Chapter 22
Ronan
Cameron stands behind me, cleaning my shoulder while I stare at the rebel human.
He’s brave, I’ll give him that much, but obviously an imbecile. Anyone who stabs an Anunian with such a small knife and counts on a knock to the head to keep them down deserves to be slaughtered.
If I hadn’t been so distracted, I would’ve heard him coming long before he got within arm’s reach, and we could have lunch without the needle digging into my shoulder. A ragged breath hisses from my clenched teeth as Cam pours alcohol straight into the wound. “Sorry, Ro, I know it hurts,” he murmurs as he presses an apologetic kiss on the back of my head. “I’ll do my best to be gentle, but I’m not very good at this.” My fingers squeeze the edge of the table so hard the wood groans until the sting subsides. “Was tying him to the chair really necessary?”
I glance at Reyes again. “Be thankful it’s only his legs tied to the chair. ”
Cameron twists around my body, his eyebrow arching in challenge. “Did I just hear you wrong? Are you claiming that is all you did?”
Reyes watches us warily as I wave my hand in his direction. “Clearly, his ankles are the only part of his body that’s bound.”
“Hmm… interesting… very interesting. Do you, perhaps, want to know why it’s interesting?” I cross my arms over my chest and glance away, but it doesn’t stop him. “I’ll tell you why. If my memory is correct, when I came in with the medical kit, that maybe wasn’t the case, was it? His hands were tied behind his back, a rope bound his legs from his ankles to his thighs, and a towel was stuffed in his mouth.”
I refuse to look at him.
His giant, pouty puppy dog eyes already made me untie the rebel, and now he’s trying to convince me to feed it. Boomerang marches into the kitchen, having slept through the morning drama. Her tail thwacks against the ground as she discovers there’s a new person to visit. Brown eyes wide and conniving, she places her head in Reyes’s lap.
“Don’t touch my dog,” I snap, and his hand freezes midair.
“Oh, for the love of the gods,” Cameron scoffs. “She’s my dog. Pet her.”
Reyes stares between us again. “I’m going to be really honest… I don’t know what to do right now.”
“What you can do, rebel, is explain why you’re here.”
“This is my home,” he stresses, not hiding his irritation. “You’re the ones who came in and gathered up my supplies. ”
“We weren’t taking everything. I was simply categorizing our finds into a system that would be easier to decide what to keep and what to leave behind. There’s only so much room in our vehicle, after all. Priorities have to be given.”
Cameron leans forward, hand blocking his mouth as though he’s sharing a secret. “He has an organizing kink.”
Eyes narrowed into slits and a low growl rumbling in my chest, I twist to glare at Cameron right as he pushes the needle through my skin. “Motherfucker!” I shout, and Reyes jolts, spine straight as though good posture makes him appear more innocent.
“That hurt, Ro? Maybe you should sit still before I tie you up, too.”
I grumble, focusing on Reyes again. “How did you come to be here?”
He reaches to pet Boomerang before hesitating, and I find endless pleasure in his discomfort. Finally, his hand rests on her head, as if it’s a loophole that’ll satisfy both me and Cameron. “I’ve lived here for years.”
“In this rebel camp?”
Annoyed, he huffs, and his eyes flick upwards as if he might roll them, before a visible effort smooths his expression. “Outsiders like to call it that, yes, but the group that lived here was full of good people. I mean, did they steal and scavenge? Of course. It’s the only way to survive out here in the wilds.”
Cameron hums his agreement from behind me. “We were so well-stocked because we produced our own goods. The leaders were friendly with the other local camps, and we had a lot to trade.” He gestures towards the northwestern corner of the camp. “The field beyond the houses was once a garden that grew more fresh food than we could consume. Much of it was canned, but the rest was traded along with the seeds we collected every year.”
“Everyone had a trade, and if they didn’t, they learned one. Candlemakers, soapmakers, beekeepers, cheesemakers…”
“Ugh , cheese ,” Cam groans, and Reyes slips into a small grin.
“We generated products that most camps didn’t have the knowledge or capacity to make, so we traded it. It’s what kept the camp stocked. Raiders have passed through since I’ve been alone here, but scavengers only take what they can carry. Once they clear out a couple houses, I restock a few cabinets and closets so the next ones will be satisfied with their haul and move on.”
