I jerk in Malakai’s hold, only to find his hand slapped over my mouth so I don’t give us away.Shit.Angling my head to peer at him, I take in the sharp definition in his cheekbones, the cut of his tense jaw, and the way the muscles there twitch. At this very moment, the only word to describe him is dangerous. But in what way? In general? Or to my fucking heart? Those deep, dark eyes delve directly into my soul, and the intensity in him rocks me so hard it makes mybones rattle. I have no doubt he’s ready to take some sort of action if he has to. But oh god, I hope it doesn’t come to that.Go. Away. You. Disgusting. Cretins.
Tucking his head next to mine, the soft whisper that leaves his lips is a direct contradiction to the rigidity of his stance. “Shh. It’s okay. Don’t give us away. They’ll go.”
I try to do as he says, but my body has other ideas, quaking uncontrollably. The more those assholes wander around while talking about what they’ll do when they catch me, the more unnerved I become.
Finally, just as I think I might really lose it, they make their way out of the barn. The door screeches shut again and, overcome with relief, my chest jerks with silent sobs that rack my body. Without thinking twice about what I’m doing, I curl into him.
Hesitantly, his hand lands on my back, patting me in a soothing rhythm, and in response, I drag in an unsteady breath before he murmurs low, “Hey. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” Warmth cascades through me as he strokes his hand down my spine. He repeats the process over and over while I struggle to collect myself. I don’t yet know if I can trust him, and the tiniest of whimpers steals its way past my lips. Shifting, I turn even farther inward and burrow against his chest, seeking solace in his arms.
We sit like that for quite some time before he leans to one side. What he’s doing, I have no idea, but he keeps moving, and all my head tells me to do is refuse to let go, so I clutch the front of his shirt in my fists. Amoment later, something comes down over my head. “What?” I croak, stiffening. But then, I recognize the fabric as the garment he’d brought into the barn. My breath stutters. “Thank you.”
He says nothing but helps me work my arms into the holes and pulls it down over my torso, covering my nakedness. Now that my heart has finally stopped slamming against my rib cage, I take a minute to study this man, slowly allowing everything that’s just transpired to sink in. Watching me with wary eyes, he appears to be afraid I’m going to lose it at any moment. But right now, I’m okay. Because of him.
And while I appreciate his concern, my eyes narrow, tracing his features. Because it’s hit me like a ton of bricks that this man and the dickhead who licked my face and threatened me the first day I was here are one and the same. But tonight? He’s come to my rescue. He went out of his way to offer me a harbor in the storm of my current existence.
Not only that, but he almost got caught doing it. He didn’t have to do any of what he has, didn’t have to offer me shelter from the elements, didn’t have to help me clean up, and definitely didn’t have to hide me. If he’d wanted to, he could have let Gannon and Dragan find us in here, could have played it off like he’d been planning to have a little private fun with me. My mouth goes dry. Or he could have letthemat me, like they were talking about doing. But he hadn’t done any of those things.
After our first few run-ins, I neverwould have dreamed I’d be comfortable being near him like this, but I am—mostly. He didn’t have to tell me about his background, but he had. There’d been a haunted look in his eyes when he admitted to being an outsider. Not born in the compound.But… how did he get here? Why? When?I have a feeling the answers to those questions might give me a lot of insight. But no matter how much I’m dying to know, I’m not going to ask… mostly because I don’t want to pick at his wounds only to have him turn around and start prying into what my life had been like at the home. I shudder, blocking out the worst of it, like I always do. Talking about it would simply send me into a shame spiral, and that’s beyond what I can handle tonight, so his past will have to remain a mystery for now.
I study his downcast gaze again, sorting through what Idoknow about him. That Gannon asshole is his brother. Both are Kiefer’s sons. I imagine his arrival was a real issue if he was brought here and he’s the “new” heir? No fucking wonder Gannon is such a dick.
