The man stilled and held his hands up once again. “I'm no harm to you. It was just the three of us, no more.”
“He's telling the truth,” I murmured, flicking a glance at Ryker’s white-knuckled grip. “We should let him go.”
Muddy brown eyes briefly met mine, confused and calculating, before returning to the deadly arrow tip. “Your girl is smart. Maybe you should listen to her. Besides, I realize now that I made a mistake. I didn't see your tattoo earlier. That makes us—”
His last word ended in a wet gurgle. He clutched at the arrow lodged in his neck with fear-filled eyes. I stared as blood spurted from the new wound, for a moment not comprehending. Then I whipped my head toward Ryker. The first thing I noted was his calm, almost bored expression. Then I saw his unloaded bow.
My blood pumped hot and heavy, rage flooding me at the casual way he’d ended a life. I knew that the bearded man would bleed out in seconds, the arrow having pierced an artery. Surging forward, I shoved Ryker’s chest. Not expecting my attack, he stumbled. His feet tangled in a tree root and he fell with a thud.
“Why?” I shouted as I kicked his leg. His grunt of pain sent adrenaline coursing through my veins. Yes, feel the pain, you cold-hearted murderer. “He was defenseless. Why did you kill him?” I kicked at him again, but this time, he was ready for it.
He grabbed my boot and yanked. My other foot slid out from underneath me. My tailbone took the brunt of the fall and I stilled as sharp rods of pain raced up my spine. Crap, that hurt. He was up and out of kicking range before I could refill my lungs.
With crossed arms, he glared down at me like I was a pesky gnat that wouldn’t go away. He waited a beat, probably making sure I wouldn't attack him again. I arched a brow and placed one leg over the other as if settling in for a nap. Blowing out a breath, he held my accusatory gaze. “Here's what you need to know before you judge me: I was raised out here up until two years ago. You learn pretty fast that you can't trust anybody, especially the ones who stalk you through the woods.”
His words struck a chord deep inside me. They reminded me of my first encounter with the Recruiter Clan eleven years ago. With Bren. Too bad I had been stupid and naive back then, my only thought on gaining a friend.
Ryker continued, jabbing a finger at the two dead bodies. “These men would have stolen our belongings at the very least. Killed us at the very most.” His eyes narrowed on mine, darkening. “Then again, there are worse things than death.”
My mind blanked. No, I wouldn't think about what could have happened if we'd been caught unaware. I might not make it through this mission, otherwise.
“So why couldn't you have just left him? He was injured and alone. There's no way he could have pursued us farther.”
Ryker laughed humorlessly, shaking his head. “He's part of a larger group. The one you let get away will seek help. Soon, this place will be crawling with people bent on vengeance, and we don't need anyone describing our faces to them—namely mine. That's why he had to die, and that's why we have to leave. Right now. Let's go.”
He repositioned his backpack and bow and stalked off through the woods, once again not bothering to see if I followed. My body remained frozen with indecision. Briefly glancing at the bodies, I steeled my spine, knowing there was no way I could bury them. Hopefully Ryker was right and their people would find them.
Ryker.
Goosebumps skittered down my arms.
Was I really going to follow a murderer?
He was unleashed. Wildly unpredictable. Not much different than the mutated beasts that I feared. Maybe I should grow a healthy fear of him as well. What if I got in his way and he decided to kill me next?
My neck wouldn't stop bleeding.
I really needed to clean the cut but could barely keep up with Ryker’s long strides as it was. We were traveling north again, this time off-road. Normally, I was steady on my feet, but with a hand pressed to my wound and tree roots hidden beneath the thin blanket of snow, I kept tripping.
Ryker stopped abruptly. I watched warily as his hands formed tight fists. Finally, I caught up with him and stood several feet away, just in case. I never knew what to expect of him, so a cautionary distance was a smart idea.
“Take care of your cut,” he said. What? I didn't think he’d noticed. “Do it quickly before an animal smells the blood or more of those men find us. We’re still in their territory.”
A retort was at the tip of my tongue, but it vanished when my brain latched onto that last word. Territory. I unstrapped my backpack and rummaged around for the first aid kit. I hadn’t expected to be needing it this soon. “Whose territory?”
I didn’t think he’d reply, too busy chewing a hangnail on his thumb. But he muttered, “The Recruiter Clan.”
