Awakened, Alexandra watched them, her eyes narrow.
“We don’t want to be alone anymore,” Eloise whispered. “We want to find our other boy.”
Kat suspected that the Delacroixs’ lack of light had also played a big part in their return. Without flashlights, every little sound would be magnified: every clap of thunder, every slap of rain, every cry of the wind.
But she never did answer them, because they all fell back asleep, exhausted before Kat could think of the right words. The family must’ve been scared out of their noggins to slink back to the group like this. But how long would their willing attitudes last?
Minutes later, Chris and Duke were awake and aware of the Delacroixs.
“They just came back to get your help?” Duke asked sadly.
The family hadn’t said that they had come back to be with Duke, Kat thought. They weren’t here for him.
“Can’t we just go to the other shelter?” Chris whispered, staring at the Delacroixs. “The one the captain went to?”
The edges of Duke’s mouth turned down. Kat wondered if he was reacting to the mention of Will. Or did he want to stay and make amends with the family? Maybe Kat’s anxiety about making amends with Will showed. Or maybe they could tell that she didn’t necessarily believe that things were a hundred percent safer with him.
Anyway, she hesitated, weighing their options, since she didn’t trust the Delacroixs anymore than Chris did.
“We’ve got to get away from them,” the boy said. “Please, Kat?”
Duke closed his eyes. A tear slipped down his weathered face. “Chris is right. Now that we have the option of another decent shelter, we should go there…separate ourselves.”
But before she could acknowledge that might not be a bad idea if it made them feel safer—after all, she’d be there to watch over them—Duke was talking again.
“How can I convince you, Kat? How much would it take? When we get home, I can see to it that you get that five percent. You’ll have everything you ever wanted.”
She tilted her head, absorbing his meaning. “Are you bribing me to guard you or something?”
Duke didn’t say anything.
“You don’t think I would’ve helped you anyway? Duke, even if I’d consider the extra incentive—which I won’t—you can’t just go around buying people.”
He gave her a look that clearly said, But I’ve made a living at it.
All of Kat’s fears resurfaced. Was she just one of his investments after all?
In the wake of his love confession, her relationship with him had stretched at the seams. Now, a thread of her fondness for him popped and broke, weakening memories of the man she’d known back home.
Or was she overreacting? Was she making a tsunami out of a swell?
“I’ll take you,” she said, “because I care for you two. I want you to be safe.”
“Thank you, Kat!” Chris hugged her. From the force of his embrace, Kat realized how relatively drained she was. A lack of food and sleep was squeezing her dry.
But there was no time for excuses. They had to get fire. More food. She could do that at Will’s shelter, if she needed to.
“Let’s go,” she said, avoiding Duke’s bleary, searching gaze. She couldn’t meet it—not after he’d thrown her such a curveball.
They gathered those possessions they considered theirs, taking care not to disturb the others while she awakened Tinkerbell, who was sacked out next to Larry’s empty spot. He’d probably gone to the bathroom or something. Wanting to avoid a confrontation with the Delacroixs, even though it would come at some point, they left the shelter and covered themselves from the rain. Kat looked back only once. Alexandra was watching them go, her eyes blinking against the gray light.
Mud sucked at their feet and strange cries from the greenery paced them. Duke could barely move, so Kat made like a human crutch again and helped him walk while holding a club in her other hand.
Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she heard something behind them. A rustle of foliage? Footsteps? Or maybe it was just the rain.
When they got to Will’s shelter, he wasn’t there. Neither was the flashlight. The rest of his stuff was bundled in a corner, covering the hilt of a steak knife. For all she knew, more blades could’ve been under the small stash, but Kat guessed that Will had probably taken at least one for protection.
Kat eased Duke to the ground for some sleep while Chris set their belongings close by and busied himself with unpacking, soon relocating across the shelter. Fanged butterflies abraded the lining of Kat’s stomach as they waited for Will’s return. Had she done permanent damage to their relationship? How could she justify her lack of trust?