There’s also something about the hesitant way Malakai revealed that he wasn’t born here that makes me think he didn’t have it easy being the new kid on the block. I bet he had a rough go of it. My lips twist as I ponder what kind of shitstorm his arrival would have caused.
There are so many things I wish I could ask about, but right now, I’m going to let it lie and focus on something else I’ve been waiting for the chance to askabout. I blink up at him and swallow hard. “Remember the day when your dad set me free and you caught me?”
He eyes me. “As if I could fucking forget.” Frowning, he mumbles quietly, “What about it?”
“You said something odd to me that day.” I press my lips together, trying to remember exactly how he’d phrased it. He raises a brow, glancing away. It comes to me in a flash. “You said, ‘There’s nowhere for you to fucking go, don’t you get it?’And then there was something about previous attempts at escape and that no one had made it out.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, then roughly clears his throat. “I remember.”
He’s quiet for long enough, I have a feeling he’s not going to simply hand out additional information. I chew on my lip for another second or two before sucking up the courage to mutter, “You said if I made it past that first correction you’d tell me more. But you never did.”
“You’re right.” His voice comes out on a rasp, and he stares stonily at me for several beats. Just when I think there’s no way he’s elaborating, he lets out a breath that’s more ache than anything else. “Did you know the river washed the bridge out?”
I blink, staring at him. “Bridge?” As I sort through my hazy memories of the night these heathens found me in the forest, lost, dehydrated, and weak, nothing at all resurfaces. “Um. I didn’t know there was a bridge at all.”
Our eyes connect, and he nods, exhaling hard. “It’s gone.” There’s something he’s not saying. Anguish resides in the lines of worry etched around his features.What am I missing?I’m unsure what’s running through his mind, but I wait. I can be patient.
“It happened during the storm the night you showed up.” He rubs a hand over his cheek. “Without it, we’ll have difficulty getting more supplies. But luckily, we have a lot of things stored in the cellar and in one of the other outbuildings.”
“You all—” I stop, shaking my head. “Never mind.” Theydofucking have the capability of leaving this place. I am not trapped here. Not really. I should have known that the minute I encountered Finneas again and put two and two together about who he was.
My teeth sink into my lip as my mind runs amuck, already beginning to strategize an escape. Still, I know from experience just how far off the grid the compound is. That must be what he meant about previous escape attempts being unsuccessful. If anyone tried, they probably died out there. After all, I’d wandered for days on end before landing here. Leaving won’t be an easy feat. The odds are grimly not in my favor.
Watching Malakai, I wet my lips, certain I need to exercise caution in asking too much, too fast. “Is that where everyone was today? The river, I mean?”Were they really repairing—or rebuilding?—my ticket out of this place?In answer, he nods and his chest rises as he takes in the deepest of breaths.
My jaw works to the side. I might be crazy, but I think Malakai’s reaction to this business with the bridge says a lot about who he is, where he came from… and whether or not he might be useful to me as I figure out how to get myself the hell out of here. I very much want to unlock his secrets—the biggest of which might be that he’s not as tough or as much of a dick as he makes himself out to be. I’m beginning to wonder if his attitude is nothing more than a survival tactic.
“You should rest, Delilah,” he says, his voice low. “I had intended to let you sleep on the straw down there”—he pauses, jutting his chin toward the area we’d been before the arrival of the psycho twins—“but I think we’re safer up here.” Before I can say a word, he tugs me closer, wrapping me up in his warm embrace again. “Come on. Rest.”
SEVENTEEN
DELILAH
Leaning into him,I tuck my head under his chin and try like hell to clock out for a few minutes but can’t seem to relax enough for it to happen. Instead, I idly brush my fingers over the soft, worn fabric of his shirt. It’s probably been washed a thousand times. Come to think of it, I bet it’s a hand-me-down, originally owned by one of the Collective. I ease myself from his chest, peering up at him only to find he’s watching me warily.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?”