“Okay, let’s back up a second,” I say, and he looks at me expectantly. “Rewind to the reason you’re the only person here.”
He mindlessly rubs Boomerang’s head as she wags her tail. Useless guard dog, that one. “You found one of the cellars, but secret rooms are scattered all over the camp.”
“Wait,” I interrupt. “There’s even more stuff?”
“Yes,” Reyes says with an annoyed glare. “Tip of the iceberg, monster. Do you really think I’d let scavengers wipe me out?”
“I haven’t studied your particular brand of idiocy enough to make that assessment, rebel, though the signs are pointing to yes.”
“What he means,” Cameron interrupts, “is we’re listening.”
Reyes sighs, the sound absolutely filled with defeat. “Several years ago, I was working in one of the hidden rooms when there was a loud commotion from outside. I… I don’t know if it was a powerful group of raiders or military, but they came in and slaughtered everyone.”
“You mean to tell me you hid in your rat hole while your friends were murdered and didn’t even bother to help?”
He offers a careless shrug, but the way his eyes dart away, and the subtle clench in his jaw, betray his guilt. “One extra set of hands wouldn’t have made a difference, and I’m a gardener, not a fighter. I’m not proud of it, but if I had the chance to go back and do it again? I’d still stay in that damn ‘rat hole’ and be alive to tell the tale.”
The whole time we’ve been talking, Cameron has worked on my stitches, his fingers tugging and tying in a process that’s becoming all too familiar. Knowing how much he hates blood and gore, I wish it was something that wasn’t necessary, but even with my advanced healing abilities, some wounds require more than time. He reaches around me to grab a knife from the table, trimming the excess thread. The sting of alcohol burns once more before he covers the wound with a bandage.
He parts my hair to inspect the knot, and I suck in another sharp breath as he gently prods at it. “Stop being a baby,” he murmurs, but there’s no heat in his tone. After deeming it nonlethal, he brushes my hair back into place, giving a gentle squeeze to the back of my neck.
“You’re the one that called me baby earlier.” He rolls his eyes, pressing a barely-there kiss to my lips.
“Never going to live that down, am I? Call it a moment of insanity,” he teases, full of affection as we grin at each other. “I don’t even like you. ”
“Don’t lie, you love me,” I murmur, and his smile falters as his eyes dip to my mouth.
“Think so, do you?” His skin dimples where he chews on the inside of his cheek, and his thumb traces over my bottom lip. “Awfully sure of yourself.”
“Should I not be?”
“This is so not what I was expecting,” Reyes mutters, and both of us startle, having almost forgotten he was here. I clear my throat as Cameron cleans up his medical supplies.
I hold up my glowing palm, and Reyes’s eyes land on it before moving back up to mine. “You recognize this.” It’s a statement, not a question, but he nods anyway.
“The Mate’s Mark.”
Cameron assesses him carefully as he sinks into the chair beside mine, palm absentmindedly running over his mark. “You said something outside… that there should be more of us?” Reyes pulls his mouth into a flat line, glancing around like he’s searching for an escape. “You don’t have to be afraid of us.”
“Speak for yourself,” I grumble, but he ignores me.
“We’re by ourselves out here, and we don’t know anything about this.” He gestures at his arm again, and Reyes stares at the swirling light for a few long minutes before he pushes a long exhale through his nose.
“The camp is mostly quiet. Occasionally, a raider or small group comes through, fills their bags, and heads on their way. But a few months after the military left this place abandoned, a group of soldiers came, driving the exact same type of van you’re in.”
“How big a group?” I ask, and he bites at his lip as he thinks .
“That first time? Four soldiers and six prisoners. The captives were half human, half monster, except these monsters didn’t seem as vicious as the ones in uniform. Unless the humans were threatened, and that’s when they’d fight their chains and shout.”
“Are there restraints that can hold a pissed off monster?” Cameron asks, and I nod.
“Of course there are. Even though we came over here as a unit, there are always those who will dissent or want to grab power for themselves. There are ways to restrain our kind that are painful and sap our strength, and there are ways to subdue magic.”
“Magic?” Cameron asks, and Reyes appears curious as well.
“Some races from our side have abilities they are able to call on. Healing magic, shifting, heightened strength or stealth. The military has developed a type of collar that dulls that magic. It can’t get rid of it fully, but it suppresses it enough to where it’s harder to use, especially in such a stressful situation.”
