Chapter 33
Grim
I pull up next to Drake’s black SUV. The clearing is just as remote as I remember it, surrounded by thick jungle.
Drake is already out of his vehicle, pacing back and forth. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, his shoulders tight with tension.
The moment he spots us, relief washes over his face. It’s gone in a second, replaced by his usual controlled expression, but I caught it.
I climb out, and Wren follows suit. The afternoon heat hits me. It’s so fucking humid at this time of day.
“How are you holding up?” Drake asks, his eyes moving between us.
“As well as can be expected,” I tell him.
“Before we start, your dogs are fine and with your neighbor. Harlow and I will take them if need be. I gave them my number. Peanut and Butter are really cute, by the way.” He gives Wren a quick smile.
“Thank you.” She clutches her chest, nodding.
“I went to see your mother,” he tells me. “She has no idea what is going on. The staff are doing everything to ensure it stays that way. I will go and see her again myself, if need be. She is in good hands. They will inform her if anything happens that warrants mentioning.”
Such as my death.
We look at each other for a few moments.
“Thanks,” I say. Then I ask, “Were you able to gain access to the Vaccination Center?”
Drake’s jaw tightens. He shakes his head. “I wasn’t able to get within a mile of the place. It’s locked down tight and crawling with Mainland Security.” His eyes narrow. “They’re not letting anyone in or out without authorization.”
Fuck.
“All homes are being systematically searched,” Drake continues, his voice grave. “The searches will intensify in the coming days. They’re going door to door, block by block. Leaving no stone unturned.”
I think of Falkor, of how close we came to being discovered. My hands clench into fists at my sides.
I nod.
“Draig Security has set up various checkpoints looking for anything suspicious,” Drake adds. “I half expected you to be caught on your way here.”
“We passed more than one security vehicle,” I tell him. “But we weren’t pulled over, and there were no checkpoints.”
“You got lucky,” Drake says, pulling something from his pocket. “I’ve been trying to get information on planned checkpoints, but so far, I haven’t been given the details. They’re keeping things close to the vest. Even from members of the Council.”
He hands me a cellphone. It’s a basic model, nothing fancy.
“It’s a burner,” he explains. “I bought one for myself, as well. My burner’s number is already loaded in the contacts.
It’s the only one there. We’re going to communicate via these phones going forward.
Don’t use it unless absolutely necessary.
That way, you don’t have to travel anymore.
Keep movement to a minimum, or you’ll risk getting caught. ”
I turn the device over in my hand. The plastic is cheap, the screen small. But it’s a lifeline. Our only secure way to communicate.
“How is Sally doing?” Wren asks, her voice small. Hopeful.
Drake rubs the back of his neck, and I see the concern written all over his face.
“Is she okay?” I ask, my stomach dropping.
“She’s hanging in there,” Drake says carefully. “Her situation is still dire, and her prognosis is still guarded, but every day she lives gives us more hope of her making a full recovery.”
Wren snorts, the sound bitter. “More chance of them murdering her to keep her quiet, you mean. We have to do something.”
“Not yet,” Drake says firmly. “You still have time.”
I put a hand on Wren’s shoulder, feeling the tension thrumming through her body.
“Drake is right. We have time. If we’re forced to act before we’re ready, we will. But for now, we need to be smart about this.”
Wren nods, but I can see the frustration in her eyes. I feel it too.
“I worry, that’s all.”
“I know you do,” I say. “It’s understandable.”
Drake looks between us. “There’s one more thing you should know.
The media coverage is getting worse. They’re painting you as a monster, Grim.
They’ve got ‘experts’ analyzing your supposed mental state.
Claiming you snapped under pressure. They’re saying that you will only get worse.
That soon, you will snap and shift…that you’ll go on a killing spree.
They have the community running scared. People are keeping their children home from school. ”
My jaw clenches so hard it aches. “Let them say what they want. We’ll expose the truth soon enough.”
I hope I’m right.
