He reaches for me.
No, no, no.
I can’t go back to the compound. I need to go home and be with what remains of my family. I fight against a pair of big, strong arms as they try to lift me. I don’t care what I look like, tears pouring down my face, my skin blotchy, my nose completely blocked. Everything elseimportant to me has vanished in the space of a few seconds.
He tries to pull me to my feet, but I yank back. “No, I need to find my mom and brother. Their phones both went to voicemail when I called.”
What does that mean? Has something happened to their phones? Or something happened tothem? I can’t bear to think about it. I must know they’re safe. God, I wish I had a current number for Xavier. It seems crazy that I don’t, but we are not remotely close these days. If I can get to Mom, it will all be all right.
“I know where the safe house is,” I insist. “I can go to them.”
“And if someone has eyes on you? What then? Let’s say they let you live, at least long enough to leave here. You’ll then lead them straight to your family, where they’ll wipe all of you out. You want to have that blood on your hands?” He rubs his palm over his face. “You could get yourself killed.”
“Or worse,” Saint points out, his French accent giving his blunt words a melodious ring. “You might get tortured. Raped. You’re a woman, and the things they could do…”
I swallow hard against the tight lump in my throat as my vision blurs with fresh tears. No, of course I don’t want that, any of it, but I also can’t sit around here and do nothing.
“I’ll make sure no one is following me.” It’s a pathetic attempt but I have to try.
“Grow up, Camile. How can you be sure of that?” Jack snarls the words at me.
I jerk back at his sharp tone as though he’s just slapped me. I want to tell him this is none of his business,that what happens to me and my family has nothing to do with him. But I made it his business the night I climbed over his fence and ran to him for help.
“I don’t need your help anymore,” I blurt.
He narrows his eyes at me, a muscle beneath his cheekbone ticking. “You don’t get to be the one who decides when it is and when it isn’t suitable for me to help you. I’m not a trained guard dog you can call to attention when you need me, then give a little pat on the head when you’re wanting me to stand down. You got me involved, and so I’m fucking involved.”
The tears come harder. “That isn’t what I’m doing!”
“You sure about that?”
He stoops down, and in one swift move, hauls me up and throws me over his shoulder, fireman style.
“Jack!” I screech. “Put me down.”
“I’ll put you down when I’m ready.”
He carries me over to an old truck, which belongs to Roman. Roman isn’t the type of person who is into material things. He prefers nature and is more likely to be found out in the woods than inside a building. Until recently, he and his friends were considered outcasts and freaks in the college—I guess they still are to some extent. They exiled themselves by stalking around the place wearing freaky masks and doing pagan rituals, but their new relationship with one of my other friends, Ophelia, has brought them more into the open.
The back door is already open, and Jack throws me inside like I’m a sack of flour. He tosses the bag I’d brought from the compound and my purse in after me.
“Put on your seatbelt.”
I dart for the opposite door, but Roman is alreadythere, shaking his head. “Oh, no, Camile, not on my watch. Sit down and do as you’re told.”
“Fuck!” I scream and kick at the back of the seat.
I can sense people watching me with wary eyes. This isn’t the Camile they know and love. The sensible girl. The one who does everything right and is a shoulder to cry on, and is always the one who dishes out advice when needed. I’m unrecognizable, and I don’t even care.
Maybe I’m acting a little crazy, but who the hell can blame me? Deep down, I understand that running off home is a suicide mission. A part of me wants that, though. I want to lose myself in pain and madness. Succumb to it completely. Losing my mind and screaming and lashing out is better than facing the huge hole of grief and loss yawning inside of me. How come I’m mourning a man who never really loved me and who treated me like a pawn to be used in his power games? In some ways, I know my life is going to be better in some aspects without my father, but the fact I’ve only just found out he’s been brutally murdered is still a huge shock.
The doors are all shut now, trapping me inside, but the windows are half open so I can hear everything that’s being said.
“When Vani gets back here with her stuff, we leave and drive fast, okay?” Jack tells Roman. He keeps his voice low, and he glances to the trees again. “I’ll tail you on my bike.” He flaps open the inside of his leather cut, and I realize he’s armed.
A jolt of shock goes through me. Does he really think we could be ambushed on the road? I guess it’s possible. It makes sense that he called Roman. He wanted to be our armed escort. Shit.
Even though Jack’s pissed me off, I don’t want to be separated from him. It hits me that if I were to stay at the college and refuse to leave with him, I wouldn’t have Jack anywhere nearby. The thought makes me feel unstable, like the ground beneath me is no longer solid and I could fall through it and continue to fall forever.
