When she turns to hug me, I feel the rattle in her lungs, the weakness in her embrace, and I know this is the right thing to do. I brush her hair back from her face, trying my best to smile.
“We’ll see each other soon,” I whisper. Because I believe it. Because I have to, or I might not let her go.
The light through the window wavers and I blink back hot tears. On the other side of it, Jack descends the hill. Chill meets him at the edge of the woods. Says something. Then shoves him hard. Jack takes it, as if he deserves it somehow. He lets Chill push him again. Lets him pound on his chest. Then Jack grabs him by the shirt and pulls him into his arms, tight enough that Chill can’t push him away or hurt him anymore. He holds him until Chill’s shoulders begin to shake and Jack’s eyes are red with tears. Until they’ve said their goodbyes, and the only thing left to do is let go.
31
The Lion’s Den
JACK
We watch the cabin in shifts—me and Fleur, then Amber and Julio—alert for sudden movement through the trees. The air’s been thick with tension since our Handlers left, our foul moods mirrored in the grayness of the sky, our anxiety in the restlessness of the wind. Every tree branch swaying is a false alarm, every rustling leaf a distraction. No matter how high up the ridge I climb, I can’t see a hint of whatever Doug’s got planned for us.
Fleur’s pink hair is a small bright spot on the ridge below me. She patrols the perimeter around the cabin, stooping to set trip lines made from a spool of fishing line she found in my grandfather’s shed. Her hands graze the tree trunks, as if their roots are all networked and she’s somehow tapping in, the same way she touched my face this morning and could sense something was wrong. She hasn’t looked at me the same way since. And I wonder if she blames me the way Julio does. If she suspects that I’m somehow responsible for the fact that this place is no longer safe for us.
Regardless of what Julio thinks, I never shared any of this with Lyon. Never told him any of our plans, even though it was obvious he knew all along what I was up to. Even so, I can’t make myself believe Lyon would sell us out. He’s risked too much just to help us get here. I only wish I understood why.
The wind howls over the ridge, the prevailing gusts from the southeast uncomfortably warm at my back, probably because Julio’s still pissed at me. Inside the cabin, he’s securing boards over the window, his hammer smacking nails into the walls hard enough to knock them down. I pick up my ax and get back to work, chopping down long trunks and stripping them of their branches, piling them one on top of another in a precarious stack at the crest of the hill before securing them with a trip wire.
After, I head to the overlook just below the cabin. Fleur sits perched on a boulder, watching the clouds, a stack of stones the size of her fist piled beside her. I consider making a joke about how they’re too small to do any real damage, but I know better.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. Our shift is over. I should at least get that off my chest before we go inside and try to sleep.
“Don’t be. Sending them away was the right thing to do.” She turns the empty spool of fishing line in her hands. The sight of it makes me ache for my grandfather, for his reassuring presence. I hate that there’s no one left to watch my back.
“Still,” I say, raking my hair from my eyes, “it doesn’t make it easier.”
The hammering stops. A gust of wind lifts Fleur’s hair as Amber and Julio’s argument escalates inside.
“They’ve been bickering all afternoon,” she says, swiping at her eyes.
“About what?”
“Everything. Nothing.”
She listens to them with a pained expression. Her hair sticks in the corner of her lip and I want to reach for it, brush it away, and kiss her like we did last night. To hold her and keep everything from falling apart.
The door to the cabin flies open, smacking into the wall as Amber storms out. Julio follows her onto the porch, gripping his hammer, staring at her back as she goes.
The wind shifts abruptly with Amber’s temper, carrying a hint of something that wasn’t there a moment ago. I stand up, struggling to place it.
“What’s wrong?” Fleur asks.
“Someone’s coming.” Something doesn’t feel right. Doesn’t smell right. We shouldn’t be able to smell the Guards at all.
I take off for the cabin.
“What did he see?” Julio asks Fleur as I dash inside. I grab the fire poker from the bucket beside the wood stove and fish a knife from a kitchen drawer.
Amber meets me at the foot of the porch steps. “What’s going on?”
I consider giving my ax to Fleur, but every tree in these woods is a weapon she can use to defend herself. It’s the reason I picked this place. This is her safe house. Not mine. I toss the fire poker to Julio and hand Amber the knife.
“Shouldn’t Fleur have a weapon?” she asks, reluctant to take it.
“I’m fine,” Fleur insists.
“The mountain is her weapon,” I tell her. Amber’s never fought a Spring. She wouldn’t know. Part of me thinks maybe Lyon had a point. We have an advantage our opponents won’t. We’ve been fighting each other so long, we’ll anticipate each other’s moves before we make them. “We stay together in pairs. Back to back is the only way we’ll beat them. And whatever you do, don’t let the Guards touch you.”
