“Caspian shot you, and from the sound of it, you have other beef with him as well.”
“Are they going to kill him?”
“They’d like to, but first, they need to find him.”
“I can’t help with that.”
“We’ll see what you can help with.”
Chapter 17
HUNTER
One Week Later
After spending almost a week in the holding, I still don’t know when I’m going to die. I’d prefer it to be sooner rather than later, because, at this point, death would be a mercy.
But they want information.
And as much as it shocks me, a part of me doesn’t want to leave this world.
Not yet.
Before the dead rose, I wouldn’t have cared. I did what I did up until the moment I got caught, fully prepared to die for my sins.
Never in a million years did I think I’d end up getting recruited to join the civil police. Just as I didn’t expect to survive an apocalypse.
My life took more twists and turns than a country road. Perhaps the most shocking of them being Fiona.
I didn’t think I was capable of change, but the old me would have pursued Caspian. The torture I would have rained down on his sorry ass would have been legendary.
But I couldn’t leave her.
I still don’t understand how it’s possible for me to feel so strongly toward anyone. Such feelings seemed meant for others. Never me.
I reckon that if there is a god, this is my punishment.
When I’m feeling especially worthy of self loathing, I wonder who she’ll end up with. Or who has already claimed her.
Atticus is a good dude and would take care of her, but he’s a bit of a nerd and undoubtedly the smartest person in the Keep. I’m not sure how he’d feel about Fiona’s struggle to read, not that it’s her fault.
I would have read to her if she’d cared to listen.
Why didn’t I?
Brock might be a better partner for her. He’s handsome, and not the type that would mistreat a woman. He’d make her smile…
Picturing Fiona with another man is utter torture, but I endure it.
I deserve it.
The door to the holding slides open, and in walks Alistair in an orange jumpsuit.
It’s not often I feel remorse, but knowing that I’m the reason he’s in here roils my gut.
He’s escorted into an adjacent cell by Cole, who doesn’t bother looking at me. My silence in the face of torture has pissed him off.
Ironically, he can’t bring himself to do the job right. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s conflicted about my incarceration and eventual death.
