Chapter 9
“I’m attaching a map I drew of the prison.
There are three underground levels, and the lowest one is where they keep the most valuable prisoners.
Impenetrable, the propaganda calls it? All it took for a guard to let me in was a low-cut top and a hand job.
” -- Decoded message from ILF undercover operative Nightingale to ILF handler Hiro Tanaka
Briar
“Thready.”
Ellison mutters the word from Nova’s arms as we run back toward our camp as a group. Theron is right behind us, and my skin won’t stop prickling with worry about what he might do.
Stella and the rest of Command Team Two are watching us, hidden in the jungle. Marcus wanted us to have backup if things went bad. I have to trust my back to people I can’t even see, but I know they’re capable.
“She’s lost a lot of blood,” Marcus says from nearby. “She’s type O negative. I’m not a match.”
“I’ll give her my blood,” Nova says.
“Are you O neg?” Marcus asks.
“I don’t know. Does it matter?”
“Yeah.”
I speak up. “I’m O negative. I’ll do it.”
The dirt path through the jungle narrows, forcing us into a single-file line. Nova takes the front, her pace close to an all-out sprint. The jungle’s song of caws and calls plays on, oblivious to our frantic rush to help Ellison.
“If she loses consciousness, do you know how to transfuse?” Marcus asks from right behind me.
“No.”
There’s a momentary pause before he says, “Wyatt, you and Chance and Stella stay with the Tider until I can get there.”
“We will,” Wyatt calls. “We’ll be all over him, don’t worry.”
A droplet of rain lands on my cheek. A thin line of Ellison’s blood marks the dirt beneath our feet, fear for her knotting in my stomach. If his cut was meant as a warning, Theron went too deep.
“Amira and Olin!” Marcus calls, the raindrops intensifying. “Work with Command Team Two to give the garden and the farm advance notice of what’s happening. Make sure you secure the Sub.”
“She’s barely conscious!” Nova cries from the front of the line.
“What about aromium?” I ask, because it speeds healing.
“Not an option,” Marcus says.
Probably because she’d have to be outside our shield to have her aromium active, and she can’t get a blood transfusion in the jungle.
Adele cuts out of line, running ahead of the rest of us. We were in such a hurry to get to Ellison that we left the aromium switch hidden in a bush, and I think she wants to get to it without Theron seeing where we hid it.
Rainfall slices through the thick, humid late morning air. When we reach the switch point, Adele puts the switching device next to Nova’s right hip first, powering off her device with a beep.
Nova shudders, the deactivation hitting her hard. Marcus takes Ellison from her, Ellison limp and unconscious now.
“Give us a five-minute lead,” Marcus says as Adele switches off my aromium.
Nova’s bent at the waist, throwing up. Switching off is hard on people, but it’s never been an issue for me. I hate leaving her, but we have to.
“McClain won’t be able to help,” he says. “It’s just us.”
That one word—us—makes my heart squeeze in my chest. I thought the two of us would change this island hell into something better. Find a way for those who want to go back home. We’re the most powerful people here, and together, we’re a force.
I miss what we had. Or, I guess, what I thought we had.
I trusted him and believed in him with my whole heart.
Now I fear he hasn’t tried to explain his involvement in making aromium because there is no explanation.
He was Team Whitman—until he wasn’t. I don’t know how to trust anyone who supports that monster.
Word seems to have spread around camp, because when we go through the front gate, people are standing around watching us. It’s not curiosity, but worry I see etched into their expressions.
We don’t have time to stop and reassure them. The news that we’re giving up half our supplies and weapons is going to create more than just worry. It could be an all-out panic, and Marcus may not be around to steady the ship.
Getting Ellison stabilized is more important, though. The guards at the Sub entrance scramble to get the door open as we approach, rain falling so heavily it’s hard to see through it.
“Don’t leave your posts,” Marcus barks at the guards as we run into the Sub.
We race down the wide concrete path into the main area quickly. There are only a handful of people down here, and they give us a wide berth.
Marcus takes Ellison into one of her treatment rooms, setting her on the table.