My blood ran cold. They were here? So close to Tatum City? I supposed it made sense since they worked for Renold, but . . .
The kit almost flew from my grasp as my trembling fingers ripped the top open. Several tries later, I managed to secure a bandage, then shoved the kit into my pack in record time. “Done. Let’s go.” I stood and began marching north. Ryker didn’t follow. I whirled and barked, “What?”
He remained still. Staring at me. Studying. Heat crept up my neck at the bold perusal. “They said you were tough,” he finally replied. Was this his version of small talk?
“I guess it depends on your definition of tough,” I replied, sarcasm leaking into my tone.
“They also said you were weak,” he continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “And I’m inclined to agree. You can’t be strong without first being smart, and it was a stupid move not to clean your cut before bandaging it. Now, do it again the right way.”
He just called me weak. And stupid.
I felt a shift inside of me, a spark that ignited whenever someone dared call me such things. Without the weight of Tatum City on my shoulders, I let the inferno build. Imagined fire bursting from my eyes, hurtling toward Ryker and burning him to cinders. His remains scattered over the snow. How was that for weak?
I blinked only to find the rude man still standing. Alive and whole. With a thump, my backpack hit the ground and I bent over it, seeking out the kit once more. I’m going to flay and roast him. With my teeth tightly clenched, I jabbed rubbing alcohol into the wound. Then I’ll feed him to the wild animals.
After that, we traveled in complete silence. The rural landscape—whites and browns and emerald greens—gradually gave way to more and more buildings, mostly pale gray and crumbling. Deserted. Some were taller than Tatum House. The structures were eerie, missing their doors and windows. Creepier still were the large, once-colorful words looping across the exteriors. The sprawling script looked angry, as if warning us away. But their spellings made little sense to me.
B-A-N-K.
G-A-S S-T-A-T-I-O-N.
From the dark interiors, anything—or anyone—could be watching.
Exposed. We were too exposed.
All was silent except for two pairs of boots crunching on snow. The road was uneven where roots pushed apart the broken asphalt. Then there were the abandoned cars. Some were positioned in the middle of the street. When the Silent War happened, the one that destroyed the majority of life a century ago, the cars’ owners had probably died right then and there. Every time we passed by one, I quickly peered through its broken windows, expecting to see a skeleton inside. My hands itched, desperate to hold my twin daggers or bow.
“Where is everyone?” I asked Ryker.
He whipped his head around, pinning me with a glare. We both stopped. And had a stare down. I'm not looking away first, buddy. After several seconds, he slowly exhaled through his nose and closed his eyes, as if I were the most annoying person on the planet and he couldn't believe his bad luck at getting stuck with me. Ha! At least I won the staring contest.
His reply came out hushed; I had to lean forward to catch all the words. “Rule number one out here: don't go looking for other people. If someone approaches you, find a p
lace to hide until they leave. Most people live in groups, and if you stumble on the wrong one, well . . .” He snorted. “Use your imagination.”
I stifled the urge to roll my eyes. He sounded just like my mum, spouting off cryptic rules. And then a thought zapped me. “Isn’t Renold going to be mad that you killed members of the Recruiter Clan? They work for him after all.”
A deep crease bisected his heavy brows. “It doesn’t work that way out here. The strong survive. He has no use for the weak.” For a split second, I could have sworn blue fire flashed in his eyes, then it was gone. He dragged a hand through his short-cropped hair. “Stay close. It's easy to get lost in this rat-maze city. And don't speak. We don't want any curious—or hostile—visitors.” With that, he continued down the street.
I stared at his back. Then stuck out my tongue. He was so bossy. His head turned around yet again and I quickly pulled my tongue in. Those piercing eyes narrowed on my face. Did he catch me mocking him? My brow arched as I dared him to chastise me. He jerked his chin once, ordering me to follow, then strode off.
Two hotheads traveling together through dangerous territory. Nothing disastrous about that combination. No, not at all.
Minutes ticked by, then Ryker veered right, taking us in a northeasterly direction. Did he have a compass inside his head? I was chewing a hole in my cheek in my quest to keep silent. Questions burned on the tip of my tongue, like how he knew where to go. I couldn't see a single footprint in the snow except ours.
I needed a break soon. My stomach growled, reminding me that it hadn't been fed since early morning. And then I’d thrown everything up when Renold had given me that blue box. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the image of thumbs rolling across cement to dissipate before I threw up again. My lashes fluttered as I searched for the sun but only found a wall of puffy gray clouds laden with snow. It was mid-afternoon, I guessed.