“I hope so,” Drake says, mirroring my thoughts. “Because right now, the entire island thinks you’re a mass murderer. They think you killed Wren and Ethan. That you put Sally in the hospital, fighting for her life.”
Wren makes a soft noise beside me.
“There’s something else,” Drake continues. “They’re offering a reward. A substantial one. For information leading to your capture.”
Of course they are.
“How much?” I ask.
“Fifty thousand dollars. I have a feeling that it’s going to go up before long. They’re desperate to get their hands on you.”
Wren gasps. “That’s… That’s a lot of money.”
“It is,” Drake agrees. “Which means you need to be even more careful. People will be looking for you. Actively searching. The temptation will be too great for some to resist.”
I think of Falkor again. Of his kindness. His immediate belief in me. Would he turn us in for that kind of money?
No, he wouldn’t.
There is no doubt in my mind. But I worry about his safety.
“We’ll be careful,” I tell Drake.
He nods, then pulls out a small envelope from his jacket. “There’s some cash in here. Not much, but it should help if you need to buy supplies. Don’t use any cards. Don’t leave a digital trail.”
I take the envelope. “Thanks. I’ll pay you back.”
“Wren, you’re officially listed as deceased, but if they realize you’re alive and with Grim, they’ll claim you’re his accomplice. That you helped him, and that you’re dangerous.”
I have to resist the urge to put my arm around her. To roar at an enemy that isn’t here right now.
Fucking bastards!
I knew it.
Wren swallows hard. “I understand.”
“Be smart,” Drake says. “Stay hidden. Don’t do anything that draws attention. And keep an eye on that burner phone. I’ll let you know about checkpoints as soon as I hear. They should be announcing the schedule soon. Hopefully, before you make it back to town, if that’s where you’re headed.”
I slip the phone into my pocket. “We will be careful. Thank you for everything.”
Drake moves toward his SUV, then stops and turns back. “I won’t be able to help you if you’re caught.”
“I know,” I tell him. “I’m not asking you to stick your neck out for me any more than you already have. I’m grateful. You’re a good friend.”
“Just…be careful,” Drake says. “Both of you.” He glances at Wren.
“We will,” Wren says, her voice stronger now. “We’re going to get that cellphone back. We’re going to expose the truth. And we’re going to clear Grim’s name. We’ll take care of each other.”
Drake gives her a small smile. “I believe you will. You’re both stronger than you think.”
He climbs into his truck and starts the engine. We watch as he backs up, turns around, and drives away, dust kicking up behind his tires.
When the sound of his engine fades completely, I turn to Wren. She’s staring after him, her expression troubled.
“We need to get back,” I tell her, handing her the cellphone. “Keep an eye on that. We need to avoid those checkpoints.”
She nods.
“The noose is tightening around us. We’re running out of time,” she says in a small voice.
“We’re going to be okay,” I tell her, even though I’m not sure I believe it.
I put my arm around her shoulders and guide her to the car.
I snort. “I’m not sure how we made it here in Falkor’s old car.”
She laughs, and it comes out a little shrill. “You’re right, but then again, older vehicles are built to last.”
I climb into the driver’s seat of Falkor’s car.
It’s a light blue 1995 Toyota Camry that’s still running well.
I suspect that the elderly male has looked after it.
The beige exterior has faded to something closer to cream, and there’s a dent in the rear bumper, but the engine purrs like it was built yesterday.
The interior smells like old leather and air freshener; the seats are worn but comfortable.
“This thing is ancient,” I mutter as I climb behind the wheel.
“Ancient but reliable,” Wren says, buckling herself in. “Like Falkor himself. It’s also really spacious.”
I grunt in agreement and pull out of the clearing, heading back the way we came. The narrow dirt road is barely wide enough for the Camry. I have to drive a little slower than I would in my own vehicle.
Wren keeps the burner phone in her lap, her eyes fixed on the screen.
“Anything?” I ask.
“Not yet.”
