Quickly, I slip on my trusty slippers, grab my dressing gown and head outside.
Hilda meets me at the door like the smart girl she is and I follow her out. Is there something wrong with her nest? Has one of the others injured themselves maybe?
She doesn’t head to their nests, instead heading right to where The Skulls keep their equipment. And more specifically, their masks.
I follow her inside and my blood runs cold as understanding hits me. She pecks at the empty hook she is perched on top of, emphasising exactly what she’s been trying to tell me this entire time.
Hilda and I look at Liam’s hook, the one with his missing skull mask.
‘No,’ a sob creeps up my throat.
He’s left. He’s left exactly like everyone else. Exactly like him and my bastard brother promised he wouldn’t.
Anger rages inside me, and I turn my back on the masks and go straight to pick up my machete. The only thing that I can rely on in my life.
Storming outside and into the stadium floor I internally scream.
Chapter forty-two
Isla
‘Ihate men!’
‘Don’t blame you,’ Elizabeth agrees with me as she pulls on her jacket.
‘I’ll admit they can be pretty fucking annoying.’ Fauna chimes in.
Liz found me first after my silent meltdown, internally screaming my head off. She probably saw the steam billowing from my ears and heard the alarm bells ringing around me. Her and Fauna came running, along with — for once in her life — a very silent Luna.
‘He’s an idiot, Isla.’
I roll my eyes at my best friend. ‘Tell me something I don’t already know.’
She grimaces, ‘Sorry.’
‘Just keep Ru away from me or else you might find yourself with a dickless boyfriend.’
‘Noted.’ She nods from the doorway, axe in hand.
Hilda affectionately pecks at my cheek, checking that I’m not about to have another one of my meltdowns and cause the stadium to go up in flames with me.
I swear the rage I’m feeling right now could cause second-degree burns if anyone dared to get too close.
‘C’mon,’ I motion for the three of us to leave.
Am I about to go find my boyfriend — or whatever the fuck relationship status exists in the apocalypse — wearing my jammies and slippers? You fucking bet I am. I've got the bed hair to match and my machete in hand to top off the fit.
See what a man can drive me to? I look bat shit crazy. Like really, really crazy. Oh, how times have changed.
Although my eight-month pregnancy belly would probably give most people pause. It’s not every day in the apocalypse you see a pissed off pregnant lady ready to machete any fucker down that gets in her way.
And to think a few months ago I was anxious about being able to protect my family. I scoff. Bet I didn’t imagine racing off to go drag said family member back since he insists on being a fucking idiot.
‘Isla, hey! Wait a sec.’
I don’t bother to slow my stomping pace; whoever it is can either fuck off or join me. I’m in no mood to be messed with.
‘I brought back up!’ Luna shouts as she catches up to jog alongside me. ‘Fuck for a pregnant lady you sure can move.’
