Her eyebrows shoot upward, but she doesn’t let up her grip on my hand. “My dad? Is he okay? And what about my partner, Tamsin?”
If she keeps squeezing my hand like that, she’s going to break it. “Your dad was fine when I last saw him, and he said Tamsin was heading towards the same settlement the guys I’m travelling with are from.”Please let go of my hand.
Rachel yanks me towards her, drops my hand, and wraps her arms around me. I just about get the bundle of arrows in my hand out of the way in time to not stab her or myself as she crushes me against her chest. Her hold is so tight that my spine and ribs pop, and I struggle to breathe as the hard metal and plastic of her rifle digs into my stomach.
Oh fuck. This isn’t what I meant when I wanted her to let go of my hand. How is this womanso strong?
Rachel must hear my wheezing because she lightens her hold with a curse. “Sorry, sorry,” she says, patting my arm with a sheepish expression. “Tamsin says I’m too enthusiastic for my own good sometimes.”
Harlow whines and tries to shove herself between us, apparently not pleased about being left out of the hug. The other woman grins down at the dog and disentangles herself from me to scratch behind Harlow’s ear. The dog immediately groans and pushes further into Rachel’s hand.
I rub my aching ribs and roll my eyes at her antics. The dog is a slut for pets. “Rachel, meet Harlow.”
“You’re gorgeous, Harlow,” Rachel coos as she continues to fuss her, much to Harlow’s delight if her thumping back leg is anything to go by. After a while, Rachel stands and turns her attention back to me. “I want to thank you for your help in freeing us. Without you and the other guys, we would have lost a lot more people.”
I wave her off even as her gratitude warms my chest and eases some of my guilt. “I didn’t do much; I was just the distraction. Rhys and Theo are the ones who did the heavy lifting.” They were the ones who snuck into the camp and convinced the captives to help us. Plus, if they hadn’t taken down those watchtowers, we would have been in a world of trouble thanks to the rifles they had.
“Don’t sell yourself short like that. Judging from the number of arrows you’ve collected, you did more than just serve as a distraction.” She shoots a meaningful look at the bundle of bloodied arrows still clutched in my hand.
I bite back a grimace at the reminder that I took my fair share of lives during the fight. “Sure,” I say as gaze around the camp-turned-war-zone to distract myself from the dark turn of my thoughts.
Bean is where I left her, munching on grass off to one side, with Ketchup, the magpie I sort of adopted, sitting on top of the saddle preening herself. People are filtering in from various buildings, all laden with supplies. Some carry bulging plastic bags while others clutch weapons against their chest and some even have various clothing items and blankets draped over their arms. At least they took Rhys’s instructions seriously when he told them to grab supplies.
“Damn. That was a quick fifteen minutes,” Rachel mutters beside me, having also watched the other captives move towards the guys.
I glance over at her. “Didn’t you want to get some supplies for the journey?” All she has is the rifle and the tattered clothes on her back.
She shakes her head. “Nah. I’m much more useful standing watch out here than panic-shoving things into a bag. Besides, judging from how much shit everyone has, there’ll be enough for me.”
She’s not wrong. The group has amassed a huge amount of supplies considering they only had fifteen minutes. Hopefully, it’ll be enough for the long journey ahead.
I turn away from the crowd and stride over to the next corpse with an arrow sticking out of it. It’s often hard to identify if the bodies werezombies in death since a lot of the guards ended up turning during the fight. This corpse, however, is half-rotted, making it obvious that this was a zombie. While killing the undead has become easier, there’s still a twinge of guilt as I yank the arrow free from the corpse’s skull.
“I didn’t realise you’d got so good with that bow,” a familiar voice says behind me.
I jerk around to find my brother, Tobias, standing behind me.
In the early morning sunlight, he looks older. The strands of hair at his temples are greyer than they were before, and there are more wrinkles on his dirty, gaunt face. His clothes are nothing more than filthy rags that hang off his shoulders, highlighting just how much weight he’s lost in the few weeks he’s been gone.
I tilt my head as I spot a double-barrelled shotgun in his hands. Since when does he know how to shoot?
He follows my gaze and shrugs. “Survival is hell of a motivator,” he says, understanding my silent question.
“Right.” I shift awkwardly on my feet.
Now that the adrenaline from the fight and the crushing relief of finally saving him is gone, I don’t know how to act around him. It’s only been a few weeks, but so much has happened that it makes those weeks feel like years. I’ve changed, I know I have, and I’m sure he has too.
His forehead wrinkles as he glances down at the corpse at my feet. “I see the same thing happened with you, too.”
I shrug one shoulder. “Sort of.”
God, why is this so awkward? He’s my brother, my only living family left. I should be... well, not normal, but not whatever the hell this is.
His lips twitch as like can read my internal freak-out. “Come on, Liv. I think your boys are ready for all of us to get out of this hellhole.”
“They’re not my boys.”
“Sure they aren’t.” He chuckles as he strides off towards them.