“I need two sixteen-gauge needles and tubing.” He goes over to the wall and pulls open the stainless steel cabinet doors one at a time, frantically searching. “You have to be above her and your arm needs to be below your heart.”
“Above her. Okay. Uh ...”
I search the room, trying to figure out how I’m going to position myself above Ellison without the ability to levitate.
“You can sit on the table,” Marcus says. “Find some alcohol wipes and clean your antecubital site on both arms.”
“Where is that?” I’ve seen Ellison get alcohol wipes, so I’m able to go right to the drawer where she keeps them.
“Inner elbow. Clean her sites, too.” He slams a cabinet door. “Fuck! Where’s the fucking tubing?”
I make an executive decision, opening the door and yelling out into the main Sub area. “Someone go get McClain! Carry him here if you have to. We need him right now!”
“I can do this,” Marcus says, but I feel like he’s talking to himself more than me.
I answer anyway.
“I know you can. But her arm needs to be stitched up, too. You only have so many hands.”
“No, it’s good. You’re right, we need McClain.”
He gets his supplies together while I clean my arms and Ellison’s, trying not to think about how pale and lifeless she looks.
The dirt and blood smeared all over her jars me, because this is Ellison.
Always steady. Always calm. Always helping the rest of us with everything from bug bites to amputations.
She’s the caregiver, not the one who needs it.
Until now.
Marcus is so tall I have to look up to meet his eyes from my position sitting on the table. So many emotions swirl around in the dark-brown depths of his eyes that it takes my breath away.
“You’re positive you’re O neg?” he asks, taking a needle out of its packaging.
“Positive.”
“I don’t have a soft touch.”
My heart does a wild dance in my chest as I say, “I know.”
He used to ravage me in bed, pinning me down and bringing me to a new plane of consciousness with his body. It wasn’t just the climax—the savage, all-consuming way he got me there each time was like nothing I’d ever felt before.
He studies my inner arm, goose bumps washing over my skin. “I have to put on a tourniquet. It’ll hurt.”
“Just do it.”
I watch him work, too engrossed to even think about the discomfort.
His brows are pinched together with concentration, a crease between them.
I still remember exactly how the shadow of stubble on his face felt on my inner thighs.
Neither of us cared how sweaty or exhausted we were at night.
That was our only time to be alone. To work out the emotional and physical ups and downs of the day with each other.
My pulse pounds with awareness, my hands itching to touch him. Aromium on or off, I have a baseline craving for him that I don’t think will ever subside. And I hate that he’s detached and unbothered right now.
I swear as he sinks the needle beneath my skin.
“I got it,” he says. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
His gaze flicks to mine, and then he goes to work on Ellison, picking up her uninjured arm to search for a pulse.
“Fuck. It’s so weak.”
“The blood will help.”
He exhales heavily, examining her arm. “Her veins are shot.”
He tries to insert a needle into the same place he put mine, but he groans with frustration when he misses her vein. He tries again and gets the same result. I hold my breath, knowing Ellison’s life hangs in the balance.
When he tries the back of her hand, he misses again and closes his eyes, frustrated. I put a hand on his shoulder, trying to reassure him.
The door to the room bursts open and Stephen, one of our burliest guards, sets a frail Dr. McClain down. McClain does a three-second assessment of Ellison, Marcus, and me.
“I can’t get a vein,” Marcus says. “Can you try?”
McClain cringes, looking pained. “My hands aren’t steady enough. Use her external jugular.”
Marcus meets his gaze and shakes his head. “If I fuck that up, sh—”
“You won’t. Look at her, Marcus. She needs your help right now.”
An invisible weight presses on Marcus’s shoulders as he uses an antiseptic wipe to clean the site on Ellison’s neck. McClain takes Ellison’s hand, his brows sinking with concern as he searches for her pulse.
“Now, Marcus. There’s no time to waste.”
Marcus doesn’t hesitate. He positions the needle above the vein, then pauses.
“You’ve got it,” McClain says, squinting.
He pushes the needle in, not breathing.
“It’s in,” he says.
“Start Briar and I’ll start Ellison,” McClain says. “Very slow flow at first. Then get me the supplies to clean and stitch this wound.”
