Chapter 3 #2
Marcelle. She looks feral, her eyes wild with fury and her face sunken and angular.
The supplies that are still delivered to our camp by boat were intended for the scientists working there and for the prisoners they were experimenting on, but Marcus is hoarding everything.
It’s the only leverage we have, but Virginia would never bargain; Marcus only wanted one thing from her—to turn off the Tiders’ aromium and stop them from breeding children whose aromium is part of them.
It can never be turned off, and that won’t lead anywhere good. It’s one thing to know we’re starving the Tiders out, but it’s another to see the evidence of it.
Marcelle’s belly is protruding from her small frame as she advances my way, fueling my rage. She’s mean as hell, but she’s just an unwitting pawn.
“No.” I practically yell the word at her, putting a palm out in front of myself. “I don’t want to fight a pregnant woman, Marcelle. Back off.”
“We’re not going to kill you.” Her lips turn up in a maniacal smile. “We’re going to keep you alive for as long as we can, while we take you apart one piece at a time.”
She’s losing hair. There’s a bald spot on one side of her head. And the hair she does have is dirty and limp. I feel physically sick over the poor, starved child growing inside her.
I’m backing away from her, only thinking of escaping, when strong arms encircle me from behind. Marcelle’s grin grows wider, her eyes lighting up.
“Let’s tie her up,” she says gleefully.
My heart thrashes in my chest. I can’t let that happen, even if it means fighting her. I tilt my chin down and throw my head back, knocking my skull into the nose of the man holding me.
He grunts and loosens his grip on me, my head throbbing from the impact. Turning my body, I dig an elbow into his stomach and point the electrified end of the stun stick at Marcelle.
“I’ll do it,” I threaten, stepping away from the man so I can reach either of them with the stick. “Be smart and go back to your camp, Marcelle.”
A deep bellow sounds from the other end of the beach at the same moment an arrow embeds in Marcelle’s calf. She snarls and bends to remove it.
It’s buried deep. I know that was a save from Amira, who can split a hair with an arrow if she wants to. The man is moving for me again, so I drive a kick into his knee and dart back toward Marcus’s back.
Not a minute too soon. A thick, impossibly long anaconda is vibrating from the stun stick Marcus is jamming into its open mouth. Pax is bonded to anacondas, and he must have called one to attack Marcus.
It’s all Marcus can do to hold on to the stick while Pax punches him in the face and then the stomach. Marcus’s strangled groan of struggle as he battles the snake while taking the blows ignites something inside me.
I run, my boots throwing up sand. They’re only about forty feet away, but every step feels like a mile as I see sweat rolling down Marcus’s pained face.
I’m going to electrocute Pax. I’ll put my stun stick over his chest above his heart, and it’ll kill him. That’s the price for what he’s doing to Marcus.
Pax takes a dagger from his waist, an evil gleam in his eyes. He’s not the man I knew before. That Pax was selfish, but also carefree and easygoing. Virginia was the cutthroat, and he was a counterbalance.
“No!” The word tears from my throat as Pax moves the dagger.
I’m furious with Marcus, but he can’t die. He means too much to the Dust Walkers. There are no good choices here, only bad ones and worse ones, and he’s best suited to make them.
Black fur flashes through my field of vision, a massive wolf lunging at Pax and clamping its jaws around his forearm. He yelps in pain, and the dagger falls to the ground.
Marcus pulls the stun stick from the enormous snake’s mouth, its limp body dropping. He’s breathing hard. Flavius, the leader of the pack of wolves on the island Marcus is bonded to, growls and drops his head, his gold eyes trained on the prisoner coming for Marcus.
The guy is a soaking wet mountain, murderous intent flashing in his pale-blue eyes.
Marcus is six feet four and the prisoner hulks over him.
He’s built like a battering ram, his tree-trunk arms and legs bulging with muscle.
With his blond hair tied back at his neck and his thick, bushy beard, he looks like a Viking warrior.
Flavius growls louder, the fur on his back standing on end. He’s the size of a small horse, aromium making him stronger and meaner than a regular wolf. The Viking glances from Pax to Flavius, considering.
More wolves approach, making a half circle around us. Their heat and menacing growls wrap around us like a protective shield. Several thick green vines join the wolves, gliding over the ground near my feet.
They look innocent, but they can do some serious damage. Pax spits on the ground, his glare murderous.
“Give me the entire boatload and I’ll deliver food within an hour,” Marcus says. “Medicine, too.”
“Fuck you,” Pax spits out. “I’m coming for you, too. I’m gonna cut your throat and you can bleed out right on this beach.”
“Why wait? I’m right here,” Marcus says, his voice lethally calm. “Let’s go.”
Flavius inches closer to Pax, his pack advancing with him. Pax and the Viking back away.
“Not today,” Pax says, looking disgusted. “You won’t even see it coming.”
Marcus huffs a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, backstabbing’s your game, isn’t it?”
Pax grips the dagger, which he must have picked up. He’s considering. It’s stupid, but he’s a man whose pride has been insulted, so of course he’s thinking about attacking when the odds are against him.
Flavius’s warning snap jolts Pax back into sanity. The Viking tilts his head at Pax, indicating they should retreat in the other direction.
I don’t like the way he seems to know Pax even though he just got here.
“Guess snake’s on the menu tonight,” Marcus calls after them.
“Will you stop?” I say softly.
He scoffs. “Fuck no. With him? Never.”
“Whipping your dick out takes one hand out of commission. You need both hands for a fight.”
“Takes both hands to whip mine out,” he quips.
“Oh, you’ve got jokes? After three fucking weeks, you’ve got jokes?”
His amusement drops away, replaced by a dark glower. “What do you want me to say, Briar? We were doomed from the start. It was only a matter of time before you found out what I’ve done and hated me.”
“Maybe if you’d had the balls to tell me yourself, I wouldn’t hate you.”
The commotion on the beach is subsiding. Nova’s helping a limping Dust Walker back to our side. The wolves are still here, keeping watch, and they will be until Marcus calls them off. But for now, he and I are in our own world, neither of us willing to give in and look away.
Only two feet of space separate us. I haven’t been this close to him since before. Close enough to see that he hasn’t shaved today, a shadow of stubble showing. Sweat drips from his chin.
“You would,” he says. “And I don’t blame you. I hate myself more than you ever will.”
The self-loathing in his tone takes me aback. Marcus is steady and certain. He operates on logic, not emotion. I’ve never seen anyone struggle less with tough decisions. He makes them quickly and never second-guesses himself.
“Marcus!” Nova yells.
We look away at the same time, realizing there’s no one left on the beach but us and the bodies of the people who died. And the snake.
It looks like we only lost one person. I think his name is Max. The Tiders lost two. The casualty list could grow because injuries here can be fatal, especially in their camp, where there’s no medicine.
“I’ve got him,” Marcus says, referring to Max.
The Tiders leave their dead to be scavenged by the island’s animals. We bury our people’s bodies. It’s important to hold on to the civilization we still have.