“Don’t care. We both are.” I tighten my hold, and she doesn’t resist. Instead, she melts into me with a shuddering sigh, showing just how big a toll all this fighting must have taken on her.
Alex limps over, having seen both of us, and without preamble, presses his chest against Ollie’s back and wraps his arms around us both. He’s shaking more than Ollie is and, in the moonlight, I can see the glimmer of tears on his eyelashes.
I grab the back of his head and press his forehead against mine. “You’re not him,” I murmur, knowing exactly where his mind is going. “Remember that. Ollie’s safe, we’re all safe and you did what you had to.”
He blinks at me, surprised. Have I really been such a shitty friend that he’s shocked I’m comforting him? My hand tightens on the back of his head. I need to do better,bebetter, for him and for Ollie.
Ollie shifts until one of her hands clenches my jacket while the other snakes around my back to clutch Alex’s arm, silently comforting us both. Alex’s arms tighten, and he lets out a shuddering sigh, much like the one Ollie did as he relaxes against us and closes his eyes. Silent tears roll down his cheeks, but I don’t say anything.
We stay like that, clinging onto one another as the sounds of grief and exhaustion drift around us.
The squelching of approaching footsteps has me turning my head to the side. Rhys stops a few metres away, gazing at us with pained longing. His eyes meet mine, and he grimaces as I lift my brows at him in expectation. We both know what he needs to do if he wants a chance of experiencing this. He needs to apologise to Ollie and open up to her.
He blinks, and his expression shifts to his usual scowl. “We should get moving before a horde catches wind of the blood.”
I blow out a breath and nod, releasing my hold on Ollie and Alex. The three of us reluctantly pull apart to face the overwhelming death and destruction lying around us.
“How many did we lose?” I ask as I spot a few of our group lingering at a certain body. Tobias is standing off to the side, his jaw set and his eyes haunted, while Simon is standing near the mourning group, alert and watchful of his surroundings. At least we didn’t lose either of them.
Rhys swallows hard, a slight flicker of emotion on his face, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. “I count at least seven, maybe eight, but we won’t know until we get back to the rest of the group.”
Fuck. That’s a lot of people. No wonder Rhys is struggling to keep his emotions in check. He’s probably blaming himself, like the stubborn idiot that he is.
The four of us trudge our way through the mire and bodies to the mourning group, Harlow a silent shadow. I’m not sure where Ketchup flew off to, but Ollie doesn’t seem concerned. Surprisingly, Jerri is among them, silent tears trickling down her cheeks. She has a nasty cut on the side of her face that’s steadily oozing blood and will need medical attention, but otherwise appears unharmed. Even more surprising is the respectful nod she gives to Ollie while ignoring the rest of us.
I turn to Ollie in silent question, but she shakes her head and brushes me off. Guess I’ll have to ask later, when we’re not standing ankle-deep in carnage.
“We should get going,” Rhys says softly to the group. “Before more Scourge or infected find us.”
There are a couple of sniffles and sobs as we help the mourners to their feet. Tobias comes over and hugs his sister, whispering in her ear that he’s grateful she’s okay before helping Simon lead everyone towards where the rest of the group are waiting. Ollie, Alex, Rhys and I linger for a moment before following.
Until Ollie slams to a sudden stop. Ketchup sits on top of a man’s chest, pecking and chirping at him with an inquisitive tilt to her black head.
“Hey, wasn’t that guy at the Lodge?” she asks, frowning down at the bird and corpse.
The three of us stutter to a halt.
“What?” Rhys barks. “Are you sure?”
I shoot him a warning look at his tone that he ignores, his eyes boring into Ollie.
To her credit, she doesn’t even flinch at his snapped voice and instead crouches down to take a better look at the body. It’s difficult to see in the dark and with the layer of muck and gore covering him, so I’m not sure if I recognise him. But if he is…
Then we’re fucked because we’ll suddenly be running from not one gang, buttwo.
“Here,” Alex says, having grabbed a torch from his pack.
Ollie takes it with a small, thankful smile before turning it on and pointing it at the man’s face. “Yes, I recognise him. He was one of the guys standing at the desk when we walked into the hotel.”
Rhys’s scowl deepens. “Shit. I hoped Ethan was just an outlier and that Mark just didn’t know about him.” He turns and gazes across the corpse-strewn field. “How many of these fucks are from the Lodge?” he wonders aloud as he rakes a hand through his hair.
“If there’s more than one? Too many,” Alex says grimly as he follows Rhys’s stare.
I grunt in agreement, my stomach coiled with dread. With two gangs after us, we’re outnumbered and only barely survived this attack with heavy losses. What happens when they mount another one?
Ollie clicks off the torch and straightens, her face pale in the moonlight. “What do we—” She’s cut off by agroan at her feet.
All four of us turn our attention to the man we thought was dead as his head lolls to the side. Ketchup squawks and flutters off the man’s chest to perch on a nearby bush, staring at us with beady black eyes.