“A few of them had metal collars on…” Reyes’s eyes narrow as he chews on the inside of his cheek. “How do you know so much about the military?”
“Ninety years of service will do that.”
His eyes flare slightly before darting over to Cameron, who traces his fingertip along the bare skin of my arm. “And how long have you been… out of the military?”
“You mean how long have I been on the run?” My brow arches slightly and he nods. “Hmm... how long’s it been now, Cameron?”
“How long have we been here?” he asks .
“A little over a week,” Reyes answers, and I give an agreeing nod.
“Well, there it is, then.”
“There what is?”
“How long I’ve been away from the military.”
“You…” He sputters to a stop, jerking back enough to make the legs of his chair scrape against the floor. “You mean to tell me you’re fresh on this path of desertion and you stop here?! ”
“Forgot to mention you broke me out of prison,” Cameron points out, and I grin as Reyes looks like he might faint. “And killed your commander.”
“Dear fucking gods above, I’m going to regret this. You’re going to lead them right to my door.”
“Enough about that,” I say, interrupting his spiral. “Continue your story. The humans and monsters were restrained by the soldiers?”
He takes another few deep breaths, and thinks I don’t notice him testing the ropes binding his legs before he sags in defeat. “They only stopped here for a night, but they had marks. Not all of them, or at least not where I could see them, but several had them on their hands, like you. A human woman had one on her forearm, and another I could see peeking out from a man’s shirt, on the back of his neck. They didn’t talk much, but you could tell they were couples. They’d curl up together as best they could with the chains, and the monsters were very protective of their humans.”
“The guards took turns on watch,” he continues, gesturing blindly towards the wall. “But they’d come inside for rest in shifts, and I could pick up on pieces of their conversations. They said they’d picked this group up from Atlanta.”
“That’s only a day’s drive from here,” I mutter, and Cam looks at me curiously.
“That’s a city, right?”
I nod, silently mapping our location in my head. “Yes, it’s the largest major city remaining in this part of the world. The military holds a strong presence there.”
“Have you ever been?”
“A few times,” I admit. “Though I’m not a fan of all those people in such tight quarters. The military built walls around the cities they were most anxious to protect, and the population from the surrounding wilds came to live within the borders, for the most part.”
“I’ve never been in a city,” Cameron mumbles, but I shake my head.
“You are not missing anything, mo’sziv. Maybe a century ago they were fun places to visit, but they are barely more than prisons at this point.”
“Then why do people stay there?” Reyes asks.
“Safety. Security. Propaganda has been around for decades, warning of the threats out in the wilds. Most of the humans inside the cities were born there and have never stepped outside the walls.”
“What the fuck do they think is out here?” Cameron asks, incredulous.
“Mutants… hordes of wild monsters. Gangs of dangerous humans that will shoot you as quickly as they’d say hello.”
“Well… I mean, they’re not wrong,” Reyes mutters, and Cameron grunts his agreement .
“They’re also provided for in exchange for their labor. The military assigns them jobs based on their aptitudes, and they are given living quarters and rations.”
“So, they’re basically military themselves?”
I shrug, seesawing my hand in front of me. “More like the military’s minions to keep from wasting manpower on the trivial day-to-day activities.” I realize we’re getting off course, so I focus on Reyes again. “These soldiers claimed they grabbed these people… these mates , from Atlanta?”
“Yes, and they mentioned their destination, but it’s somewhere I’ve never heard of… some base called Ljómur.”
My brows slam together, and both of them notice. “Does that mean something to you, Ro?”
“At my rank, I know of all the military installments around the world, especially those on this continent. Hell, I’ve been to pretty much all of them, but I’ve never once heard of that one. The word, though… the word is from our language. It means ‘glow.’”
“Well, that’s not concerning in the least,” Cameron mumbles, glancing at my palm at the same time I do.
“More came after that set of prisoners?” I ask Reyes, and he nods.
“Numbers varied, and I heard a few different cities mentioned—Montgomery, a few times, and Columbia once—but it was usually Atlanta. This place became an official pitstop for their convoys, and it was the same every time. Paired monsters and humans, glowing marks, and transport vans. It became frequent enough that others learned to stay away from this place, so I guess that’s the one positive. Raiders stopped coming, aside from one-off visitors that were probably just passing through.”
