SALT
Still, I am not letting myself be knocked off the path of revenge. Senu, when he had to choose between our misery and sacrifice, chose sacrifice. I owe him that. I will not bend, I will not let myself be led astray, even if I were to fall for a thousand alphas.
Not even Eliano could pull me back from it, though he probably came the closest.
I take only the bare essentials with me. The cash I still have from prison, because I had money on me when they arrested me, goes into a plastic bag. I also grab a shopping bag to stuff my clothes into.
Eliano is lying there, limp and helpless. I bend over him, fast asleep, press my lips gently to his forehead, then his cheek, and finally his mouth, and I whisper,
"I’m sorry, but our paths have to split forever. Forgive me."
That traitorous wetness gathers under my eyelids. It’s true, this island, this relationship, has changed something in me, just not enough to make me stay.
Honor means everything to me.
I leave the unit, dropping the card on the ground outside the back door of the building.
Moving quickly up the slope, I follow the route I know so well. Fifteen minutes later, I am on the hill, climbing over the fence, then heading down the rocky path toward the beach.
As I walk, I am in this strange kind of high, like determination has flooded every corner of my brain, shutting me off from the voice of reason whispering in the back of my head that everything Eliano said made damn good sense.
But I kick that voice out of my mind, because the hunger for revenge has woken up inside me again. Yeah, it was dulled by the last few days I spent floating in the pink haze of orgasms Eliano gave me.
Not anymore. I’m pretty sure my heat has ended. My body feels weird, slightly heavy and unwilling to move. It’s probably not a good idea to make decisions while in the famous, dreaded Heat Recovery, but it’s too late to change my mind.
After all, I have always told myself that what I had here was only an illusion, just a brief moment, a stop along my road. I am not turning back now to regret it, especially when life has already given me more than Senu ever got.
Still, Eliano’s words keep echoing in my head, about wanting to give me love, about wanting my love in return.
Yeah. Romantic. Sweet.
But that’s not in the cards, not for me.
To remind myself of that, to hammer it in, I slap my own cheeks a few times, hard enough to sting. It works.
The pain snaps me back, reinforcing that whatever I had with Eliano was just a pause along the way. Nothing more.
Shut the fuck up, you stupid heart.
I am not one of those people who grew up on romance movies and love stories, believing in fairytale endings. The world is too ugly for that. Those things belong in fiction, not in real life.
What I cannot understand is why, the farther I get from Sector C, the tighter something grips my stomach, a strange urge arises. But I do not allow myself even a second of weakness. I don’t slow down. I finally reach the beach.
The ferry is not there yet, so I hide on a small rocky rise nearby.
Gloomy, angry, frustrated, I sit there, watching the water, still dark.
A quiet hope creeps in that maybe the ferry will not come, that maybe I will be forced to turn back and somehow everything will solve itself.
It does not happen. I figure it is around 5:15 when I spot the lights of the approaching ferry on the horizon.
At the same time, I hear a quad coming.
In the still gray light, barely touched by the first pale peach rays of morning, I cannot tell who is on it. There are several people riding it.
The ferry docks. I know this is the moment when I have to make my move.
I see a few people disembark, but I do not recognize anyone. I get a strange feeling that some of them might be cops, but there is no time to study them.
Keeping low along the line of concrete bollards, I move toward the beach, quickly strip off my clothes there, stuff them into the bag, tie it tight, and step into the water, which feels surprisingly cold.
I start swimming away from the shore so I can arc toward the ferry.
Mostly staying underwater, I swim very slowly and carefully, surfacing only slightly to grab a breath.
Because of this, it takes me a long time to get there.
At one point, when I emerge, I see that the people who had been talking on the beach are now heading toward the gangway leading onto the ferry.
I recognize Sidorov and… the tall figure of Drax.
Fuck! So they are leaving the island? That gives me pause.
Things could have gotten a lot more interesting here, but whatever, it is no longer my problem.
Eliano handled that job. He did the participants a real service, that much is clear.
I respect him for it, because he showed a kind of moral backbone I myself lacked.
