Chapter 24 #2
I follow the trail toward the western cliffs until distant voices drift through the trees.
"There!"
"No, over there!"
"Spread out!"
I immediately drop into the undergrowth and peer through the foliage. At least ten men sweep the area with flashlights, their rifles raised as they move methodically between the trees. They're searching too carefully to have given up.
Then I see her. Zora is wedged between two massive rocks beneath a curtain of tangled vines, one hand clamped over her mouth while the other grips her swollen ankle. Even from where I am, I can tell she can barely put weight on it. She's trapped.
I stay perfectly still, waiting as one patrol passes, then another. Only when their lights finally disappear deeper into the jungle do I slip silently through the brush until I'm crouching beside her.
The moment she senses movement, she spins toward me in alarm. But I catch her before she can make a sound, pressing a hand gently but firmly over her mouth.
Her eyes widen the instant she recognizes me. The fear that had tightened every muscle in her body melts into unmistakable relief, and for a brief moment she simply stares at me as though convincing herself I'm actually here.
I lower my hand.
"You came back." She whispers.
I raise an eyebrow. "You sound surprised."
A faint, exhausted smile touches her lips before disappearing. "I kept telling myself you would. But…" She looks away for a second. "I wasn't entirely sure."
Something twists uncomfortably in my chest. I can't fault her for doubting me. We've spent more time trying to outsmart each other than trusting each other, and yet hearing the uncertainty in her voice still lands harder than I expect.
I glance toward the flashlights weaving through the trees. "We'll discuss my reliability after we get off this island."
She nods.
We remain hidden until the last beam of light disappears into the darkness. Only then do I help her out from between the rocks. The moment her injured foot touches the ground, her ankle gives out beneath her. She stumbles with a sharp gasp, and I catch her before she can fall.
"I'm fine." She says quickly.
I glance at her swollen ankle. "No, you're not."
"I can walk."
"You can limp."
"I'll manage."
I hold her gaze for a moment before turning around and crouching with my back toward her. "Get on."
She blinks. "Nico..."
"Get on."
"I don't need you carrying me."
"You won't make it through the jungle like that."
"I'll slow you down."
"You already are."
Silence follows. I can practically feel the glare she's directing at the back of my head.
"I really don't like you sometimes."
"So I've noticed."
She remains stubbornly still for several more seconds before finally letting out a quiet, defeated sigh. A moment later, I feel her arms slide around my shoulders as I lift her onto my back and continue into the darkness.
Eventually, she breaks the silence.
"Thank you."
I don't look back. "Save it."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
She falls quiet for a few more steps before speaking again. "I know who you are."
My steps falter.
"I know you were the one who took Aurelia."
I stop walking altogether.
For a long moment, I simply stand there with her on my back. The jungle around us fades into the background as her words echo through my mind.
Slowly, I turn my head just enough to look at her over my shoulder. "How long?"
"Since Ireland."
My jaw tightens.
"I saw the mask that night." She says softly.
"You've known all this time?"
"Yes."
"And you never said a word."
"No."
I search her face for any sign that she's bluffing. I don't find one.
"So why keep quiet?" I ask. "You had opportunities. You could've told Keith."
"I could have."
"You still can."
She doesn't answer immediately. Instead, her gaze drifts toward the darkness between the trees, her expression thoughtful rather than conflicted.
"Keith loves Aurelia more than anyone else in this world." She says at last. "If I told him what I know, he wouldn't stop to ask why you did it. He wouldn't care what happened afterward."
She pauses, then looks back at me again. "He'd only see the man who stole the woman he loves."
"And?"
She studies me for another long moment. "And I'm still trying to decide whether that's the whole story."
The words settle somewhere deep inside me. Without another word, I turn back toward the path ahead and continue walking. But her confession lingers in my mind long after the conversation ends.
I keep walking through the jungle, adjusting my grip beneath her legs whenever the uneven ground threatens to throw us off balance, but my mind is no longer on the terrain.
