I shake my head, unsure where Wren is going.
Wren rolls their eyes. “He’s a man of order and process. The chances of him not having his phone, and somewhere close to full charge in the morning, is out of the question. So, his phone didn’t die.”
I get what Wren is saying. “Meaning, he may have taken them somewhere right by their last co-ordinates that doesn’t carry a signal.”
“Yes. Or maybe we aren’t that lucky and he turned them off and threw them out of the window. Maybe it’s a trap or diversion.”
“Can you narrow down where?”
“I can give you an area. Maybe a mile or two square.”
For the first time in ten hours, I can breathe. “It narrows the size of the haystack we have to find the needle in. I’ll make sure at least one of us has a signal, even if it means leaving one of us on the road somewhere.”
“Grudge quietly added me to the group chat two months ago. I’ll reveal myself if I find anything new.”
I slap their arm. “You are the fucking greatest human alive.”
They grin at that. “I agree. Now, go find them.”
35
SHADE
The first thing I register is the smell.
Standing water. Rust. And the coppery tang of blood, which I assume is mine, although, my face and body are too numb to feel whether I’m still bleeding.
My wrists burn where the ropes cut into my skin, but given my hands are tied behind my back, it’s hard to calculate the damage. I feel the steady trickle of something warm down my neck, which I assume is blood from the head injury I got before even leaving the house.
All I know is, if I was in a bad way after the bike crash, I’m ten times worse now.
And if I get through this, I want to be sedated for a fucking week of recovery, so I don’t have to live through the first seven days of agony.
There’s a rope leading from my hands, tied to a beam overhead, but there’s no real tension in it. It’s more to keep me in one place, I guess.
Perhaps the only reassuring thing is that my head rests on Isla’s lap. We’re together and close to each other in this entrance to an old mine shaft. For now, I can keep Paltrow away from her.
When Paltrow first appeared at my door, holding a gun directly at me, I didn’t have the ability to grab a weapon of my own and my only relief was that Isla was no longer there. When he gave me the zip tie and told me to put my hands through it, then use my teeth to close it, I did as he said.
Because rule one of these situations is to do what you have to do to stay alive. And when Paltrow arrived, he was babbling wild and crazy about holding me hostage and carving me up slowly, leaving bits of me scattered around for Jackal to find, like some kind of fucked-up game. His goal was to draw out my death painfully and slowly, to cause the maximum amount of agony for Kai.
He’d raved about it taking years to recover from his burns, to track us down and find us. Being nomads had made it harder.
I’d almost vomited when Isla burst through the door. From my position, on my knees with my hands tied, it had been impossible to move faster than Paltrow who had a gun to her head before I could stand.
I take a deep breath, trying to clear the fog in my head.
Even though the scent of Isla is reassuring, and this moment of quiet is a brief reprieve from more pain, I force my eyes open and can see the blood smearing her bare feet.
This bout of unconsciousness was because the fucker made her walk over all that gravel and dirt and stone barefoot, instead of letting me carry her. Before we left the house, she’d begged him to let her put the shoes she had in her bag on, but he refused. She tried so hard to hide those tears, to keep putting one painful foot in front of the other, but when she fell down and cried, I charged Paltrow in frustration and rage.
It was messy; we tumbled. With his hands and feet free, he was back upright long before I was. And with a gun at Isla’s head, I had no choice but to comply.
Now, there is rope tying my ankles.
Isla’s emotions are frayed. When Paltrow ordered us to walk to his truck and I saw her house on fire, I nearly choked. She could have died in there. I know it’s gonna take a really long time for that to sink in for her. But we’ll rebuild the place brick by brick, if that’s what she needs. Or she can move in with us. Make her videos there. I’ll even wear one of those Ghostface masks, so I can help her without violating the Outlaws rules about social media.
But I won’t sit back and watch her heart break into so many pieces, we can’t put it back together again. I never thought I would say this, but once this is over, me and my fiancé will heal our old lady.
