Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
As much as I glare at the back of Oakley’s head, I can’t make us go any faster.
Once the rain let up, he started walking me to the villa.
It’s the last place I want to go, considering all the hunters stay there.
But it’s also the most likely place to find a boat or a plane or anything to get away from here.
I’m definitely going to die out in the woods, so what’s the worst that can happen?
I die, but much closer to a chance at freedom?
As we walk, I rack my fuzzy brain for reasons Oakley is playing the wounded hero. Maybe this is a fetish. He saves his mark, gets to play the savior, and then gets off when his victims trust him enough to curl up in his arms.
I can’t help but notice his slim but fit body and the way he’s mastered the kicked-puppy look with those compelling eyes under that fringe of hair.
Which pisses me off. He doesn’t need to go through all these measures.
One be-nice-to-me-I’m-a-wounded-animal look from him, combined with his model body, and I’m sure he has anyone he wants falling into his bed.
Oakley casts yet another worried glance back at me.
I glare at him. He should be worried. If I could run, I would.
But I feel like I’m floating in a fog, and my leg hurts like hell.
Also, as much as I fucking hate it, Oakley seems like a barrier between the other hunters and me.
Twenty-Seven didn’t chase me because he was too focused on Oakley.
Or Fourteen. I hate calling him Oakley. We aren’t on a first-name basis.
He doesn’t get to act like he cares about me.
Walking has made me less cold, but I’m still shivering.
Or maybe it was the meds I took. By the time we get to an area where the trees are blackened, I still don’t have a plan.
So when Oakley stops us, grabs a mask out of his bag, and tells me to put it on.
I just stare. The mask has deer antlers and a skull.
But the sudden stop in movement makes me dizzy.
He proceeds to give me that pleading look again, and I snatch it roughly out of his hand. Either Oakley is highly insecure, or he’s a master manipulator with no feelings at all. And let’s be honest, the first option is what he wants me to believe. Therefore, it’s almost guaranteed to not be true.
“I don’t want people to see you,” Oakley urges, and his shoulder ticks, looking over his shoulder to where I can just see the villa. I grind my teeth, but he’s right. The fewer hunters who know I’m here and therefore want to join in on whatever Oakley’s plans are, the better.
I put on the mask without a fight, and Oakley’s face drops in relief. Then he starts leading me inside.
For the first time, when I’m not running for my life, I get a good look at the villa.
It looms above us, in an odd mix of old Japanese-style architecture and a Holiday Inn.
It has the classic boxy structure of an American hotel, only with roof corners that curve up at the top, and is painted a rust-red. Like blood. It feels weird. Wrong.
Another shiver racks through me as I step up to a set of doors off a patio, and the urge to run ramps up in my muscles.
If Oakley looks back at me again, I think I’ll run.
His head starts to turn, and I plant my toes to turn, but then the door opens, and someone in an employee uniform walks out, and Oakley gets distracted.
For an instant, I think about begging the employee for help.
He looks normal, older, with gray hair and a polite smile.
Surely he has kids at home? A daughter my age?
“Hey.” Oakley is giving me a look, and this time, he’s dropped the bullshit caring act, and he actually looks afraid. And some odd instinct drives me to freeze.
“C’mon.” Oakley is holding out his hand.
The old man gives me another polite smile, then he walks away.
Oakley grabs my hand and pulls me inside, no longer giving me an out to run if I wanted to. He guides me to an elevator and grabs me around the elbow. Immediately, I jerk out of his grip, only for it to tighten.
“Let go of me—” That’s when I feel him shaking.
Oakley clears his throat, gaze darting around before guiding us on. He presses a button and then is silent. The more silent he is, the more I sweat. Why isn’t he trying to charm me? Is this an adrenaline dump before he does something he knows is wrong?
I’m sweating under the mask, and it feels hard to breathe. I’m screwed. I’m so screwed. When the elevator opens, I just want to stay in this safe box. Surely there’s someone nice on this island. Or if not nice, at least not a murderer. And it’s cold again. Freezing cold.
“Holli.” Oakley’s voice is sharp. With fear?
He pulls me out of the elevator, and I try to fight, but I’m shivering so hard it feels like I’ve lost control of my limbs. Just like I’ve lost control of my life.
Oakley drags me down the hall and into a room, shutting the door carefully behind us and locking it.