To distract herself, she started to undo a strand from the rope lying on the floor. With this, an anchor stone and one of those slim pieces of wood from the cave, maybe she could get a fire going, bow-and-stick style. She stuffed the strand in her shorts pocket.
Out of the gray, a crash of lightning and thunder screeched, and, in the distance, something crashed. A tree?
She barely heard what happened next: A nearby cry of horrendous pain.
Whipping around, she found Duke, mouth contorted, eyes bugged out. He was holding his thigh.
Where a knife was sticking out.
“Duke!”
Both Kat and Chris rocketed over to him. It felt like she couldn’t get there quick enough, her feet moving in slow motion while her vision scrambled in fast forward.
Who…what…?
Blood fizzing, she wildly glanced around, seeing only the surrounding foliage moving restlessly. Mockingly.
Instantly, her attention was back on Duke, to where Chris was shielding him with his own body.
God, how would she be able to get this blade out of him without causing more pain?
Before she came up with an answer, something even more obvious hit her.
The weapon.
It was one of Will’s steak knives.
One of the possessions he’d taken with him when he’d left last night.
They were all back in the original shelter, minus Will, who was still missing. After Kat had carefully removed the knife from Duke—finding the blade had wrought minimal damage, thank God—she’d done her best to staunch the flow of blood and wrap the wound with some wet clothing she’d found. At that point, she’d thought it vital that everyone group together for safety instead of scattering.
More importantly, though, she wanted to ask some questions.
“Did anyone besides Larry leave the shelter and come back?” Kat had her hands on her hips, pissed as hell. Tink had vouched for Larry’s return soon after Kat had left with Chris and Duke, so they were square on that point—even if Larry’s whereabouts still niggled at her. “And don’t bullshit me, now. One of you had to have seen something.”
“I went back to sleep,” Alexandra said, glancing around warily.
Was she lying to cover herself? If she wasn’t, then no one would’ve been awake to witness the attacker sneaking out to follow Kat, Chris and Duke, since Tink and Larry had supposedly fallen right back asleep, too.
But how would that person have gotten Will’s knife?
She was trying to not think about that, and they all seemed to know it.
“Not to point out the obvious,” Dr. Hopkins said from her isolated corner, “but the rest of us were here, and it was the captain’s weapon. And no one has seen him for hours.”
“Anyone could’ve gotten ahold of Will’s knife,” Kat said.
Tinkerbell, who’d torn off part of Duke’s pants and was tending to him with what was left of the first aid kit, stuffed a bloodied piece of gauze into an empty chip bag in disgust, rolling it closed. “The captain wouldn’t throw knives at people from the bushes anyway. Lay off him.”
“Well, someone did it.” Louis’s eyes went glossy with sorrow. “And I know a lot of you might believe that my family is responsible for making an attempt on Duke’s or Chris’s life, but wha
t about Duffy? You could not possibly believe we would hurt him. We are not the culprits, here.”
The whisking sound of blade over wood cut through the silence. Kat turned to find Larry fashioning a pointed stick with the knife that had been lodged in Duke.
Kat’s suspicions boiled again.
“What’re you saying, Mr. Delacroix?” Larry shot a contained glare at Louis.
The man’s face went red. “I am saying that there is a person here who needs to be brought to justice. The same person who sabotaged the shark cage, the one who threw a knife at my father-in-law.” A sob escaped him, though he battled to hold it back. “The animal who killed Duffy and maybe even Nestor, too.”
It was as if a dam had broken inside Alexandra. Without warning, she sputtered into tears, covering her face and bowing her head, her body convulsing.
Out of pure instinct, Kat went to her. The other woman didn’t draw away as she might have done back on the boat—back in that other world. Instead, Alexandra looked up at Kat, anguish spearing through her blue irises like white streaks of melting snow.
