After a while, I even started to enjoy the relative peace and scents of nature with a hint of snow in the air. I especially loved the glimpses of stars above when the clouds moved out of the way. Voices drew me toward our final destination, and I was a little surprised to step out into a cleared area. We’d been hiking through quite thick foliage until this point, but this area had been set up for camping. There were stone seats, a central fire that was just starting to kick into gear, and about half the number of guys who had started out.
They were all gathered to the side, so I moved closer, figuring this was where the action was. When I was a few feet away, I heard a grunt and a very familiar thud. A gasp escaped from me as my feet froze in place… Someone was fighting. Or worse.
When there was a gap in the crowd of males, I finally saw what was happening. One of the guides was laying into a stocky blond guy—either a rich kid had stepped out of line or this was the next test. Somehow, I doubted this was part of the program because, like letting us die, randomly beating the fuck out of us was counterproductive.
So the kid had messed up and was getting his comeuppance.
The guide turned then, lifting himself from his crouched position, and another gasp escaped from my mouth. Not because of the violence in the air or his lethally coiled muscles—I was no stranger to angry men who fixed their problems with fists. No surprise there. But what was a surprise was that the guide in question was all too familiar to me. And now I understood why, back at the first fire, his voice had stirred my body and lifted the hairs on my arms.
It wasDylan motherfucking Grant.
For a second, I wondered if maybe I was hallucinating. Had I hit my head at some point on the hike and not realized it? I mean, it wasn’t hugely surprising that Blake had sent me to a Delta-run camp, but why the hell was Dylan here? I mean, did their CEOs often camp in the freezing forest and beat the shit out of punk-ass rich boys?
My heart slammed against my chest as most of me struggled to understand how my two worlds had collided so spectacularly. Deciding that it might be better to run rather than face Dylan, I shuffled back, only pausing again when I accidentally stepped onto a loose branch, cracking it under my boots.
Despite the noise already in the campgrounds—dumbass dudes catcalling and carrying on about the fight—Dylan still heard me, his head whipping in my direction. Our eyes locked, and I could have sworn my heart skipped out of its normal rhythm as Dylan straightened to his extremely impressive height.
The other noises faded as the guys stepped back, no doubt worried they were about to be the next to fall victim to his fast fists and heavy blows. Dylan didn’t look happy, but what most of them weren’t aware of was that his anger was directed solely at me.
He took a step toward me, and I cursed myself for not running when I’d had the chance. I’d lied to him, he was not going to be happy about it, and the last thing I wanted to do was explain the reasons for my deceit and have it somehow get back to my brother.
"Brooklyn!" Matthew exclaimed, noticing me standing on my own. He hurried forward to usher me into the main group. Dylan remained where he was, front and center, icy green eyes locked on me. "Have you met Dylan?" Matthew asked when we got closer. “He owns this camp, and we’re lucky this round to have him here in person. His skills are unsurpassed, and learning from the best makes you the best.”
Yes, I was feelingsuper luckyabout having him here in person.
Neither of us said a word, and Matthew actually shifted uncomfortably as he tried again, in reverse. "Dylan, this is Brooklyn Lawson, our female signup."
Dylan crossed his arms. "Brooklyn is it? And what bringsBrooklyn Lawsoninto our program?"
God, the way he said my name, low voice scraping over the syllables as he emphasized it. I'd waited so long to hear it on his lips, but it wasn't exactly how I imagined. Dylan was pissed, and I was going to have some explaining to do.
I was too exhausted for this.
"My brother is an asshole," I answered truthfully. "He likes to punish me for existing, and apparently you all have a reputation here for destroying spoiled, rich fucks."
My eyes fell to the still unconscious guy on the ground.
"He tried to ambush another one of the kids," Matthew said, jumping in. No doubt he was confused about this tension between Dylan and me. If he even had the slightest clue of the history here, he'd run in the opposite direction. "With a knife. We don't allow weapons, and we don't encourage survival that way."
"So Dylan had to teach him a lesson," I said with a snort of laughter. "Looks like it worked."
Dylan shrugged, his broad shoulders extra-emphasized by the long-sleeved, tightly fitted black shirt he wore. "He's not dead, so he can count himself lucky."
Most people would think that was a joke, but I knew better. Dangerous men were all the same when you crossed them. The only reason I felt myself to be reasonably safe was that Dylan had no reason to hurt me, but that might all change when he pushed for more answers.
“So, what’s the plan now?” I asked as more of the guys stumbled into the clearing. There were at least half a dozen still missing, but most had figured out how to get here. “Are we sleeping here for the night?”
Please be distracted. Please be distracted.
Ben chose that very moment to saunter over, face relaxed. “If it isn’t my savior,” he said, wrapping an arm around me. Dylan’s face settled into cold, hard lines—the face of a killer who would feel not an ounce of remorse for stealing your life in one swift strike.
Matthew, smarter than he looked, took the opportunity to disappear, and I didn’t blame him. If anything, I was envious.
Ben, meanwhile, quickly removed his arm. “Sorry, boss, didn’t mean to get too friendly. I know that we’re here to teach and nothing else.” He winked at me though, and I sensed this one was going to be trouble, which was the absolute last thing I needed.
This camp was already turning out to be a much bigger pain in the ass than I’d anticipated with my secret worlds colliding, and I had a sense that I’d be the one left in pieces when it was all over.
“Dylan! We need to get these assholes organized,” one of the other guides shouted. “Want them to set up camp?”