“So we aren’t the first mates,” Cameron murmurs, worry creasing his face as he meets my eyes.
I reach for him, my fingers weaving through his hair and tugging him closer as I press a kiss against his lips. “That doesn’t matter,” I whisper as he sighs, scooting his chair closer so he can rest his head against my chest. My arm wraps around his shoulders, breathing in his familiar smell. “All that matters is that you’re safe and we’re together.”
He nods, his cheek mussing against my shirt, before he glances at Reyes. “How many sets of mates do you think you’ve seen pass through?”
“I… I like to keep records… write things down. Written history is pretty much gone, you know? So I take notes.” Reyes’s face turns hard as he stares down at the table, anxious hands fidgeting over Boomerang’s fur. “Seventy-six,” he whispers.
“Seventy-six people?” I ask, anger causing my voice to rise just on this side of a shout.
“No,” he says with a sad laugh, shaking his head. “Seventy-six couples.”
Silence descends among us, suffocatingly heavy. Grief gnaws at my insides for those mates who had found this sense of rightness… this sense of being complete, only to have it taken from them.
Let them come for me, I think. Let them see the world turn to ashes if they try to take what is mine.
“Ro?” Cameron whispers, and the sound of splintering wood cracks through the quiet as the edge of the table snaps underneath my hand. My eyes close as I fight to slow my rapid breathing.
“This changes everything,” I finally say when I’ve gotten myself under control. “We were going to stay longer, maybe a few weeks while we got a plan in place, but the risk of these convoys showing up is too great.”
“Where will you go?” Reyes asks, and I hesitate to answer as I stare at him.
“I trust him,” Cameron says, voice quiet. “I don’t trust anyone, but I believe he’s telling the truth. Coming from someone who spent years with no one in my corner, let’s call it instinct. He isn’t out to hurt us, Ronan.”
Reyes’s dark eyes stay on mine, and finally, I give a quick nod, hoping I’m making the right choice. Cameron gives him a quick rundown of our plans. He keeps it vague enough to satisfy my paranoia, only sharing that we’re searching for a hidden, abandoned village to the northeast that my platoon raided years ago.
“What about me?” Reyes finally asks, gesturing at his bound feet. “If you let me loose, I’ll return to my hidden room, and you won’t see me again. Take whatever you want and leave whenever you’re ready.”
Cameron frowns, bottom lip pinching between his teeth. “Now I feel really guilty for stealing your stuff.”
“Don’t,” Reyes insists, his hand landing on Cameron’s arm before a warning growl erupts from my throat, making him jump back.
“Down, boy,” Cameron says, weaving his fingers through mine.
Reyes is nervous again as he meets my gaze. “ Mine ,” I mouth to him, baring my fangs, and he gulps before offering Cameron a strained smile .
“Don’t feel bad about taking supplies. There’s more here than I could ever use, and the idea of it helping to rebuild a peaceful community like this one used to be… well. It makes me happy.”
I squint my eyes at the man. “You’re just trying to convince me to set you free.”
“Is it working?”
Cameron squeezes my hand, and I tell myself not to look. That he’s going to have those big, pouty eyes fluttering at me from underneath his glasses, probably with that pink lip pushed out, too.
My eyes dart over.
Goddamn it.
My only response is a sigh as Cameron leans forward and presses a kiss on my jaw, just below my ear. “Thank you, mo’sziv,” he whispers, and while his pronunciation is imperfect, the gesture tears right through my defenses and lodges straight in my heart. One side of his smile lifts as he watches my reaction, worrying his lip in that endearing way he does when he’s nervous.
So many words dance on the tip of my tongue, so many aching, bone-deep emotions that rob me of my ability to breathe. But it’s not the time or place, and certainly not the audience for it. Instead, I pull him closer, taking my time as I kiss him in a way I hope communicates enough to ease his worry.
Surely, by now, he must realize the depth of my adoration… the reverence in which I view him. How do you explain to a man that you worship the very ground he walks on? How do you possibly communicate that level of devotion ?
“I’m going to cut him free now,” he whispers against my lips, and I sigh, nodding as I cave. He could ask me for anything, and I’d give it to him.
He could ask for the stars on a string, and I’d scale the heavens to rope them.
Even if I complained the whole time.