Chapter 5 Arrow
FIVE
ARROW
It’s late. There’s no way I’m sleeping, but it’s not like that’s anything new.
Unfortunately, I do seem to be picking up more things that plague my mind as time trudges forward.
I lift the cider pilfered from my father’s stock to my lips and swallow deeply, already regretting my decision to run in the Hunting.
The way my healing skin pulls with every movement isn’t the only reason I’m drinking. Dulling my thoughts as well seems wise.
What horrific events and memories will my nightmares feature tonight if I do manage to fall asleep?
Finneas’s return, perhaps, or what might transpire when he learns of the exact reason for my correction?
Maybe I’ll get twisted up in the warped thoughts that’d sent me into a spiral when I found Malakai all but dead.
I grimace as a sick feeling knots in my gut.
There’s no doubt I’ll spend the entire night worrying over my siren after the way her tears and frustration had taken a dull axe to my heart.
She’s never far from my thoughts as it is.
She has a name. Delilah. I whisper it to myself, liking the way it sounds, and that distracts me, but only for a moment before I get caught up in my head again.
As I swallow more of the potent brew, my already burdened mind twists, replaying snippets from earlier—things I saw, things I heard.
Things I was told. Finneas. According to Cross, he found my siren out there in the woods.
My brow furrows, trying to imagine how that went down.
And it wasn’t even just our missing leader that’d come upon Delilah.
I can’t blink without seeing an image of Dragan with his hands around her neck.
No, I didn’t actually witness the assault.
Maybe I wouldn’t have put two and two together if Cross hadn’t mentioned how Dragan had been standing over her when he and Hayze came upon them.
I believe those bruises I saw on her delicate skin were at least partially inflicted by that asshole’s hands.
He’ll pay for touching her. And so will anyone else who seeks to harm her.
Drawing in one breath after another does nothing to calm me, because in my head, all I can see is Dragan with a devious grin tipping the corners of his mouth, no care for the damage he’s done.
He’s just like the rest of them—Finneas, Kiefer, Nolan, and even my own father.
They don’t consider anything other than their own greedy desires.
Nothing will change while the Collective is in control of the way we’re required to act, think, and even feel.
This way of life has been so deeply ingrained in me that every time a shred of contrary thought enters my mind, it rubs from the inside out until I can’t help but pay attention.
All the things I’ve been taught since the day I was born lie in direct opposition to the way I wish this life was.
I don’t have a clue how to stop the war that rages inside my own skull.
Every day, I hide the intrusive thoughts.
Soon, they’re gonna eventually bubble free and land me in the thick of something I can’t handle on my own.
Pushing the door to the cellar pantry open a crack, it hovers at the edge of my mind that I should cross the main room and creep down the hallway to where my siren lies on the stone floor in the cell we were told to put her.
Do I dare? I blink into the dark. There are probably still several hours until dawn when the compound awakens.
I shouldn’t be down here at all. But where else would I be when she’s here?
Earlier, I told her I’d come back. And everything in me screams that I need her, that I should say fuck the consequences.
I don’t care what happens to me. But her?
I’d rather cut off my own arm than hurt her again.
That’s the only reason I’m hesitating. Rolling my shoulders, I grit my teeth against the pain that serves as a reminder of what I cost us that night.
Me. Her. Hayze and Malakai. Even Cross. My indiscretions will forever be emblazoned on my skin.
And what it did to her … it makes me sick thinking about it.
I don’t dare use Finneas’s key to the cells now that he’s back.
My lips purse, and I dip my hand into my pocket, fingering the one that I’d pilfered from my father’s room.
I refuse to abandon her. Because now, even more than before, coming off of the Hunting, I’m worried for her. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.
The sound of the door on the main floor opening, followed by feet clomping down the stairwell, has me sucking in a breath and shifting backward until I’m tucked away in the pitch-black corner near the door’s hinge.
Should whoever that is come this way, I might be fucked.
Cocking my head, I strain to hear the direction the footsteps are taking, and at first, I let out a stuttered, relieved exhale when they lead away from me.
But then, I shift to peer through the razor-thin gap between the door and frame … only to spot Kiefer’s broad back heading toward the cells. Fuck. My fists curl into tight balls of restraint, shaking with the effort it takes to maintain my position. To wait.