It's on Keith Krogen. On the man the criminal underworld whispers about with equal parts fear and respect. The Butcher. A man who had burned through organizations, crossed continents, and left bodies in his wake without hesitation, all because someone had dared to take the woman he loved.
I know exactly what Keith would do if he ever discovered I had been the one behind Aurelia's kidnapping. He wouldn't ask for explanations. He wouldn't care about motives. He would come for me, and he wouldn't stop until one of us was dead.
What I don't understand is Zora. She has known for months. She has had every opportunity to expose me, to warn Keith, yet she has chosen silence instead. I can't decide whether that makes her reckless, compassionate, or far more dangerous than I'd given her credit for.
"You've been quiet." Zora says softly from behind me.
"I usually am."
"No." There's a hint of amusement in her voice despite everything we've survived. "Usually you're thinking of something sarcastic."
"I was giving you a break."
"How generous."
I don't bother responding.
After a few more steps, she speaks again. "I've unsettled you."
"I wouldn't flatter yourself."
"You haven't insulted me for almost five minutes."
I glance back at her briefly. "You're counting?"
"I always count."
A reluctant smile threatens to surface before I bury it. "That sounds exhausting."
"It is."
For a while, neither of us says anything else. The conversation fades as naturally as it began, leaving only the sound of my footsteps through the jungle and the weight of everything she had just confessed lingering between us.
By the time I decide we've put enough distance between ourselves and the patrols, the jungle is completely concealed from the moonlight.
We climb the last stretch of rocky ground before emerging beneath a narrow overhang concealed by thick vines.
It isn't much more than a ledge carved into the cliffside, but from below it's nearly invisible, making it the best hiding place we've found since the crash.
"It'll do." I say as I help Zora lower herself onto the stone.
The moment she puts weight on her injured foot, she winces.
But before she can insist she's fine again, I crouch in front of her and carefully roll the fabric of her trouser leg above the swelling.
The ankle has already begun to darken, though thankfully nothing feels broken beneath my fingers.
Tearing several strips from my shirt, I begin wrapping the joint with practiced movements.
"You've done this before." She says quietly.
"A few times."
She smiles to herself, and shifts against the rock to get more comfortable. As she does, her balance slips slightly. Instinctively, she reaches out, but instead of catching herself against the stone, her palm lands flat against my chest.
Neither of us moves.
My hand remains around her ankle, forgotten.
Her fingers curl lightly against my shirt, and all at once the world seems to shrink until there is nothing beyond the two of us.
The jungle, the men hunting us, the revenge I'd spent months building my life around, it all fades into the background.
The only thing I can hear is the quiet rhythm of her breathing.
Slowly, I lift my head. She's already looking at me. There isn't a trace of sarcasm in her expression anymore. No challenge. No attempt to provoke me. Only uncertainty, curiosity... and something neither of us is brave enough to name.
My eyes drift to her lips before returning to hers.
"So..." She whispers.
"So."
Neither of us finishes the sentence. Instead, I find myself leaning closer without ever making the conscious decision to do it.
The distance between us disappears inch by inch until I can feel her breath against my face.
Every instinct I possess tells me to stop.
She is Marcus's daughter. She is engaged.
She is the last person I should be looking at this way.
"You're crossing a line." She murmurs, though the words lack any real conviction.
I don't look away. "Then stop me."
For a long moment, she simply holds my gaze.
I watch the conflict flicker across her face before slowly giving way to quiet surrender.
Her hand, still resting against my chest, tightens ever so slightly in the fabric of my shirt, but she doesn't push me away.
Instead, she closes the last fraction of the distance between us, her eyes slipping shut just before our foreheads almost brush.
And our lips meet.
The kiss is slow. Careful. Hesitant enough to feel like a question rather than an answer, as though we're both waiting for the other to pull away. Neither of us does.