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I needn’t have worried, the process of August bringing his arms back to the front proving a slow and painful one. Perhaps I could have found a better way of ensuring he didn’t cut and run. Like barricading him in the locker room. Too late now. What’s done is done.

Once he’d flipped himself over, he leaned back against the wall, picked up the dried meat, and chewed on it. I took a seat on the other bed and watched him, pondering what the faraway expression was about. Plotting revenge? Or something else? “Is your name really August?”

He speared me with his gaze. “Does it matter?”

“Yes!” I surprised myself with the vehemence of my reply. “I’ve spent twenty-four hours calling you by a name that doesn’t belong to you. I’d like to get it right this time.”

August shrugged. “It’s just a name.”

“Says the man who I’m guessing has several.”

“A few,” he admitted. “But if it really matters to you that much, August is my name.”

I nodded, pleased with the information. “Well, August, I won’t say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but it’s certainly been interesting.” I got an eye roll for that. At least now that he was untied, some of the animosity seemed to have seeped out of him. Once he’d finished the first piece of meat, I threw him another.

“Thanks for giving me my food,” he drawled. “Your generosity knows no bounds.”

I didn’t rise to the bait, choosing not to offer a response at all. I fidgeted while he ate, eager to get going. Finally, after what felt a lifetime, August stood and held out his hand. I craned my head back to look up at him. “What?”

“My axe? My knife?”

The bubble of laughter that burst out of me needed no exaggeration. “Right. Keep dreaming.”

“They’re my weapons.”

“And you’ll get them back on delivery of the suppressants.” The thin line of August’s mouth said all that needed to be said about his feelings on the subject. I stood and made my way over to the door, leaning against the jamb. “You only have yourself to blame. I was willing to trade with you.”

August shouldered his way past me. “No, you weren’t.”

I caught up with him by the fire engine, where he was busy collecting up all the possessions I’d left strewn all over the floor and stuffing them back into the bag. “What do you mean?”

“That ring means something to you. If it didn’t, you would have used it for payment on the first night instead of following me and breaking into my hotel room. You always intended to find a way of getting what you wanted without having to let go of it.”

I could deny it, but I suspected my expression would give me away. “If you knew that, then why agree to let me come along?”

Possessions now back in the bag, August straightened and heaved it over his shoulder. “Because I didn’t know it then. I worked it out last night from how angry you got.”

“I wasn’t angry.”

“Bullshit, you weren’t.”

Picking up my bag—heavier now with the axe inside—and my crossbow, I followed as he bent to squeeze through the gap. “I was pissed. I wasn’t angry. There’s a difference.” After crawling under the barrier myself, I waited while August retrieved his bike from its hiding place. “Don’t even think about it,” I warned as he threw his leg across the seat.

“Get on then, before I remember how easy it is to source another axe and knife, and the temptation becomes too much.”

I got on, not needing to be asked this time to wrap my arms around August’s middle. He was far stiffer and unyielding than the day before, but I supposed that was to be expected, given everything that had passed between us. The question I kept returning to was whether he was more annoyed that I’d tied him up or that I’d forced him to reveal his real name. I had a feeling it was the latter that stung more—he was too tough to let a little physical discomfort bother him, but mental fortitude was a completely different matter. I knew that better than anyone.

In the army, there’d been nothing but physical discomfort. Hard days spent yomping across great distances. Never enough to eat. Weather that veered from one extreme to the other, often within the same day. And that was before you considered the physical toll that taking on hordes of biters day after day took on you.

We’d taken all of that in our stride as part of the job that fed and clothed us and sometimes put a roof over our heads. Losing a comrade, though. That was what hit you for six. That was what had you tossing and turning in your bunk no matter how exhausted you were. Yeah, a mental struggle was always more difficult.

“August?” I had to shout to be heard over the wind. I’d gotten used to the bike now. Maybe I could find one somewhere. It couldn’t be that difficult to learn to ride one.

“What?”

“I’m sorry I tied you up. It was the wrong thing to do. You should take it as a compliment, though.”

“How do you work that one out?”