Chapter Twelve
JAQ
When we left to head down to the docks this morning, we didn’t anticipate the scavengers of the island to flock to our side and try and take our prize for themselves.
They might not have gone against us the night Cinder arrived, but these fuckers are ruthless and won’t stop.
They have been here for years and like us, they were deprived of the touch of women and are hungry for it.
When we reached the dock and saw it was another female, The Huntsmen claimed her, bared their teeth in warning at the rest of us and took off.
It’s clear, they knew who the girl was and would fight to the death if someone tried to take her from them.
I used the opportunity to scout the dock and work out the logistics without being caught by any of the others. This place is off limits unless the boat is docked. I mapped out the cameras. I know where they are and if my calculation is right, I have their blind spots.
Duke was the first to spot the scavengers as we neared the cabin, moving through the eastern tree line with the particular careless confidence of men who believe no one is watching.
Gus went cold and still in the way that means he's already three moves ahead of whatever's coming.
I felt the adrenaline hit my bloodstream like a fist.
“She's in the cabin,” I hiss.
“I know.” Gus doesn't look at me. His eyes stay fixed on the tree line.
“If they breach the boundary while she's in there—”
“I know.” His voice is ice, but his jaw is tight.
We should have warned her that others may come looking for her while we were at the docks.
We made a calculated decision not to, as information is leverage on this island and we don't hand it to a woman we still aren't certain we can trust, regardless of how well she's learned to read every one of us in the dark.
That decision is sitting differently now as I watch two of the cunts break from the trees and move toward the east side.
Gus is already moving.
“Take the south approach,” he says to Duke. “Jaq, circle the well. Don't let them reach the kitchen entrance.”
I run.
I come around the south corner of the cabin at full speed and pull up short because she is already outside.
Not hiding. Not frozen. Running and running toward the scavengers with the singular, furious focus of a woman who has made a decision and committed to it entirely. She has something in her hand. A length of chain. The one from the field that she clearly pulled free from its stake on her way out.
I stare at her for half a second in complete disbelief.
The nearest fucker catches sight of her the same moment I do and they change direction. She doesn't slow. She swings the chain in a wide arc and catches him across the forearm with enough force that his shout carries back to the cabin.
What the actual fuck.
I launch forward.
The second fucker reaches her before I do and grabs her from behind, lifting her clean off the ground.
She drives her elbow back into his ribs and twists.
The move is unpracticed but vicious and she gets one arm free.
I close the last ten feet and my fist connects with the side of the cunt's head before he can recover his hold.
He drops. She staggers, spins and the look on her face when she sees me is not relief.
It's fury.
“There are four of them,” she snaps, breathless, hair wild. “Two more by the eastern wall.”
“I know.”
“You know?” Her eyes go wide.
“Go back inside.” I grip her arm and she yanks it free.
“No.”
The eastern wall produces a sound I know, the grunt of someone being hit very hard, once and then Gus’s voice cuts through the noise with the flat, final quality of a man who finds violence profoundly boring.
“Done.” He rounds the corner with Duke two steps behind. His eyes find her. Then the chain in her hand. Then the scout on the ground at her feet.
The silence stretches.
She lifts her chin and meets his gaze without a single flicker of apology.
Something moves through his eyes that he immediately buries.
“Inside,” he says.
“I took him down,” she sneers.
“We handled it.”
“I handled one of them.”
“With a chain you stole from my field.”
She stares at him. “Your field.”
Duke makes a sound beside me that he converts immediately into a cough.
“Inside,” Gus says it again and this time there is something underneath the command that is not quite anger. She holds his gaze for another three full seconds—two more than most men on this island manage—-then drops the chain, turns, and walks back through the kitchen door without another word.
The three of us stand in the yard.
“She went for them,” Duke says quietly.
“I saw.”
“She didn't run.”
I look at the chain on the ground. At the fucker still not moving. At the kitchen door swinging shut behind her.
“No,” I say. “She didn't.”
She had the chance to use this as a distraction and try to escape. The collar wouldn’t have allowed her to get far but she didn’t even try. She chose to stand and fight alongside us. She’s fucking with my head.
No good can come of me feeling anything other than hatred for Cinder Charming, she ruined our lives.