Kat tried not to dwell on all the theories swirling around her head. Tried not to picture Will and Alexandra conspiring together. Or him making plans to win over Kat, Duke’s suggested five-percent heir, with every ounce of charm he had. She tried not to think of him making love to her with an agenda—the possible assurance of a fortune that would set him back up in society. She tried not to imagine him hiding among the foliage and winging that knife at Duke, missing the killing blow and then dodging away, furious at his failure.
Was this forced isolation causing her to go nuts? Was it warping all her judgment?
While Alexandra looked at Kat, her mouth trembled as a smile emerged. A real smile, Kat thought.
Then she dissolved into tears again, the former ice queen crumbling to chipped pieces.
Finally, Kat thought. She’s human.
Unless she was just putting on some kind of show.
Repelled by her unchecked skepticism, Kat stayed at the woman’s side, proving that she was bigger than fear.
Duke, prone and pale, turned on his side and began to retch into an empty container. Chris scooted over to his grandfather, his hand on the older man’s back until Duke stopped.
“There’s just one thing I keep asking myself,” Dr. Hopkins said, drawing everyone’s attention from the scene. “Where is the captain?”
And they were off again, speculations, accusations. As Kat’s nerves frayed to dust, she listened, weighed the comments while Will stayed ahead in the race for best suspect. The evidence got to the point where even Larry looked a little anxious.
Tinkerbell might’ve been the last vocal Captain Will Ashton supporter in the room. She cursed at everyone and got to her feet, starting back to her seat next to Dr. Hopkins.
“I swear,” the redhead said, “you’ve been drinking jungle juice if you think the captain has it in him.”
As she walked past the opening of the back cave, something caught Kat’s attention.
Faint, almost dimmed by the darkness.
Red eyes.
Deliberately, Kat got to her feet, but not before the eyes got closer. A sort of inhuman snort bounced off the rock of their shelter, vibrating over the splatter of rain outside.
“Tink,” Kat said, “don’t move.”
Too late. It crept closer, nearing the cave opening. Kat pointed there, and everyone looked. Slowly, they each tore their gazes away, eyes seeking Kat once again.
Hushed terror strung them all together in motionless agreement. No one flinched. Kat could barely make out a creature with bristly dark fur and a straight tail. Its ears stood alert.
A wild boar?
It wasn’t really big—probably a youngster—but that didn’t matter. In general, Kat had heard they were perilous and fast. And if this was a baby, Mom might be close by. And she’d be one ticked-off, protective, hefty lady.
Kat scanned the outer shelter, taking stock of the group. They were all weaponless. But three feet away, there was a long screwdriver. It was near Louis, who was directly in the beast’s path.
Kat’s knife seemed to weigh down her left side.
In spite of the act she’d put on for everyone else, did she actually have the guts to use it?
No chance to think anymore because, before Kat’s next strained breath, the boar had bounded into the shelter.
Kat dove for the screwdriver, skidding in the dirt, pushing it at Louis.
“Use it!” she yelled.
He picked it up and scuttled away from the boar.
Almost everyone scrambled, clearing the shelter area, except for the wounded Duke and Chris, in the corner. The young teen brandished a wooden club to keep the boar away from his grandfather. Even Dr. Hopkins and her useless hands had managed to scoot away to the far ledge.
But it was happening too fast. In the confusion, Kat bounded away from the animal while it circled the shelter and locked onto Tinkerbell.
Who still had blood from Duke’s wound on her hands.
A flash of lightning escorted Kat to the only place the boar wasn’t—the deep, dark cave from which the beast had come. There were other survivors running into the opening, then the network of tunnels spreading out in all directions.
Mindlessly searching for safety, their bodies pressing against Kat’s in the yawning blackness, screaming for their lives.
When a frenzied grunt from the boar invaded the tunnel, everyone separated, leaving Kat in darkness, like that of the deepest water. A black place of terrifying isolation.
Where was it? Had it gotten anyone?
Kat unsheathed her knife, sweat making her palms slippery. The heartbeats of a million fears flooded her temples. Dark, so dark.
