Chapter Forty-Seven
“Thank the Gods you’re okay!” A relieved River rushes to my side as I pry myself from the forest floor.
“Why, did you miss me?” Ryder taunts back at him, and a small laugh escapes Rivers’ mouth.
“You wish,” River snaps back with a smile on his face and lends me a hand up.
“I liked it better when you two hated each other,” I interrupt with a cheeky smile, latching onto River’s hand as he pulls me up.
“I am really glad you are okay though; you had me worried there for a sec,” River emphasises looking genuinely relieved.
“I’m sorry I pushed you through the portal,” I admit, hoping he hasn’t held a grudge. “I had to, because I knew you wouldn’t leave my side.”
“It’s okay, Asha. I get it.” He stands closer to me. “You’re right. I would never have left your side.” He smiles a small smile and retreats towards the rest of the camp.
My eyes rejoice as they look around at all the people we have saved, smiling faces and laughter sing through the trees around us.
“We actually did it,” I whisper, still in disbelief at our success. Ryder’s smile is large, with his dimples showing at the corners of his cheeks, but something unsettles me. “Don’t you think that was a little too… easy?” I ask as an eeriness unsettles my stomach.
“We got them out… that’s all that matters.”
He places his hand on my lower back as we stand admiring the sight in front of us. I rest my head on his chest, trying to dampen the feeling. But I think Ryder feels it too.
Kyro’s shadows dissipate into the air as he swoops down and chirps at Ryder, whose body instinctively tenses against my cheek.
“What is it?” I ask, worried.
“My father. He’s here.” He clears his throat and shakes me off him. “He wishes to speak with me.”
The branches snap as the trees part, making way for the armed bodies filtering into our camp.
Their weapons glint under the moonlight as they stride towards us.
A tall, defined man leads them with his head high; something about him feels familiar.
He has dark hair and narrow eyes, and cradles his arrow like it is an extra limb.
They continue walking in synchrony, their steps slightly vibrating the loose dirt on the ground.
They flood into the camp, their bodies drowning out ours, two hundred heavily armed men outnumbering our small army.
I let out a shaky breath as Ryder slips away and exchanges a few words with their leader, his father, as their army integrates with ours.
There is no warmth in their interaction.
They stand mirroring each other with stern masks, their eyes like chips of flint as they communicate with only words.
Nothing more, not even a flicker of emotion.
Ryder was raised like a soldier by a soldier.
Their stoicism is unsettling. They stand ramrod straight, their joints stiff and unmoving until something changes.
Ryder pushes back, clearly annoyed at what he is hearing, and I cannot see anymore.
A fat soldier plants himself in front of me, blocking me from seeing anything other than his armoured vest, and I grunt in frustration, trying to push past his huge frame.
I worm my way through a sea of immovable muscle, trying to get closer to Ryder.
I catch another glimpse of him, Ryder’s father, this time the moon highlights the scar that runs down the right side of his face, and, like a lightning bolt to my memory.
I remember him. He was there that night in the dining hall with Miss Worthington.
My heart begins to scream at me as my lungs fight for air.
“RYDER!” I shout to warn him, but the soldiers’ bodies draw in closer, constricting me as I squeeze past their torsos, ducking under their arms, trying to get to him. “HE’S WITH THEM!” I scream, but the bodies drown out my cries.
In the blink of an eye, they turn on us, and one takes hold of me by the neck of my shirt, his hands gripping tightly to my shoulders.
I whimper and try to press my way out, struggling and clawing at his hands, but they are glued to me.
I feel a sharp scratch as he holds a syringe close to the vein in my neck, and I watch in horror as the other Moons around me drop at the hands of the soldiers.
I wince as he presses the needle deep into my skin, and my eyes become heavy, my knees weaken, forcing me onto the cold ground below.
My vision is becoming blurred, and everything looks sideways.
The faint outline of Ryder stumbling towards me with a needle hanging out of his shoulder pains me; his movements are heavy and sluggish as he fights the sleep serum.
He reaches me and drops down beside me, his hand draping over mine.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers before sleep takes us hostage.