Page 48

Cleo.

Tin crouches and sifts through the forest debris.

“What are you looking for?” I ask.

His gaze lifts and he narrows his eyes. “Cleo ran from here, back toward the Crossroads.”

I don’t see what it is he sees, but I trust his assessment. I think he might know these woods better than most.

“How did you two come to be together anyway?”

A note of jealousy rings out to my ears and my instinct is to amend or retract. But if Tin notices, he doesn’t comment on it.

“I found her in your house.”

“What was she doing?”

“There were two Enders scavenging. She was yelling at them to get out.”

That was very kind of her, even though I had no intention of returning to the house. I’m starting to doubt my ability to get back to Kansas, let alone returning the farmhouse there.

“And then she decided to tag along?” I ask.

He straightens and scans the forest. “No. I made her. She was the only one who knew what you looked like.”

The reminder that he was hunting me should not send my belly spinning.

I must be a glutton for punishment. Not only am I still thinking about Rook, a man who lied to me, fucked me, then stabbed me, now I’m finding myself attracted to the heartless mercenary who tracked me across half of Oz?

If Toto were here, he would be giving me that side-eye look of his that drips with judgment.

Tin shifts, scanning the woods behind us, and his metal arm catches what little light permeates the dark woods. His shirtsleeves are rolled up to the elbows, and every motion he makes causes the muscles and tendons to flex beneath the skin.

There is something about his indifference to everything, even me, that is hard to ignore.

It almost makes me want to impress him more. As if his praise is a currency, and I a beggar for it.

“Come on.” He moves past me. “It’s getting late, so if we want to catch your fortune teller, we should hurry.”

I have no choice but to stumble after him.

We climb down into the dark tunnel. There are several discarded candles there and Tin uses his lighter to catch the wick with flame.

Golden light floods the narrow space, and I blink several times, trying to adjust to the change.

Tin shuts the trap door behind us and then leads the way into the darkness.

When we come to the spot where Rook and I did what we did, I find myself pausing despite my better judgment.

Our prints are pressed into the dirt, an outline of my body into the earthen wall where Rook held me up and I clung to him like a leaf to a branch.

Heat sinks between my legs and butterflies fill my stomach.

What he did is unforgivable. But maybe there’s power in that too. Because now I can take whatever I want from him and not feel guilty about it.

Maybe fucking him in this tunnel was for my pleasure and my pleasure only.

“You’re falling behind,” Tin calls.