Your Boys
Olivia
“If you keep glaringat me, your face is going to stick like that,” I tell Rhys with a frustrated sigh. It’s been about ten minutes since the group dispersed to gather supplies, and Rhys hasn’t stopped scowling at me.
It’s getting annoying. On the bright side, the cut on my cheek isn’t throbbing as badly as it was, and my neck isn’t as sore from being strangled, so maybe I got lucky and it isn’t bruised.
“Too late for that,” Theo says with a grin, although it’s strained around the edges. “It’s the guy’s default facial expression.”
Rhys turns his ire on Theo. “I wouldn’t be wearing this expression if the people around me didn’t constantly try to get themselves killed.” He directs the last part at me.
I roll my eyes. This is a conversation we’ve been having since I disregarded his orders at that damn bridge nearly two weeks ago. It doesn’tmatter how many times I’ve justified my case, he still won’t let it go.Stubborn bastard.
Not wanting to get intoanotherargument with him, I steer my horse, Bean, away from where the guys are standing. Harlow, my blue merle Australian Shephard, follows.
“Where are you going?” Rhys demands.
“To grab my arrows and get away from you.”
“Princess—”
“Let her go, Rhys. She’s still going to be within our sights,” Alex says, cutting Rhys off before he can bark out the order. “It’s not like she can get into too much trouble with the corpses.” His tone is bitter, and I wince. I guess he’s still pissed about my stupid scheme of using myself as bait from earlier.
There’s a heavy, relenting sigh from Rhys, but he doesn’t call me back.
I ride Bean over to a grassy area and jump off her back to let her relax and eat some grass before we have to leave. While she grazes, I turn back to the bodies strewn across the battlefield and grimace. There’s so many dead people, just lying in the dirt, their lives snuffed out in an instant. While most of them were terrible people or zombies intent on killing us, it doesn’t take away from the horror of the sight.
Or the guilt swirling in my stomach.
It’s not that I feel remorse over the people I killed; it’s the opposite. The only emotion I have is relief that they’re dead, which makes me feel guilty. I took the lives of several people; shouldn’t I be regretting my actions? Or at least shame that I killed people. But there’s nothing.
Which makes me wonder: am I any better than the monsters I killed?
Harlow whines and pushes her wet nose into my hand. I turn my attention away from the gruesome view to my dog as I thread my fingers through her thick fur. “I know, girl,” I murmur as I stroke her.
She leans into my side, grounding me as the warmth of her body soaks through my leggings. As much as I’d like to stand here and cuddle Harlow, I really need to get my arrows back.
With a sigh, I locate the nearest arrow sticking out of a corpse and walk over to it. I keep my mind focused on the task at hand; pull the arrow free and clean the tip on the nearby grass before locating the next one. As long as I don’t think too hard about it, I’ll keep my sanity.
“So, how many people did you kill?”
I choke on air and almost stumble onto the dead corpse at my feet. The reality of what I’m doing comes rushing in, and I have to fight not to freak out.
“What?” I croak as I whirl around to face the source of that fucked-up question.
A tall, muscular woman stands in front of me, holding a rifle with a practised ease that makes me think she must be some kind of ex-military. She looks vaguely familiar, with a strong nose and jaw and hazel eyes framed by thick lashes. Her brown hair is cut short, the frayed tips brushing her wide shoulders.
“I asked how many people you killed during that fight,” she says, her thin lips quirked up into a small smile. “Since you seem pretty good with that bow, I wondered if it was a viable alternative to guns once we run out of bullets.”
I stare at her, lips parted and eyes tight with dismay. Who the fuck walks up to a stranger and asks them how many people they've murdered?
The woman winces at my expression. “Sorry, I suck at talking to civs. I should have led with my name first. I’m Rachel.” She holds out the hand not holding her rifle towards me.
My eyes widen. Holy shit, it’s her! The woman I’ve spent the last two weeks trying to track down and save. I take her hand and shake it. “Well shit. I’m Ollie—Tobias’s sister—and I’ve been looking for you.” No wonder she looks so familiar; she’s Andy’s daughter.
Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “You were?” Her hand tightens around mine.
I bite back a wince as the tiny bones in my hand grind together. Fuck, this woman is strong. “Yeah, I kind of know your dad, Andy. He’s the one that told me what happened with you and my brother and kick-started this entire journey.”