We drive in silence for a while.
The jungle starts to thin out as we get closer to civilization. Houses begin to appear through the trees, scattered at first, then closer together. We keep going, getting closer to the city. We’re maybe five minutes from Falkor’s neighborhood when the phone buzzes.
Wren opens the message, concentrating on the screen.
“What is it?” I ask, trying to keep my eyes on the road while watching her face.
“It’s the checkpoint locations,” she says, her voice tight. “I’m just making sure…”
Then her face goes pale.
“What is it?”
“Crap,” she whispers. “There’s one right up ahead.”
“Shit.” I look for somewhere to turn, but there are no side streets.
My dragon surges inside me, but I shove him down hard.
Not now. Not fucking now.
I slow down, still not seeing a side street. There are none that I remember.
Fuck it.
I check my mirrors, wait for a gap in traffic, then crank the wheel hard. The Camry’s tires squeal as I pull a U-turn, heading back the way we came.
I glance in my rearview mirror and see a Draig Security vehicle pull out from behind a parked car. It does a U-turn as well.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
No!
Maybe it’s not coming after us. I keep driving, pressing the accelerator just a touch, sure to stay within the speed limit.
Crap!
Their lights flash on, bright red and blue against the afternoon sun.
I groan.
“What is it?” Wren asks, seeing me look in the rearview mirror, she turns, looking back.
Her breathing gets rapid and shallow. “Are they coming after us?”
I nod.
I keep going, pretending the vehicle isn’t coming after us.
“What are we going to do?” she asks, clearly panicking a little.
“I’m thinking.”
Then something shifts in her expression. Her jaw sets, her eyes sharpen.
“Accelerate,” she orders. “Now!”
I press the gas pedal, the old Camry surging forward. I’m still careful not to go too fast, or they’ll think we’re making a run for it.
The security vehicle speeds up too, still a little way behind us.
“There’s a street coming up on the right,” Wren says, her voice steady now, despite the fear in her eyes. “Take it. Fast. Then pull over immediately.”
“What? Why would I—?”
“Trust me!” She’s already unbuckling her seatbelt. “As soon as you stop, get in the back. You need to hide on the floor. I’ll get in behind the wheel.”
“Wren, that’s insane. They’ll—”
“Trust me, Grim!” Her voice cracks with urgency. “Please. We don’t have time to argue. I have a plan. I hope it works.”
The street appears ahead on the right. She’s right; I don’t have time to argue. I have to trust she knows what she’s doing.
I make the turn fast, tires squealing again. The moment we’re out of sight of the main road, I slam on the brakes and throw the car into park.
“Go!” Wren shouts. “Now!”
I’m already moving, throwing open my door and scrambling out. Wren slides across the center console into the driver’s seat as I yank open the back door and dive inside.
“Get on the floor,” she hisses.
I wedge myself into the narrow space, my body too big for it. My shoulders press against both front seats. My legs are cramped, knees drawn up almost to my chest. Thank fuck this older vehicle is so spacious, or I would never have fit.
“There’s a blanket,” Wren says, her hands already on the wheel. “Cover yourself. All of you. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.”
I start to protest, to tell her this won’t work, that they’ll search the car and find me immediately.
“Just do it,” she says, her voice is urgent. “Trust me.”
Something in her tone makes me shut my mouth. I reach up and grab the blanket from the back seat and pull it over myself.
I hear rustling above me. Fabric moving. Wren doing something I can’t see.
I break out in an instant sweat. My heart is going nuts. My dragon is screaming at me to shift, to fight, to protect her. I force him down again, holding my breath as I hear a car door slam outside.
Footsteps approach.
This is it!
“Hello, officer.” Wren’s voice is bright and friendly, with just a touch of breathlessness.
I hold perfectly still under the blanket, every muscle tense. There’s no way they won’t see me. No way this works. If he even glances in the back, I’m toast.
I work at keeping my breathing even.
At the same time, I prepare to fight.