Several seconds pass as my heart rate climbs. Finally, I can no longer stand the unknown. Pushing out of the pantry, I curse the creak of the hinges, then on quiet feet, I cross the room, stopping at the door. It’s open a fraction.
What I hear on the other side doesn’t do anything to calm my nerves.
My jaw clamps down so hard my teeth ache.
The low rumble of Kiefer’s voice is biting and cruel.
“Got yourself in deep water tonight, huh?” A few seconds go by, and he lets loose a soft, darkly amused chuckle. “But you won’t do that again.”
There’s a rustling, followed by a feminine gasp. “No. Don’t.”
“Sure you want to risk opening that bitch mouth of yours when I didn’t invite you to speak?
” He pauses, almost as if waiting for her to answer.
She doesn’t. His taunt is met with silence.
I close my eyes, listening to the whisper of fabric and the quietly gasped exhales and something that sounds like a choked sob.
It’s tearing me apart to have to stand here and listen.
But I won’t leave her. Not now. Kiefer snickers softly.
“Oh that’s unfortunate. From the feel of it, I don’t think anyone got the job done tonight, did they?
” He pauses a beat before adding, “No one put their seed inside this tight little cunt. Definitely not. I can tell.”
A barely-there whimper drifts to me, and my heart clenches. Visions of him with his hand under her dress, fingers inside her accost me, nearly sending me busting in to interrupt. Fuck. Shit. My entire body shakes, and I lift my fist to my mouth, biting down.
In my mind’s eye, I can see the prick’s smirk. Know what he’s about to do. I’m positively vibrating with rage when the sound of his zipper lowering reaches my ears, and he continues, “I’ll have to take care of that. We don’t waste opportunities around here.”
My hands dive into my hair, tugging hard as I listen to the sounds of the struggle between them. A growled grunt. A whimper. No. This. Is. Agony.
The soft scuffling of bare feet coming down the hallway from one of the bedrooms sends thunder through my veins.
I don’t want to leave Delilah, but the idea that I’m about to be discovered lurking where I shouldn’t be spurs me into action.
I dart back to my earlier hiding place, thankful the women keep the cellar tidy, and I have a clear path in the dark.
I’ve only just ducked into the pantry and haven’t even gotten a chance to fully close the door when I catch sight of Twenty-One tiptoeing toward the cell hallway.
My brows knit together as I watch her hover, listening.
What in the fuck? There’s something about her furtive movements that sets me on edge. There’s no reason for her to be anywhere near the cells. Except … she’s very much interested in Kiefer. I don’t think she’s aware anyone notices, but I have. She watches him every day with lustful eyes.
“Father?” At that one hissed word, my gaze darts from Twenty-One, frozen in place, to the source of the voice. It comes again. “Are you down there? Henry is back. He’s looking for you.” It’s Gannon. Considering the hour, he’s being obnoxiously loud.
Twenty-One scrambles, skidding to her knees behind the table, her back to me. The reason for her hurry becomes apparent only a few seconds later when Kiefer appears, smugness oozing from him. It turns my stomach. In a few strides, he crosses to the stairs and disappears.
A breath of relief shudders through me. After the door at the top of the stairwell clicks shut, Twenty-One rises from her crouched position. It would seem that whatever she’d intended to do, she’s changed her mind, and pads back the way she came.
I don’t waste any more time questioning her behavior and instead quietly return to my previous post outside the cell hallway, only this time, I step through the doorway and blink into the ominous void.
Sounds of distress echo from the stone prison as I edge closer. Every step brings an additional risk, but my heart thrums with the need to be near my siren. This is agony. I’m torn. Do I dare go to her? Is it worse to stay away?
The smallest of whimpers seals my fate. It reaches inside my soul and threatens to yank it free.
I no longer have a choice. “Twenty—” My mouth snaps shut, cutting off the remainder of the number we assigned to her—one I refuse to use any longer.
“It’s me, siren.” I stop outside her cell and peer inside.
She’s no longer on the blanket where we left her.
My eyes strain, searching the pitch-black corner.
Sure enough, she’s there, huddled in a ball, rocking back and forth with her arms wrapped around her legs and head bowed.