Marcus removes my tourniquet, his dark eyes flicking to mine. I wish we were alone in the room, because this is the first time I haven’t felt too furious to ask him the questions that fire through my mind every day.
“Tell me if you feel dizzy or weak,” he says, putting two fingers over the pulse point on my wrist.
The wave of dizziness that hits isn’t from blood loss, but from feeling his skin on mine. His massive hands have always had the power to crush me, but he’s used them to protect me. To pleasure me. His body still feels like my safe place, because it was his lie of omission that undid us.
Marcus brings McClain the supplies he needs, standing beside him to help as he closes Ellison’s knife wound. If she pulls through this, she’ll have a wicked scar.
After checking Ellison’s pulse, McClain says, “Let’s increase the flow.”
Nodding, Marcus comes around to me and adjusts something. He stands close—right in front of me.
“Briar, speak up if you get faint,” McClain says. “We don’t want you passing out.”
“I will.”
There’s a soft knock at the door, and Amira looks in the room, her expression tentative.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but things ... aren’t great out there, and I thought you’d want to know.”
“Is Nova back?” Marcus asks.
“Um, yes, she is ...”
Marcus furrows his brow. “Out with it, Amira. What’s going on?”
“Nova knocked out one of the Sub guards because we’re on lockdown and he wouldn’t let her in here.”
“How did you get in here, then?”
“I told them you sent for me.”
He gives her a quick, wry smile. “Pretty tight system we’ve got going, huh?”
She gestures over her shoulder. “I have to get back. I just wanted to update you. And check on Briar.”
“I’m good,” I assure her.
“Tell the guards I said to let Nova down here,” Marcus says. “And tell Stella to do whatever she has to do to get order back. I’m gonna be here a while.”
“I can handle this,” McClain offers.
Marcus shakes his head. “I’m staying. What’s the issue, anyway?”
Amira looks apologetic. “I don’t know everything that’s going on, but people are complaining about us bringing half our supplies to the switch point for the Tiders.”
“As long as they’re doing it anyway.”
“Enough people are.”
He nods. “Tell Stella I’ll be up as soon as I can.”
Amira leaves. I close my eyes and breathe in slowly, trying to stem the swimming sensation in my head.
“What is it?” Marcus asks, still so close I can feel the warmth of his body.
“I’m okay. Just a little dizzy.”
“Can you bring another exam table in here for her to lie down on?” McClain asks. “We can raise it up higher than Ellison’s.”
Instead of answering, Marcus gently scoops me into his arms. My heart races, his warmth reminding me of falling asleep with him every night. I used to get sweaty when he spooned me, his massive body engulfing mine. Now I lie alone in my cot at night, hollowed out inside.
“Let your arm hang,” he says, holding me close.
He’s a brick wall of muscle, but something soft swims in his dark-chocolate-and-caramel eyes. Emotions clog in my throat because even though he hurt me, I still know he’d die for me without hesitation.
We fell for each other hard and fast, and he became the best part of this fucked-up paradise prison. I don’t know what to do with these feelings I have now. I’m angry, but also still sure of him.
“Her pulse is improving,” McClain says, snapping Marcus and me out of our daze.
“Good,” Marcus murmurs.
Nova bursts through the door, her tear-streaked face going straight to her wife.
“Briar’s giving her blood,” McClain explains.
“She’ll live?” Nova asks, a note of pleading in her tone.
“I think so.”
Nova’s eyes lock onto mine. “Thank you, Briar.”
“Of course. I’d give her anything she needed.”
She looks at Marcus, the tension between them still palpable.
“Thank you for saving her,” she says tightly.
He just nods.
I had no idea when I killed Virginia that I was tipping the first domino in a series of actions that would follow.
If I hadn’t killed her, Theron wouldn’t be here. Ellison wouldn’t have been kidnapped. We’d still have all our supplies.
It was me or her, though. I had no choice.
I curl into Marcus’s chest, letting my mind and body rest. None of us knows which domino will fall next, but I have a feeling it won’t be anything good for us.