“But if you need me?—”
Oh. Isn’t he cute?
I have my lighter. My knife.
A gun in reach.
“Sure. If I need you, I’ll wake you up.”
I’m not waking him up.
“We’re in this together, kid. Like I said before, it’s not too late to turn back now.”
Spend all day tomorrow walking back to the Grave? Or trudge forward, heading toward Manhattan?
“Get your rest, Mav.” Hey. If he can call me “kid”, I can call him “Mav”. “I’ll wake you up to take next watch.”
I wait to see if he’ll correct me shortening his name the same way I corrected him fornotshortening mine earlier. When all he does is stretch up like a cat, arching his back and showing off his gun again, I slip my hand into my pocket, reaching for the familiar metal of Rory’s pocket knife.
And then, after he settles down on his bedroll, I sit beside the fire, enjoying the warmth and watching the flames flicker while counting down until it’s my turn.
My scream is muffled by a strong hand clamped over my nose and my mouth.
The skin is chilly and damp; it smells of pine and tastes like ash. I have no fucking clue who this hand belongs to. As I’mripped out of sleep, the night is heavy and still and dark enough that I shouldn’t have to be up yet.
I feel like I only just got to lie down. Now, I have no idea where I am, what’s going on, or why I’m being grabbed. Of course I scream, and even as I return to consciousness, I can’t stop.
Someone shushes me.
It takes everything I have to try. Blinking rapidly, I attempt to swallow back my sudden panic. The moon hangs high overhead, the weak light strong enough for me to see that it’s Maverick’s hand pressed to my face. His dark hair shadows his eyes and the hollows of his cheeks as he bows over me. As soon as he sees that I’m awake and that I’ve stopped struggling, he puts his pointer finger to his lips and hushes me again.
I nod. My heart is racing, my every instinct tells me to get up, to get away, but I’ll have a much better chance of doing that if he isn’t clutching me to him.
Maverick finally lets me go, but not before he repeats the shushing noise one last time. I kick my way out of the sleeping bag, scrabble to my knees, falling forward and crawling away from him as soon as I can.
“What are you doing?” I hiss, keeping my voice low.
“Shh.”
Fuck that. “Are you insane?” I squint, peering at him—and that’s when I realize that the reason I’m having a hard time seeing him is because the fire… it’s out.
It’sout.
I reach for my pack. I must’ve knocked it away in my hurry to escape Maverick because it’s not near my rumpled sleeping bag. Snatching it, I start searching for my matches while Maverick inches closer to me.
“Why is the fire out?” I demand. He had a point earlier. When fire’s the only thing that can keep the lurkers away, it’s adeath wish to let the flames die out. “We have to get it started again.”
“I put it out.”
So I was right. Heisinsane. “Why?”
“Because I heard something out there. Listen. Okay? Just hold on for a second andlisten.”
“If it’s lurkers, we need the fire.”
“It sounded like a rogue. More than one. Did you hear that? Nine o’clock. Someone shouted.”
Nine o’clock. My left. I strain my ears—and my stomach lurches.
