Chapter 39
CHAPTER
THIRTY-NINE
ZIGGY
I’ve never run so hard in my life. I can’t tell if it’s sweat or rain running down my back, but I push harder, lungs burning, knowing I’m not meant for running, but I need to get home fast.
All I can hope is that my hunch is wrong, because the thought of someone being trapped alive?
My gut rolls over itself.
Maybe they’re a murderer, for all I know, but being boxed in, surrounded by nothing but darkness?
Shit.
My thighs burn as I jump from one boulder to the next, taking the most direct route up the hill. What if they’re injured? Or starving? Shit, even I’d be scared trapped like that.
The sight of my mine entrance brings relief and the motivation to move faster. I barrel inside, right up to the wall, and lungs struggling with my ragged breaths, I pound on the wood. No one answers.
“Hello?” My scratchy voice barely makes it past my lips. “Hello?”
Nothing. I hunch over my knees, forcing down oxygen and making my head spin. I’m wrong. I’m probably wrong.
I set my hand on the wall, trying to work out which way to go. Tear it all down and hope I find something? Or wait to see if anyone begs to be let out before I destroy our hard work?
I almost give a panicked laugh at myself because waiting? No fucking way.
There’s no way I’ll be able to break through without help, but my home is devoid of tools, so I grab my keys and head out to the storage carriages.
The rain has started, and I’m half-drenched by the time I reach them.
The new locks haven’t been tampered with, and I let myself into the first one to grab an axe, then the next one for a flashlight and batteries.
Even in my rush, I lock up behind myself, then head back inside.
I really should have had Kennedy come with me. He’d make easy work of this wall, because while I’m good with my hands, I have the upper-body strength of a jellyfish.
Too late now. I pick up the axe and swing it as hard as I can. Stupid us building this stupid thing of hardwood. It’s lucky the axe is sharp as fuck, otherwise I’d be making no progress. I swing and hack and hammer my way through the wall until there’s a gap large enough to fit through.
I’m panting harder than I was when I got here, and I know I’ll pay for all this exertion later, but for now, I toss the axe aside, pick up the flashlight, and slip through the hole.
It’s cooler back here, the storm dulled slightly. My light bounces from wall to wall, revealing parts of my home I haven’t seen in a long time.
“Hello?” I whisper.
What sounds like a stuttered breath comes from the right, and I quickly turn in that direction. It only takes a second before my light finds a tear-streaked face.
Fuck.
I was right. Guilt hits hard, and I start forward, needing to check that he’s okay, but as soon as I’m within a few feet, he jerks a huge knife up between us.
“Don’t come any closer!”
I pause, keeping out of reach. The guy looks young, but there isn’t a whole lot else I can make out about him. His hair is flattened to his head with dirt and what looks like blood, his face is filthy and covered in tears, and he’s wearing what looks like my favorite T-shirt.
I watch him, and despite how scared he must be, his grip on the knife is steady.
“What do you want with me?” he demands.
For him to get out of my home would be a start. I slowly run the flashlight over him, trying to work out if there are any other injuries. It’s impossible to tell, and after trying and failing, I slowly lower into a crouch and set the flashlight on the ground.
His eyes don’t leave me as I lift my hands between us.
He pushes back tighter against the wall. “You want to kill me!”
I shake my head quickly.
“I heard you!”
Heard me? The memory of Lynx earlier today saying he’d kill whoever took his knife … Of course he would have witnessed that. Was he sitting here the whole time, watching us box him in and too scared to say anything?
“I want to help you,” I force myself to say, but it comes out in a whisper.
“Don’t lie to me!”
I shake my head again, frustrated that I can’t explain. That I can’t tell him we didn’t know he was here and that Lynx would never harm him. That if he trusts me, I’ll help him get out of here. “I want to help.”
He stands suddenly, one hand flat to the wall behind him, while the other keeps the knife between us. “Get out of my way.”
I stand slowly and step to the side.
He snatches up the flashlight, backing toward where I came in from.
But before he can get there, a low yawl echoes through the space, and when he turns, the flashlight lands on Lynx’s grinning face.
“Well, well, well …” He leers, taking a careful step forward and making the man step back. “What do we have here? A rabbit caught in its den.”
“Don’t come any closer. I’ll use this.”
“Cleaver already knows the taste of my blood. We’re very old friends.”
“I don’t care.” The man’s hold on the knife shakes for the first time. “Just let me pass.”
“No.” The smile slips from Lynx’s face, and in the shadows of the mine, he looks demonic. “You took my things.”
“I want to leave.”
“I can’t let that happen.” And Lynx lifts up his machete. It’s not as thick as the cleaver, but it’s a lot longer, and I can’t pick which one I’d want pointed at me.
All I know is that the look on Lynx’s face confirms it would be whichever one he isn’t holding. But if Lynx scares me and we’re friends, I can’t imagine how the man feels. He let us bury him alive so he wouldn’t have to face Lynx.
