I leaned over but couldn’t see who it was.
But I knew one thing.
Someone else was dead.
18
ISI
My heart crushed itself against my ribcage as I counted heads, panic already clawing at my throat. Lexie. Derren. Bryson. Kerralyn. Maddox.
Where was Jaxon?
The question had barely flitted through my mind when the canopy above us began to shudder, a violent, unnatural movement of the leaves that had nothing to do with wind. Birds exploded from the vegetation in a cacophony of squawks and beating wings, their cries sharp with terror. Then came the bees. Dozens of them, zipping around us in a maddened frenzy, their buzzing musical fury.
My gaze found Maddox’s across the narrow platform of branches where we’d been sleeping. The color drained from his face so quickly I thought he might faint. A guttural sound tore from his throat, the kind of noise someone makes when they already know the worst has happened.
“No,” he breathed, staring toward the ground. “No!”
Primal panic broke out. We scrambled down branch by branch, bark scraping our palms raw, leaves whipping our faces. The beesdove at me, their stings tiny needles, leaving stinging burns on my hands, ankles, and neck.
“Damned bees,” Lexie snarled, swatting at them. “May the fates rot your puny wings!”
“Get to the ground.” Bryson’s voice cut through the uproar. “Everyone move.”
I dropped the last few feet to the jungle floor, my knees buckling on impact.
Then I saw Jaxon.
He lay sprawled on his back, barely conscious, his limbs twisted into unnatural angles. A broken tree impaled his chest, and blood poured from the wound.
Smashed honeycomb lay scattered around him like the remnants of a fairy tale gone horribly bad. Bees crawled across his face and neck, their movements sluggish, almost lazy. A few still buzzed angrily in the humid air above him.
“Jax.” Maddox hit the ground running, his control shattered completely. He swatted at the remaining bees with hands that shook so violently I was surprised he could coordinate the movement.
Honey squelched out from under the weight of his knees when he hit the ground.
“Stay with me.” He gathered Jaxon’s head into his lap, his voice filled with the kind of love that would tear the world apart to save one person. “Please, Jaxon. Don’t leave me.”
As we’d walked, Maddox had talked about how Jaxon had been sickly as a baby. How everyone said he wouldn’t make it past his first winter. How Maddox, barely six years old himself, had refused to leave his brother’s side.
They said he’d die,Maddox had said.But I took care of him, and he didn’t.
Now Jaxon’s chest rose and fell in shallow, labored gasps. His hazel eyes, so like his brother’s, but warmer, gentler, found Maddox’s face with considerable effort. When he spoke, his voice barely rose above a whisper.
“Make sure…” Each word seemed to cost him. “Everyone gets the honey.”
Even wounded so badly, he could only think of others. That was Jaxon.
Then his chest stilled.
Silence settled over us with the crush of a fallen boulder. The remaining bees continued their drowsy drone, but the sound felt distant now. Muted. As if the forest held its breath.
Maddox pressed his forehead to Jaxon’s chest. His shoulders began to shake—first with silent sobs, then with something deeper. More feral. Grief tearing out of him in waves that made my chest ache in sympathy.
Finally, Maddox looked up. The fury in his brown eyes hit me in the throat like an axe. I lifted my hand between us.
“I should kill you right now.” He scrambled to his feet and took a step toward me, his fists lifting.
