Chapter 12 Arrow
TWELVE
ARROW
Reining in my thoughts is nearly impossible, but I can’t keep going over all the ways I should have done things differently.
It’s only making me feel sick. My mind has been curling and caving in on itself since last night.
I stare off in the direction of where I know Delilah is, handsaw dangling at my side.
It’s almost as if my body senses hers. Like I’m that attuned to her.
Realistically, I know that’s horseshit. My siren is right where the Collective has demanded she be—tied to a motherfucking tree.
And she’ll be there for however long it’s deemed necessary.
The unforgiving bark will scrape against her soft skin.
Her body will ache. She’ll be on display for the entire compound, what we did to her drying on her skin even as the remainder of our seed runs down the inside of her thighs.
Kiefer and Finneas. They both had her outside of the Hunting.
They did it to punish her. To assert their dominance.
All of it has me wanting to rage. I haven’t even had a chance to tell anyone else about what I saw last night.
As much as I’d like to, there’s simply no abandoning my work to go to her. It’s unlikely she has any desire to see me after what I allowed to happen to her, anyway. Every hand that disappeared between her thighs, was a misery the likes of which I’ve never known.
Can’t think about it right now.
My jaw tightens as I continue sawing through a length of wood.
It’s one of many halved logs that need to be cut before we can even begin to rebuild this fucking bridge.
I drag in a breath, glancing toward Rafe and Dragan who have begun toting each piece over to where everything is being laid out.
I groan internally. We need a ridiculous amount of wood cut to complete the project.
At least the monotonous work gives me something to do. I simply wish it were complicated enough to distract me from withdrawing into my head. Every time I do, I begin to spiral.
The sound of someone at least a hundred feet into the woods drifts to my ears. Branches snap, leaves rustle. I even catch some low laughter. Sounds like Gannon. I don’t want to know what that asshole is up to, so I ignore it.
The physical exertion required of this job and the fact that I have no wish to take off my shirt is making me miserable.
Every movement stretches the skin that has only just begun to knit together.
Using my forearm, I mop my brow. All across my back, the healing skin prickles as sweat beads over it and travels in rivulets toward the waistband of my pants.
I sigh. Most everyone else has discarded their shirts in favor of working bare chested.
I grimace, grinding my teeth with impatience for a job that is going to last the entire fucking day.
But I don’t care to give anyone—especially not Finneas—another reminder of my insolence or the punishment that’d followed.
“Arrow, do you know where Gannon is?” Kiefer stops beside me, surveying what we’ve gotten done so far.
I set the handsaw I’d been using on the ground before scanning the area.
My fists clench, vivid echoes of the way this man made Delilah cry still fresh in my head.
I’d almost lost it when he had another opportunity to touch her today.
“I thought I heard him a minute ago.” Shrugging, I gesture toward the trees. “Over there, somewhere.”
Kiefer frowns. “Find him and tell him to report to me.” He doesn’t wait for me to agree, instead walks off.
I don’t know why I would ever expect anything different from one of the Collective.
Commands are to be honored. Executed without question.
Exhaling, I reach up and grip the back of my sweat-coated neck.
“Yeah. Okay,” I mumble under my breath. At a shout of glee, I head toward where I think Gannon must be off fucking around.
A deep furrow etches itself between my brows.
It takes me a minute, but I finally spot him and shout, “Gannon! Kiefer needs you,” hoping that’s the end of it so I can turn around and go back to work. The faster we finish, the better.
Gannon’s head whips around and there’s a peculiar, delighted look on his face that sends confusion sliding down my spine. He laughs again. “Over here, freak.” He’s holding something behind his back.
Fucking asshole. I couldn’t care less what he’s doing, but I won’t let him ignore that his father sent me to find him and have it blow back on me. Forcing myself to move, I plod through the twigs, brush, and assorted debris that has its home on the forest floor. “Be right there.”
When I reach him, he stares at me with an odd twinkle in his eye, working his jaw to the side.
