Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I want to run. My heart races. I want to turn and get as far away from this silent man who smells like cigarette smoke as I can. As far away from everything as I can.
Holland flips out behind me, trying to yank her arm out of my grip. I hold tight, thinking about drawing my knife with my left hand. Will I be able to do it? My gut twists.
The man, numbered Twenty-Seven, looks down at my belt, then back up at me. He grins under his mask, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
“Lucky number Fourteen. Getting favors from the very beginning.”
I notice the sounds of shouting far away, but I have to re-adjust my grip on Holland. She’s straining for her backpack that’s lying on the ground just a few feet away.
“I don’t want any trouble.” Holland is moving behind me, but I can’t rip my eyes away from the man, not for a second.
The man says nothing, just keeps looking at me with that gaze. Eyes that look blank again while he stands unnaturally still.
There’s another shout, closer now. The man’s gaze shifts for just a fraction to where the sound came from.
“We’ll just be going.” I take a slow step to the side, making sure Holland stays with me. I don’t realize how dark it’s gotten, but the woods are shadowy and gray.
Twenty-Seven just smiles again.
I keep moving both of us away from him. Back toward where I came from. The shouts come again, followed by a scream that makes the hair stand up on my arms.
Twenty-Seven turns to look toward the sound. I pull Holland faster, feeling her trip behind me.
“My bag,” she hisses.
“No time.” My heart is racing, pulling her as far away from that man as I can. Instinct is screaming at me to get away from him, but not to run. If I run, I know he’ll chase. When I turn, Twenty-Seven is watching us again. His head cocks slightly.
Holland is really fighting me now, but I’m not sure if it’s to get away from Twenty-Seven or me.
We’re passing trees and bushes that will hide us from the other hunter. As soon as I can’t see him anymore, I start running. Holland runs with me. I can’t shake the feeling that I have to keep her hidden from that man.
We run for what feels like forever and no time at all.
The dark trees blur past, and all I can think is get away, get away.
Finally, Holland stumbles behind me, yanking my arm in my socket.
I stop, and she’s off her feet, looking small and broken, lying on the ground.
Immediately, guilt punches me in the gut, and I reach down to help her up.
Holland sucks in heavy breaths, looking up at me with hatred in her eyes.
“Holland, I’m sorry—”
“My name,” she rasps, putting an arm up to fend me off, “is fucking Holli.”
I stand there, staring at her. As I do, she looks up at me, and her voice gets louder. Meaner. “My name is fucking Holli!”
She stands, but stumbles. Immediately, I reach out to catch her, and as soon as I grip her arm, I realize her skin is on fire.
“Get the fuck off me,” she shouts. Her gaze is unfocused, and she can barely stand.
“We have to keep going.” But Holland—Holli’s—breathing is shallow, and there’s sweat around her hairline. She mutters something that sounds like ‘cold.’
“What?”
“Coat!” Holli stumbles again, and this time I have to hold her up. I look at her closer, and as I do, I see raindrops start to splash on her forehead and cheeks. She doesn’t even blink.
Glancing up through the trees, I realize the sky is dark and stormy. It’s starting to rain harder now, the drops of water cooling on my sweaty scalp. For a second, I suck in a breath, my heart racing in my ears, trying to cool down.
“Need my coat.”
I glance down, and Holli is starting to stumble back the way we came. She’s holding her arms to herself like she’s freezing.
“Holli—”
“You left my fucking coat!” She’s screaming now. Instinctively, I wince, looking around.
“Holli, he could be following us.”
She acts like she can’t even hear me.
I follow after her, jogging to step around in front of her. She just moves around me without even listening, sniffling a little like she’s trying to hold back tears.
“Holli.” I grab her arm, and she looks at me like it’s the first time she’s seeing me. There’s terror in her eyes, and she opens her mouth to scream.
Fuck. I squat down, ducking under Holli’s arm, I throw my shoulder under her torso and pick her up. She screams, but I head for a dark cluster of trees. She’s panicking, and I need to keep her safe.
