SAWYER
No more punches are thrown, but a tension pulses between Angel and me.
Every grind of boot to snow sounds louder than it should, and though we walk for too long without words passing, the grinding never settles in a rhythm.
It’s a tap tap tap against the eardrum, without a single chirp of a bird or scattering of an animal to distract from the sound of two men with nothing to say.
I blow out a deep breath that doesn’t turn white. It’s getting warmer, subtle but certain. We’re walking too fast—heading God knows how far off course. Well, approximately three thousand nine hundred eighty-eight feet.
Still, I follow Angel as he traipses downhill.
It’s not terrible thinking, given the obvious elevation difference from the Shadow Sanctum, but every step is more dangerous than the last. Angel knows this.
I’d be shocked if he didn’t have his own count ticking in his head; he isn’t stupid, but he absolutely would die before being the first to speak.
“Not that I’m questioning your judgment,” I say, hands securely tucked in my pocket as I try to close the six or so feet between us. “But should we stop a minute? Figure out where the fuck we are before we let pride blow our heads off?”
“The drive was uphill.”
“Yes, but…” Hours and hours of hopelessly searching for my father’s truck on the infamous hunting trip play out in my mind, and I know Angel knows it. It’s an elephant he’d never bring up, but I’m sure at least part of him is enjoying this. “This is going to be harder than you think.”
“Well, I have a better sense of direction than a nine-year-old. But by all means, fall back. I’m sure you could find a nice tree to slither up, if the bears don’t get you first.”
I nearly trip over my own feet. “Oh, so we are going to poke that bruise.”
“I’m told they can smell the stench of fear from a mile away. Of course, even the armadillos in Texas can hear your chattering teeth.”
I clench my jaw and force my count to fade. Only to pick it up again a moment later when my heart slams against my ribs.
“So this is a punishment, then.” I give a curt nod, though the bastard isn’t looking at me. “How very like you to kill us both just to make yourself superior.”
“Worse things have happened than the death of two human traffickers.”
Two human traffickers.
“Look who’s developed a conscience. It must be difficult finding little old ladies with mom-and-pops to bankrupt, with your head so far up your ass.”
“I was never that cruel.”
An incredulous laugh skitters past my lips. “Susan Higgins and her handmade quilts. She called you arrogant once, and that was because you—”
“I rectified that, and you know it. She retired in a Florida condo with enough money to die comfortably twice.”
“After a month of me prying at your sense of honor. Because God knows there’s no space in that giant head of yours for mercy.”
“Hell truly has frozen over if Sawyer Hempton is admitting to manipulating me.”
“Every day I wonder when the authorities will know that name.”
Angel stops long enough to turn his head with a glare. I march past him without a word—because apparently, I, too, am willing to die for my pride.
No. I’m not.
I stop.
But don’t face him.
“I would never stoop that low,” he says with contempt that loosens a knot in my gut. “Your crimes are my crimes, and I’m not so self-sacrificing as to turn myself in.”
“And of course, if they caught me, I would rat you out in a second.”
I expect Angel to laugh; wait for another tongue-lashing. But instead, for a count of three, I get silence.
“You wouldn’t.” Certainty. Angel is incapable of speaking without it, but for once, I like the way he never questions his judgement.
It’s easy to take what he says as fact. “You’re a manipulative snake, but you’re not a coward…
Don’t think I don’t know that you could’ve made me take the fall.
My name is on that island just as much as yours, and I know you.
You had contingencies. You chose not to use them. ”
My eyes close for a moment. Only a moment. But Angel hears the hesitation, because it’s true—he knows me. As much as I’ve lied, as much as I’ve tinkered with his psyche over the years, I am myself with no one except him.
With Angel, I am me.
With Luna…
Don’t finish that thought.
I turn with what I hope is an olive branch in my expression but is probably more like resolve.
“Every step we take only brings us further into the unknown… The clearing is point A. The compound is point B. If we put aside our bullshit for a minute, we can figure out the line between them and go from there… I promise, our pride can withstand being wrong.”
No response, but I can feel his reluctance. He decided a year ago I was his enemy, and Angel is not quick to change his mind.
“I want to get out of here alive, just like you.”
Angel looks down at his boot and nudges the snow as if he stepped on something foul. He looks at his watchless wrist, a habit he hasn’t shaken. He used to do that in meetings when he was considering someone’s offer. It usually meant he was going to take it.
He sighs, lowering his arm. “How do we figure out the line?”
Cold air nips my lungs as I fill them to the brim. My chin falls a centimeter when they empty.
Great question.
“Okay…” I nod as my mind churns. “First things first: let’s rule out the paths we shouldn’t take.”
“Up,” Angel offers like a smartass.
My lips twitch, but he still looks stone cold, so I don’t comment.
“There’s a town south of the compound.” I try to picture the outskirts, any identifying detail in case we get too close.
All I catalogued was the path from the rundown barn to the Shadow Sanctum.
“We’ll have to be certain we don’t miss the compound, otherwise we’ll run right into it. ”
Or far more likely, be blown up in the process.
I wave to my left in the general direction of where the four-wheelers left. “I don’t know how far back the road is, but it’s definitely off limits.”
“‘Kay. So we should veer right and down.”
Right and down. What is ‘right and down’?
We don’t even know what direction we’re facing.
My attention moves to the expanse of pine and hemlock surrounding us, their branches heavy with snow. Walking a little farther to my right, I dart my eyes around, breathing in the wintery scent, noting one hemlock after another. There’s not a maple in sight.
Twenty miles uphill, at least.
Angel wanders close as I circle a tree, studying the moss growing thick on one side.
It stretches East, of course, but… That’s too general.
It could differ by too many degrees. I turn my attention to the ground.
The slope of the terrain rises, rocky underfoot, hinting at a higher elevation looming to the northeast. But this is Luna’s game, and she has taught me well to question my judgment.
I crouch and brush away snow to expose the soil beneath. Sifting through the dirt, I squint up at the cloud-streaked sky. The wind has picked up, whipping through the trees, and I can feel the change in the atmosphere. The humidity is thickening.
There’s a storm coming.
We won’t have the sun soon.
I grip a stick and run my thumb along the rough bark before walking to a rare plot of shiny snow free of the trees. I drive it into the dirt and trail my finger along the edge of its thin shadow, marking it in the snow.
Then, I start my count.
Angel makes an impatient sound behind me. “What are you doing?”
“Figuring out which way is north.”
“That way." Angel points up the hill. “Moss grows on the east side of a tree. You already saw that.”
I shake my head but don’t pause my counting to respond.
“Sawyer, it’s gonna rain. We need to get moving.”
I hold up a finger. I just need ten minutes tops.
I glance up at the sky, then back at the stick. A slow inhale. A slow exhale. The wind cuts through my jacket, but I stay still. The shadow moves, just slightly. Not enough.
Angel exhales sharply. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
“Luna said no one has ever survived this challenge. There’s a reason why… Just trust me.”
I crouch, watching the shadow intently as I count. When I get to six hundred seconds, I mark the shadow once more, line my feet up at both ends, and close my eyes against the chill that whips through me.
That woman is such a clever little bitch.
“In dense forests with consistent shade, moss tends to grow more on the north side because it gets the least sunlight.” A strange smile tugs at my lips.
For about half a second, I stop being mad at her.
I turn myself about seventy degrees and jab a finger toward the opposite direction of where we were heading. Uphill and toward the road. We’re gonna have to cross it, go over the hill, and we should find the Shadow Sanctum somewhere on the other side. “It’s that way.”