I back into the room, barely able to get the mask off my face. “Don’t t-t-touch me.”
Oakley turns, chest heaving slightly. Seeing me back in the room, he immediately raises his hands. “I don’t think anyone noticed.”
I hit the air conditioning unit at the far end of the room, then am blasted by frigid air. I jump, teeth clacking.
Oakley winces. “I’ll get a shower started.”
I open my mouth, but he disappears into the bathroom, and the thought of being warm overwhelms me. I need it more than I’ve needed anything.
Oakley comes back out, immediately searching for me in the room. As soon as he sees me, his shoulders relax. “There’s shampoo and conditioner in there.”
I’m drawn to the bathroom like there’s a magnet in my chest, but I force myself to pause. I need to walk past my captor and then get naked. While he’s right outside.
Oakley must realize my hesitation at the same time, because he gets that obnoxious look in his eyes.
The one where he looks like I kicked him in the nuts for no reason.
It’s enough to make me straighten and stare down my nose at him.
At least as much as I can, given how tall he is.
He backs up to the bed, sitting on it and dropping his gaze away from me.
It makes his dark lashes fall on his cheeks in a pretty, shadowed mess, which, in turn, makes my blood boil.
“Come in, and I’ll cut your dick off.” I stalk past him and try to slam the bathroom door. Only, it doesn’t slam, it’s one of those slow-shut doors, which just makes my hands shake more. There is no lock. I glance around. There’s nothing to barricade the door with either.
The bathroom is warm, steam filling it, and I immediately remember what it’s like to be comfortable.
Even still, I’m frozen for a while. I don’t want to get naked with Oakley so close.
But inevitably, I realize that if he wanted me naked, he’d get me that way whether I want to or not.
That’s what gets me in the shower, and I stay there for as long as I can.
I stay until I’ve scrubbed every last bit of filth from my scalp and under my nails and until my skin prunes.
And then I stay longer, the water pounding on the plastic tag in my ear.
It hurts, the pounding water jolting my tag and sending shooting pain into my skull.
And yet, I don’t move. Maybe if I stay here forever, everything will disappear.
Eventually, when I almost pass out from the heat, I force my body out of the shower. I feel less achy, but still sick. As I stare at myself in the mirror, a fevered look in my eyes, my stomach drops.
How sick am I? I’m not sure what that bug was. The wound itself hurts, but less so with the sharp pain from the initial bite. Now it feels infected. Which is…a good thing? Does that mean the fever is just from the infection and not that the bite was poisonous?
Wait, venom or poison? My brain latches onto that useless detail, turning it over and over as I stare at my dirty clothes. They look even worse now, covered in grime and dirt and dark spots that I don’t even want to know. I don’t want to put them back on, but I don’t want to be naked.
So, reluctantly, I put them back on, almost gagging from the scent, listening for any sounds from Oakley outside the door.
Nothing.
The thought of the helpless act pisses me off again, but just for a moment, I wonder if there’s any possibility Oakley is telling the truth. That he really wants to get me off the island.
Immediately, I stuff that thought back down. Not only is it highly unreasonable, but it’s also dangerous.
Kindness is never safe.
With that thought, I narrow my eyes and head out of the bathroom, ready to face Oakley down.
Only, the room is empty. I freeze, staring at the empty king-size bed, then whirl to glance at the closet. Empty. Feeling stupid, I look under the bed. Nothing. Behind the curtains, it’s dark outside. Nothing.
He’s not here.
I’m alone.
I can escape.
Immediately, I turn to the door. But right as I put my hand on the handle, I hear voices outside.
Jumping back, I put space between myself and the door. The voices are low and deep. One laughs, a mean sound. I don’t recognize it.
Hunters.
My stomach cramps, and a wave of cold drops on me. I can’t go out there right now. They’ll eat me alive. It would be like running from the pot to the fire.
Frozen, I stand there, stuck between two horrible options.
That’s when I see the notepad on the desk.
The ‘stay here’ is underlined.
A bunch of emotions roll through me at once. Anger, defiance, hatred, helplessness, and fear all roll up and slap me like ocean waves. Energy coils up in my body and vibrates down my arms in an odd sensation that I don’t know what to do with. So, I slap the offending note off the table.
The notepad shoots off the end, fluttering to the ground, pages flapping around. I glare at it after it’s landed, breathing hard.
How dare he? How dare he fuck up my life like this?