Chapter 16
AMELIA
My knuckles were bleached white as I held on to the door and the dashboard for dear life. The truck tipped and dipped as Jude rumbled over a trail that he claimed was a road.
Roads had asphalt and line markings.
Roads didn’t have trees on them.
Roads were on maps.
But we were hours away from the last real road, lumbering slowly toward whatever lay ahead.
Jude seemed confident that he was going the right way, but I was convinced that, at any moment, he’d drive us right over a cliff.
My stomach lurched as the truck slammed into a pothole.
“Fuckin’ groundhogs,” Jude muttered as he eased out of it.
I let out a slow breath as flashes of heat wrapped around my forehead and neck. “I’m gonna be sick.”
Jude arched an eyebrow. “Don’t.”
Bile launched up my throat, but I choked it down, focusing on the sting of stomach acid rather than the roller coaster ride from hell. “I don’t think that’s a choice I can make.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Do you always get carsick?”
“Not usually.”
He glared at me.
I huffed. “Sometimes. If I’m not driving. More after I’ve been drugged, apparently.”
“You should have told me.”
An involuntary scoff slipped free. “I should have told you I get carsick? You know—before you kidnapped me?”
“Proactively re—”
“I know, I know. Proactively relocated,” I finished for him, throwing my hands up.
Jude swung around a tree, the tires eating up fallen branches as we drove on toward . . . more goddamn trees.
“Jesus Christ,” I whispered as I closed my eyes and tried to pretend like I was on a roller coaster ride.
Nope. Not seeing what was coming didn’t help. I glanced at Jude, who looked completely unfazed as he careened and swerved around rocks, holes, and trees that were barely far enough apart for him to squeeze the truck through. “You’re the world’s worst driver.”
Jude just smiled.
“Do you even know what direction you’re going?
” I pressed as I looked around. We were completely engulfed in the forest. With all the turns he had taken, using rocks and trees as landmarks, I didn’t know which direction the actual road was.
There was no way to find it, even if I tried.
“You’re bringing me out here to kill me, aren’t you? ”
“Killing you would be the easy way out.” Jude’s expression tightened as he glanced at the time on the dash. “They’ve probably started looking for me.”
I whipped around and stared at him, but Jude just kept driving on. “What are you talking about?”
He flicked his eyes toward me, arching an eyebrow, then turned his attention back to the trees ahead. “John Valentine doesn’t tolerate dissent or deserters. He especially doesn’t tolerate people living who are supposed to be dead.”
Prickles of fear danced through my bones. I had spent the last few hours of the drive pretending to sleep while I contemplated how to escape again.
But not once did I think about the fact that Jude was running too.
The comment about not taking the easy way out stuck with me. If he had killed me, he probably would’ve been rewarded. But he didn’t, which meant he was in danger too.
He had put himself in danger . . . for me.
My stomach sank, but the uneasiness wasn’t from nausea—it was from the fact that the only person who’d ever gone out of their way for me was a man who was supposed to take my life.
Before I could respond, Jude spoke up again. “We’re here.”
Sunbeams danced through the heavy tree cover, reflecting off the windshield. I squinted and used my hand to hide the glare as Jude cut the engine.
Silence descended upon us like a low fog, heavy and suffocating.
“I need you to make me a promise, Amelia,” Jude said as he leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes.
“What’s that?”
He let out a slow breath. “Don’t try to run away until after I’ve gotten some sleep.”
I thought it over as the weight of the last twenty-four hours made my chest ache. If what he said was true, it was mutually assured destruction if either of us gave the other up.
I couldn’t get complacent. No matter how much it seemed like he was on my side, the side he was most on was his own.
If I was Jude’s escape plan, that also meant I was his bargaining chip. If John Valentine came after us the way Jude believed he would, I was his get-out-of-jail-free card.
I fingered the soft cotton of the clothes Jude had gotten for me from the gas station. It was thoughtful. Sure, I looked absolutely ridiculous, but it was better than a dress and bare feet.
Realization dawned on me.
It wasn’t kindness. It was manipulation. He was trying to lull me into a false sense of security, the way he had at the casino—helping me and giving me tips.
But at the casino, he had only ever tried to warn me away. Even then, he knew what would happen if I kept showing up. And when he realized just how stubborn I was, he tried to help me stay safe in the lion’s den.
