For now. She’s with me. ‘Safe’ is not entirely accurate.
For a flicker of a second, something fractures her blank expression. Grief? Disbelief? It’s gone before I can name it.
“There’s a track ahead; we have a vehicle. It won’t be long.” I sheath the wand, pull out my phone, and thumb it on. “Excuse me—I just need to make a call.”
My sister answers on the second ring. “Dayna? Theemergency team missed a woman,” I tell her. “Unconscious, hidden in the trees. I’m bringing her in. Could you find me a specialist healer? She’s all right, just stunned and frightened.”
“Oh no. Do we know how she got there?”
“No, I don’t know; she hasn’t said much, and I don’t wish to press her.”
“Do you need a healer?”
“A female healer would be ideal.”
Paper rustles. “We have one on standby, two minutes out—” Dayna’s voice drops, edged with pain. “Jennifer’s on call.”
“Yes, even Jennifer.” She’s brilliant at her job, and insufferable.
“She will meet you at the secondary rendezvous on the forestry track.”
“Thanks, sis. Bye.”
I settle the woman in the passenger seat, buckle her in, and drape a blanket over her. I offer the gentlest smile I own, stepping back before I do something foolish—like tuck her hair behind her ear.
Arthur lands on the roof with a muted thump.
I slide behind the wheel. “We’re meeting a healer and another team further along,” I tell her, keeping my tone soft, my smile easy, every inch the patient, reassuring Hunter.
I start the engine and coax the car along the narrow track. In the dashboard glow her fingers twist the blanket; her gaze flits from mirror to window to my hands on the wheel.
“Are youall right?”
I will play the nice guy—for as long as it takes.
She wipes her cheeks, startled by tears. “Just… overwhelmed.”
Understatement of the century.
I nod, letting the silence settle. Let her think I believe every word she isn’t saying. Let her feel safe. Because I will find out who she is.
I steal a glance at her profile—those wide, wary lilac eyes—and all I want, absurdly, is to stop the car and hold her.
Chapter Forty-Three
Bonus Scene Two – The Island
Lander’s point of view
“I’m sorry,”she whispers.
She’s there—ash smears her cheek, singed hair, backpack strap digging into her shoulder.
One blink. One breath.
The air rushes in to fill the space she leaves behind, a tiny punch of displaced pressure that makes my ears pop.
Harper vanishes.