It’s on me to help him.
Palms clammy, I set my jaw and step between them both. “Enough.” My voice shakes, and I want to crawl into a hole, but this is my goddamn home. “No one’s getting hurt.”
“The little mole man is making demands now, is he?”
“I’m serious.” I have to clear the block in my throat. “You won’t hurt him.”
“But he owes me so much.” Lynx’s voice is a low, warning growl.
“Then he can work off payment like the rest of us do. This is my house, and you’ll follow my rules.”
The low yowl comes again, and when the flashlight dips slightly, it catches Bob’s glowing eyes.
“What is that thing?” the man asks from behind me.
“That’s Bob,” Lynx says.
“B-Bob?”
“Yes. Bob. Bob the cat.”
“Bob won’t hurt him either,” I say. Considering none of us has control over the animal, it’s a bold demand, but I’m going to stand strong. This guy is terrified, and I can’t blame him. Wilde’s End isn’t the easiest place to survive, and our years here have hardened us.
Lynx’s eyes dip to meet mine. “I came to find you. Your pest is worried.”
“Kennedy?”
“Go tell him you’re safe. I’ll take care of this one.”
I hear the man move before I know what’s happening. The light goes berserk, there’s a thump, footsteps, a hiss, and then Lynx shrieks. Like his careful calm is exploding from him.
“He threw the fucking flashlight at me!”
A shadow crosses the hole I came in through, and I catch a glimpse of Lynx darting after it.
I have no idea what the hell I’m going to do, but I need to do something.
I chase the both of them, crawling through the hole, scrambling out of my place, and then running out into the rain. It takes me a moment to spot them, and when I do, I catch sight of Lynx gaining on the much smaller man. He pounces like a tiger, and they both slam into the ground.
I run, rain and wet hair trying to ruin my vision. No matter what, I can’t let Lynx hurt him. I can’t.
The cleaver is on the ground a few feet away, and Lynx is straddling the man’s chest, knife at his throat and every muscle in his arm bulging.
I reach them quickly. “Get off him.”
“Now is the time to be quiet,” Lynx warns.
“I said get off him!”
Lynx’s eyes flash, but he doesn’t look away. “This is why I hate people. Even your favorite pets disappoint you.”
I’m not sure whether to be surprised that I’m his favorite or offended that he called me his pet. He doesn’t even call Bob his pet.
“Please, Lynx,” I beg, hoping there’s a scrap of humanity in there somewhere.
“It’s my job to protect the town. To keep us safe.” Lynx’s eyes are wide, vein bulging in his forehead, arm shaking under the pressure of keeping himself steady.
“He’s not a threat!” I shout, panic creeping in at the same time as the man loses it.
“Please let me go. I didn’t mean to steal your stuff. I crashed here, and I’m lost and scared and—”
“Shut the fuck up.”
The man swallows his words.
“Lynx—”
“You too.” The knife jerks closer to the guy’s throat, and I don’t know what else to do.
My gaze darts to the cleaver. Surely Lynx wouldn’t be able to stop me from getting to it in time.
But even as I think that, Bob creeps into my line of sight, fur soaked, large ears pulled back and flat to his head, huge paws tense with every step.
Between the two of them, I wouldn’t have a chance. Bob would die before he let something happen to Lynx.
“Please.”
Lynx’s lips curl back. “The rules of the wild are absolute.”
“Lynx—” I dart for the cleaver, safety be damned, when Bob moves.
I brace for him to pounce at me, but instead—
He throws himself over the man’s head.
Lynx jolts in surprise, blade brushing Bob’s fur, and the machete hits the ground.
“What …” He stares at the animal as all the fur on the back of its neck lifts.
I watch them both, eyes locked on each other for a long moment before Lynx leans in. “I could kill you,” he hisses. “Gut you and use you for a rug.”
Bob lets out his low warning noise that terrifies me, but Lynx only grabs the cat and drags him off the man. He doesn’t pick the knife back up. Instead, he leans down, until his terror meets the man’s panic, and while his first words are swallowed by the storm, I catch the rest.
“Welcome to Wilde’s End, little rabbit. I’ve been outvoted, so it’s time to face our fearless leader.”
Lynx stands, dragging the man by the shirt after him.
They’re both drenched. Lynx’s red hair is stuck to his face and neck on one side, the other shaved too close to see.
The rain has washed a lot of dirt off the man, and even though his hair is damp, I think he might be blond.
He’s almost a whole head shorter than Lynx, and as the dirt leaves his face, it highlights how pretty he is.
“Be careful with him,” I say, picking up the cleaver and then creeping closer to retrieve the machete as well.
Lynx doesn’t stop me. “Keep those blades pointed at him, won’t you? Wilde can decide what to do next.”