Every possible iteration of his intentions and what might happen out here warred in my mind. A yawn of exhaustion came out on top. “I’m too tired to make promises I won’t keep,” I said. “Are you going to tell me where we are?”
“The Monongahela National Forest. So if you do run, you should be more afraid of the land than the people hunting us,” Jude said, ignoring the lack of my promise. He wasn’t at all surprised, and I respected that. At least we were seemingly on the same page.
Tiredness crept in like a fast-acting drug. It felt like the chloroform wrapping me in a deceitful hug once more. “Either take me to a bed or kill me right here. I just want to sleep,” I said.
Jude chuckled. “Come on, little fox.”
I eased out on weak legs. Any strength I had left had been sapped by the spontaneous road trip. My knees buckled the second I set foot on the ground.
“Whoa there,” Jude said as he appeared at my side. How did someone so big move so silently? And so fast? His hands spanned my waist, keeping me upright until I found my footing on the damp ground.
Leaves littered every inch of the ground. I blinked at the cabin until it came into focus. It wasn’t run-down per se, but it was . . . quaint.
“Home sweet home,” Jude said as he took my hand and led me to the front door. I didn’t miss the way he slipped his fingers between mine or the gentle, reassuring squeeze he offered. “Watch your step.”
I froze. “Are there booby traps?”
Jude’s eyes immediately dropped to my chest.
I rolled my eyes. “Oh my god. Could you be more immature? I said booby trap. Not boobs. I just need to know if I’m going to fall into a giant pit of spikes.”
He smiled sheepishly and turned his gaze back to the house that was—is it actually leaning or am I just delirious?
A cricket jumped out from beneath a pile of leaves and hopped onto my bare toes. I shrieked as I leaped into the air, all but jumping out of my skin.
Jude did nothing but stare at me with a raised eyebrow.
“Did you see that thing?!” I shrieked. “It was the size of a mouse!” I wiggled and curled my toes against the foam flip-flops, as if I could still feel it on my skin.
He blinked at me, then huffed. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but please don’t run. I’m genuinely concerned about what would happen to you if you tried.”
“Maybe I’m just lulling you into a false sense of security,” I said as I kept a watchful eye on the ground, tiptoeing around anything that could hide something jumpy or slithery. “Maybe I was a Girl Scout. Maybe I go camping and hiking on the weekends. Maybe I—”
“Snake,” Jude said calmly, pointing near my right foot.
I screamed bloody-fucking-murder and jumped into his side, clawing at his arm, practically begging for him to scoop me up.
He didn’t.
Instead, he stepped in front of me, crossed his arms, and arched a rather judgmental eyebrow. “You do nothing except work, occasionally grab lunch with your colleagues, and your idea of being outdoorsy is sitting in the sun at Fenway rather than sitting in the shade.”
Right. Because Jude isn’t just the hot, kind of scary bouncer from the casino. He had assaulted my brother, stalked both of us, and kidnapped me. I couldn’t let myself forget that, no matter how kind he was in the quiet moments.
“Anyone with access to Google and Instagram could find that out.”
Jude shrugged. “And your ‘friend’ Jake wants to fuck you.”
I tripped, but Jude didn’t stop walking.
“Jake is one of my closest friends,” I said defensively. “We’re just friends.”
Jude scoffed. “Maybe to you.”
“Did you stalk him too?” I sassed.
He unlocked the door that looked like it was one light breeze away from collapsing but turned to face me instead of going inside.
“I know everything about you, Amelia. That includes everyone in your life.” He looked me up and down in a slow, deliberate appraisal.
“Which is why I know that Jake Hastings wants to fuck you. He was pretty pissed you turned him down after lunch.”
And with that, he went inside.
For a moment, I stood in the middle of the forest, staring at where Jude had been. Shell-shocked didn’t even begin to cover it.
I snapped out of the stupor with a shake of my head. “I’m too tired for these mind games,” I muttered as I made my way into the cabin.
Surprisingly, the inside of the cabin didn’t match the outside.
Where the exterior was a hodgepodge of mismatched boards, overgrown shrubs and climbing vines, crumbling shutters, and a roof that looked like it belonged in the story of “The Three Little Pigs”—after the wolf blows it down—the inside was neatly kept and appeared quite sturdy.