His attention darts toward the sound of axes and saws on wood, before settling on me again.
Frowning, I scan the area, mind scrambling as I spot dark red splotches in the dirt.
Blood. I track the path until I finally spot gray fur huddling beside a fallen log.
What in the—? An animal is trying to hide, huddled in on itself and shaking.
I think it’s a squirrel, though its tail is gone.
I turn to find Gannon dangling the missing bit of fluff from his fingertips and shake my head bewildered. “Why’d you do that?”
He smirks, then shrugs. “Because I can.”
I rub a hand over my face, then pivot, striding rapidly toward the river.
“Arrow.”
Unable to hide how what he’s done has made me want to throw up, I spit, “What?” agitated. “Your father wants you. Go find him.”
He levels me with an ugly sneer. “Say anything, and I’ll tell your dad where all his cider is disappearing to.”
Oh, fuck.
I’m still shaking with rage when Hayze makes his way to the river a while later. I glance up at his approach. For some reason, his expression is no less stormy than mine. He roughly rubs a hand over his face, exhaustion apparent from the puffiness under his eyes and the tight set of his jaw.
But whether it’s more of a physical tiredness from last night’s ritual and the subsequent lack of sleep or the mental toll that this morning’s debacle with the Collective has taken, I couldn’t say. For me, it’s all of the above.
Pausing his march as he reaches my side, he growls, “I need to have a word with Dragan about last night.”
Now? Shit. Just what we need is a fight to erupt.
I grit my teeth because I’m still considering knocking some sense into Gannon for the squirrel incident.
“Yeah.” I point a distracted finger toward the group a ways down the river.
While I’ve been busy cutting wood the width we need for the planks of the bridge, they’ve been ineffectively attempting to determine the distance from one side of the river to the other.
My lips quirk. “I’m sure Kiefer will eventually clue them in that there’s a trigonometric equation that is fairly easy to use to solve for the distance.
They just need a protractor and to use their brains for once.
” On second thought, it might not be so easy for that bunch. Even my father seems perplexed.
Hayze raises a brow, then shakes his head. “I’m no good at math, you know that.”
I shrug, wincing internally. Hayze is fucking smart, he simply has never seen himself that way.
It’s been his greatest challenge his entire life—seeing himself as good enough to be in charge of everything our fathers have created here.
“We both know that’s not your issue.” He doesn’t see things like the rest of us do. I figured that out a long time ago.
A second later, he sighs, looking back in the direction he came from. “Where’s Cross?”
“Still with … her, I would think.”
My brow raises, and because Evren is still sawing like a man possessed not too far away, I mutter under my breath, “How is she?”
Hayze’s lips press together. “Other than the fact that the Collective is making yet another statement by extending her correction, you mean?”
I suck in a breath. “Fuck. I meant emotionally. Is she … very upset?”
He huffs, rubbing a hand over his lightly bearded jaw.
“Yeah, just like you’re probably assuming.
” He lowers his voice, quickly whispering, “They want her on display for any woman who has ever considered bucking against their control. They’ll be reminded of what will happen should they not adhere to the ways of our commune.
She’ll be there when they look out the kitchen window.
She’ll be there when the women hang the wash on the line.
And she’ll be there when they fetch eggs from the chicken coop. ”
I nod, quietly agreeing. “Delilah will be the ultimate warning, yet another harsh reminder to not only the women, but everyone in the compound of what happens when the Collective is displeased.”
Exhaling hard, Hayze’s lip curls. “Anyway, upset really isn’t the right word. She’s mad. Really mad.” He swallows. “Especially at me.”
“Why?” Almost before the word is out of my mouth, I realize how stupid it is. “Because she thought you were going to help her?” I lower my voice even further. “And then …”
His gaze flicks to his father, and he gives a short nod. “Yeah. I couldn’t. Not how I wanted to. She doesn’t—”
“Understand. I know,” I say, finishing his thought.
He peers at me, concern shining in his eyes. “Arrow, what are you doing? You’ve been visiting her again.”