so freely.
Does she not have any sense of self-preservation?
It’s exasperating. But she’s oh so intriguing.
I pause, working mentally through our exchange …
am I the only one she speaks to like this?
No. I know that’s not true. But why does the idea of it make my chest puff out?
I steel myself against all those thoughts because if I don’t …
I’m terrified I’ll find myself getting in too deep.
This pretty thing could tempt me into doing things I shouldn’t.
Without even trying, this girl—Delilah—has begun to creep under my skin.
She’s insinuating herself into my thoughts in a way I wish she wouldn’t but also crave.
Finneas was right about one thing. Delilah is dangerous to us. She’s a fucking one-woman demolition crew. If we’re not careful, she’ll take out the entire compound.