Someone was crying for help. God, someone…in trouble.
And Kat had a weapon.
Self-preservation sounded so right. It was only reasonable to stay out of the way.
But something her dad the soldier had told her time and again came back to Kat.
Inside every person is a coward, he’d said, smiling at her because he knew that wasn’t the kind of girl he wanted to raise. And it’s up to that individual to do what they can with it. Because, in the end, that coward could haunt you…if you don’t kill it first.
A woman screamed, shaking Kat back into the horror of cold tunnel walls, reverberating pleas and utter blindness.
Sucking in a breath to sustain her, Kat flattened one hand on the rock. Then, she took her first step toward the screaming.
Ba-bump, ba-bump. Her pulse flashed through her head.
Another scream. Which way was it coming from? Near the shelter? Or from the depths of the tunnels?
She wanted to yell, just to let the other person know she was coming. But what if she attracted the boar?
Trailing her hand along the wall, Kat continued, her breathing keeping time with a drip, drip from somewhere above.
“Help!”
Closer.
I’m coming, she thought. I’ll be there soon.
Ba-bump…
Then, another frantic shout.
From another direction.
“No, no, nooooooo!”
The acoustics were playing mind games. Which way was the victim screaming from? Should Kat go right or left…?
A death keel from the right drew Kat into action. The sounds of snarling and grunting confirmed where she needed to go. Pumping up her pace, she held the knife ready in one hand and trailed the other along the wall for guidance.
Light ahead, around the corner. Or were her eyes playing tricks, too?
Dim, dim, light—
The screams abruptly stopped, but the grunting continued.
Kat turned the corner into a foreign cave, open to the rain.
And stopped when she saw what was in the faint light.
The boar was rooting at Tinkerbell’s neck. Kat could see her red head bobbing as she thrashed in a silent scream. The woman was beating its skull
with a rock, trying to push the creature off of her. But all she was doing was pushing it toward the ground, the movement of its tusks tearing her into movement too.
Fear and strength crashed together in Kat, a wave flaring against the rocky shore and destroying everything in its path.
Including the everyday coward.
With a yell, Kat flew at the boar, knife poised. Its throat gleamed like a target and, with all the stamina she had—something almost superhuman in this moment of terror—she drove the blade through the creature’s trachea.
It spazzed, its squeal hoarse as it bit at her. Kat jerked away from the bloody teeth and yanked the knife out from the tough hide. The blade sucked out of the wound. Spurts of blood hit her like bullets as the animal shook its head.
There was no sound from Tinkerbell now, but Kat barely registered that fact. Instead, she became aware of someone else screaming behind her, running forward and jumping onto the boar’s neck.
Louis?
He seemed possessed, using his designer shoe heels to stamp on the animal’s face, keeping it from biting Kat.
Instead, it was biting him. But Louis kept kicking, his expensive slacks tearing, his cries of pain splitting the air.
Knowing this was her only chance, Kat went at the boar again, mindless with the rabid instinct to survive. She stabbed and stabbed its throat, figuring that the first try had worked so she should go with a proven thing.
The knife sunk into flesh, bloodying her hands.
Leave…us…alone!
Every thrust was an attempt to save herself from what was happening on this island. She wasn’t just killing Tinkerbell’s predator; she was keeping everyone safe. Kick, stab, Kick…She was so afraid to stop because it might start up again.
Louis had fallen to his knees. He yelled like a warrior, forcing the screwdriver into the boar’s eyes.
But the animal wasn’t attacking anymore. It wasn’t…
Kat stopped, stunned at having so lost control.
Her lungs heaved. She scrambled away from the creature, knife in the air for another strike.
But it didn’t move. Tink didn’t move.
Kat stopped Louis. “I think it’s dead.”
She didn’t know how long she hesitated, holding his wrist and listening for the boar’s breath. It never came. Blood covered her, hot and coppery.
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