I was focused only on my own tragedy, my own mission. I did not really care what was happening here. I felt for them, sure, but my goal was always revenge. I had blinders on, and he did not.
Poor Eliano. He wanted to escape a life in the criminal world, and he ended up with me. Maybe we really were a terrible match?
The thought is sharp and unpleasant, so I quickly push it away.
I finally manage to reach the side of the ferry, and I do it at the very last moment. I hear footsteps on deck. If anyone leaned out and looked over the side now, they could easily spot me. The last stretch, the final dozen or so feet, is critical.
With huge relief, I see thick ropes running along the hull, encrusted with shells and seaweed. I grab one and cling to it, pressing myself hard against the side of the ferry.
In this position, plastered to the hull, no one would notice me unless they leaned way out to look down.
For about ten minutes, nothing happens. I hear some rattling sounds, like someone wheeling something up the gangway, maybe a delivery.
Then suddenly I feel vibrations. The ferry’s engine starts, and the vessel begins to pull away toward the open sea.
My heart starts racing. I hope there are no sharks in these waters.
Clinging to the rope, I am dragged along the side of the ferry, which turns out to be a real challenge.
The water keeps slamming into my body, splashing up around the bow.
The ferry is not moving very fast, but the constant stream, forced along the hull, keeps pounding me.
I know that if I let go now, I could get sucked under the vessel and shredded by the propeller, so I hold on for dear life.
I remember the whole crossing is supposed to take an hour, so I grit my teeth and just endure it. My mind goes blank. In situations like this, you focus on staying alive. I lock my attention on my hands gripping the hard, slick ropes, and I do not loosen my hold.
Every minute feels like ten, but eventually even that unpleasant stretch of time comes to an end.
I spot the shoreline. What surprises me is that we are not heading toward the city port, Hallwell, we originally departed from. The ferry is going in a slightly different direction, farther to the right, toward a tiny harbor tucked into a wooded area. It almost looks like a private dock.
This is not good. It will be much harder for me to disappear from here. The port is basically just one small building, with a single road leading away from it and disappearing into the forest.
For fuck’s sake, I realize that from here to the city port is at least a two-mile trek through dense forest, and the swampy kind where alligators might be lurking.
The ferry stops about twenty feet from the dock. They lower the gangway, and people start getting off, heading toward the cars waiting.
I know I do not have much time. The ferry could move again any moment…
. Then a thought crosses my mind that maybe it will not return to the island this time and will head back to the city port instead.
But even though I wait, and everyone on board has long since disembarked, the ferry shuts down its engine and just sits there, tied up.
Shit. I did not plan for this.
I finally decide to let go of the rope and swim to shore. I come out of the water some distance from the port, near a few old overturned boats.
I crouch behind them and change into my clothes. As it turns out, some water got inside, but at least my pants are dry. And the money is safe.
The worst surprise, though, comes when I slip into the little strip of trees along the shore, trying to avoid the port buildings and reach the road.
I realize the road leading out is gravel, and it does not go left toward the city. It goes right, deeper and deeper into the forest. For fuck’s sake! Why?
What am I supposed to do now. Take that road and hope that after a few miles I hit some town? Or try to cut through the forest, betting that I will reach the city limits and the big port.
The forest here does not look quite as wet. Maybe I could force my way through it?
A bit unsure of myself, I start walking, because I am a city kid and I have never liked going off into the wild.
I walk and walk, trying to stay close to the beach, but after a while the beach disappears, breaking up into small spits of land jutting into the sea, turning into marshy, mangrove-filled terrain.
Damn! I curse under my breath nonstop. What now?
Turn back? Try the road after all, at least it is a safe gravel road.
Or keep pushing forward, since I have already covered close to a third of the distance, at least that is how it feels.
Unless I misjudged it from the water. Maybe it is four miles, not two.
Angry at myself and unable to decide, I stand there, staring first toward the marshes, then back toward the way I came, wondering what the hell to do.
And why the hell do I keep seeing Eliano’s face in front of me, draining every last bit of my determination to keep going?