The rain is really coming down now, soaking the top of my head, but Holli is like a hot blanket on top of me. Really hot. Unusually hot.
Fuck. Is she sick?
Making it to the trees, I duck under the brush near them. The trunks are huge, bigger than any evergreens I’ve ever seen, but there’s an area where the tree has grown over a giant boulder, and the roots make an overhang a few feet over the top. Ducking under it, I put Holli down.
She’s shivering, teeth clacking together, even though we’re mostly sheltered from the rain here, and for some reason, it makes me pissed. She doesn’t get to get sick before I can save her.
The good news is she’s stopped fighting me.
Shrugging out of my backpack and shirt, I offer the shirt to her.
It’s mostly dry since she kept most of the rain off my back, although I realize as soon as I hand it over that it’s the same shirt I’ve been living in for the last four days, and it probably smells.
Holli glares at it for a second, blinks slowly, then takes it from me and puts it on.
“You sick?” I ask, looking her up and down. She’s wearing dirty, ripped clothing, and her skin has a grayish look to it.
Holli shakes her head, but her teeth are chattering so hard I can hear it over the sound of the rain.
For a second, I worry she’ll run again. But minutely, her head drops, and she stays right where she is, shivering.
It has cooled down a bit, but it’s still so muggy out that I feel like I can’t breathe. I have no idea how she’s cold.
Digging in my backpack, I uncap the water, then hand it to Holli. She doesn’t get to refuse me on this.
She doesn’t try. She just grabs the water and guzzles it, drinking the entire thing. As I watch, a bolt of guilt twists my gut. Searching my bag, I grab a pack of peanuts and hand it to her. This time, she waves me off, looking in the bag.
I frown, but instead of picking another snack, she finds another water.
I intercept her before she can drink it. “Slow down, you’ll get sick.”
Holli tosses me a glare, her blue eyes glassy.
She clearly has a fever, and a high one at that. Helplessness grips my chest. I don’t know what to do for a fever. I don’t have any meds.
Wait.
Digging through the pack, I pull out the first-aid kit, opening it with shaking hands. There isn’t much, but there is a small pack labeled pain reliever, fever reducer. Relief hits me.
“Take this.” I shove it at Holli.
She glares at me again. Like I’m the bad guy. But, she snatches the bag from my hand, nails digging into my palm, and then she downs the meds.
Why is she so scared of me? I’ve done nothing but try to help her. But as I watch the water sheet down and puddle around our feet, I remember that the only reason either of us is here is me. This is my fault.
Anxious energy makes me bounce. The rain needs to let up so we can make it back to the villa. Surely there will be more meds there. Kyan would know where they are.
My face flushes thinking about him. He stole a kiss from me while looking like he wanted to hurt me. I kissed a man. Again. And then he went all weird.
I’m not sure why, but a chill chases across my exposed skin, and I wonder what Kyan is doing now.
No. I shut down those thoughts with a scowl. I don’t care. All I care about is that he gets us off this damn island.
My feet and legs ache, and I crouch on my heels to relieve the pressure.
After a while fighting to focus on just the mud streaming in front of me, I realize that Holli is still standing, shifting uncomfortably.
Narrowing my gaze, I calculate how fast I could catch her if she ran, but the longer I watch her, the more I realize she’s favoring one leg.
She turns to avoid a nasty blast of wind, hair plastered to her face. That distinct hair of hers with the streak painting a white line down her face makes me stare. She looks like a marble statue in clothes, all pale, staring out into the storm.
Holli looks at me, and immediately I drop my gaze, and as I do, I catch sight of a rip in her pants. And under it, red, inflamed skin. Not alabaster. Red. And as the rain slows for a second, I hear her breathing over it. Fast breathing.
Suddenly, I’m a kid again, staring at the fox with the white tip on its tail, trapped, scared, and afraid. My gut twists with that same churning feeling.
Holli is that fox. Only this time, I’m the one who put her in the cage in the first place.