And of course, I was the one who got stuck leading.
If this had been the Army, I would’ve left her on the first day. Let the crows pick her bones. But here I was, bushwhacking through brush, and every time I heard her stumble I had to stop myself from spinning around and screaming. Every single time.
Resentment pulsed under my skin, hot and corrosive. I wanted to fucking disappear. Or push her down a ravine and walk away. Either worked.
She was behind me, breathing too loud, boots slurping in the mud. I could feel her eyes burning into my back, judging me, waiting for me to fail. Typical. Always waiting to see me fuck up so she could crow about it.
“You know you’re not a Navy SEAL, right?” she snapped. Even her voice grated. “You can slow down. I’m not dying to impress you.”
I clenched my jaw. My fingers curled tight around a low-hanging branch. I nearly tore it off the damn tree. “If you’d keepmoving instead of bitching, we’d be halfway out of this forest by now.”
“Oh, so we’re taking the scenic route so you can show off? Impressive. Really, Caiden.”
I gritted my teeth and kept walking, pretending I didn’t hear the faint tremor in her voice. Fear? Or just loathing for me? Didn’t matter. I’d take either.
The path wound deeper into a mess of ferns and rotting logs, wet with old rain. I moved like I was back on patrol, every sense tuned up, waiting for disaster in the shadows.
And all I heard was her, huffing and cursing and falling behind.
“You want a medal?” I threw over my shoulder. “Try keeping up.”
“You want to be a martyr, just say so. I’ll be right here, collecting your bones after you drop dead.”
Red flashed behind my eyes. The pressure built in my skull. But my voice stayed cool. “Don’t tempt me. I’d rather lose myself out here than listen to your voice one more second.”
She mumbled something, too soft to catch. I didn’t care. Wind slapped through the trees. I lost the line of the trail twice, but I never let on. I just doubled down, always forward, even when it ended in a tangle of roots that almost took my fucking ankle off.
Pride wouldn’t let me slow down. Not for her. Not for anybody. Even when my legs buckled and the world spun, I kept plowing ahead, just to prove a point. Couldn’t be weak. Not in front of her.
But when she tripped, crashed to her knees behind me, I spun so fast my spine cracked. Instinct. Rage.
I caught her wrist before she hit the dirt. Dug my fingers in, hard enough to bruise. “Get up.” My voice barely sounded human. More hiss than sound.
She jerked her arm from my grasp, eyes flashing like she’d rather kill me than thank me. “Don’t fucking touch me, Caiden.” Her lips trembled. Pathetic. I should have let her fall.
But I didn’t.
She pushed up onto wobbly knees, hair wild, cheeks flushed, veins standing out in her neck. Every inch of her screamed weakness, and I hated her for it. Hated myself more. Because for allthe venom, I still couldn’t just leave her behind. Not after everything. Not now. Not ever.
I turned away, shoulders bunched tight, fists clenched at my sides. I wanted to put my arm through a tree. Instead, I just ground my boots deeper into the muck, shredding the next few yards until the trail dissolved into nothing. “Move,” I muttered without turning. “Unless you want to camp here.”
She stumbled after me, a curse rattling in her throat. I could feel the heat of her glare knifing holes through my shoulder blades. Still, she followed. Always.
The world shrank to mud, roots, her breath behind me, her boots sucking at every step. Time went feral, lost shape. A delirium of trees, darkness, the ache in my lower back and a hunger that bit down to the bone and never let go.
She bitched. She always bitched.
“Slow down, monster. Not all of us are built for this.” There was blood on her shin, seeping into her sock. She limped, but she wouldn’t give it up, not in front of me. That stubbornness almost made me want to grin.
Almost.
“You never quit, do you,” I shot back. “Even when you should.”
“I’m not quitting. I just hate you.”
“Right back at you.”
The brush thickened, lashing her face. I didn’t warn her. Let the branches make their marks. At least they were honest about what they were.