We weren't making good time. Ryker wove in odd crisscross patterns, sometimes circling around buildings before heading north again. I remained quiet, his dogged little shadow. If Renold wanted him on this mission, then I would put up with him.
For now.
But if he showed any signs of going rabid wolf on me, I would put him down.
Another half hour trudged by. With every step, my bladder reminded me of its fullness while my stomach reminded me of its emptiness. I opened my mouth to call for a break but no sound came. Warmth pricked my cheeks. For some reason, I was too embarrassed to tell Ryker that I needed to pee.
I cursed my stupidity. We would know all about each other's daily habits in no time, but I didn't want to be the first to admit basic human needs. Ugh. This was so idiotic.
Taking a deep breath, I charged off the path. A large stretch of land opened up, baring dozens of cars positioned in neat rows. I skirted around them instead of cutting through, still creeped out at the thought of skeletons lurking inside. To the left was a long, flat building with several gaping doors devoid of glass. I walked along the windowless side, making for a dense patch of foliage in the back.
The perfect place to relieve my aching bladder.
Just as I waded through the first bush, a guttural voice practically thundered in my ear, “What are you doing?”
In less than a second, my daggers were in my hands, aiming for Ryker. We both froze, eyes locked as the blades pressed against his throat in an X, one of them grazing his black moon and claw tattoo. With my heart tripping wildly, I said, “Let’s get one thing perfectly straight: never sneak up on me.”
At the threat, Ryker gave me a bored look as if I were holding dull butter knives to his neck. “I’ll ask again: what are you doing? Because it looks a lot like you’re trying to ditch me and I would heavily advise against that.”
“I have to pee, you nosy pervert. And why can’t I ditch you? Sounds like a solid plan to me. Thanks for the tip.”
His lips curled into what could be called a smile. It was scary, whatever it was. “Because I’m your ticket back inside Tatum City, that’s why. And I hear there’s someone you left behind.”
Had he listened in on my last conversation with Renold? Rage stole over me and I growled. His answering snarl almost made me wet myself.
With his face mere inches from mine, I could see his eyes swirling like storm clouds. We stayed like that, seething through bared teeth, forever. In reality, it wasn’t more than half a minute, but it felt like time had decided to stop. Lucky me.
Finally, the words almost indecipherable, he ground out, “You scared of me?”
“No,” was my immediate reply. Yet my heart flapped like a trapped bird.
He leaned into the blades and whispered, “You should be.”
Crap.
With a casual glance at the deadly knives digging into his throat, he pulled away and strode back toward the road. As he turned the building’s corner, I heard him say, “You have three minutes. If you're not back by then, I'm coming in after you.”
That was so not going to happen.
I took off through the brush, still clutching my daggers in case I ran into something more unpleasant than Ryker—if that was possible. He did scare me, I begrudgingly admitted to myself. He had predatory eyes and they were currently fixated on me.
An ache pulsed over my heart and I rubbed at the spot with my knuckles. I had become so used to Bren watching my back. Now, I was alone and vulnerable. I missed him. His teasing grin, the way he watched me—not like a predator, but like he’d found something special he didn’t want to lose. No. No. He couldn’t be trusted. Who knew what his mission was and to what ends he’d go to complete it?
And . . .
I might have to kill him.
Focus. Focus, you idiot. If you lose sight of your mission, you’ll never see Iris again.
In record time, I finished emptying my bladder. There was no way I’d let Ryker catch me with my pants down. I buttoned them, then dug into my pack for food, unwrapping a chunk of bread. After shoving the bread partway into my mouth, I grabbed my two daggers that I’d stuck into the ground while squatting.
Keep your weapons close. Even closer when you're awkwardly peeing in the woods.
Then I heard a twig snap.
Silently pressing my back to the nearest tree, I listened for further movement. Was that Ryker? Had he been spying on me? A blend of anger and humiliation churned in my gut, hot and nauseating. Not a good combination. He would pay for this. I was going to make this mission impossible—
An animalistic growl from behind me sent goosebumps springing over my body. Nope, not Ryker. I was fairly certain of it. I peered around the tree and caught sight of a massive tan paw. Holding in a squeak, I hid behind the trunk once more.
No, no, anything but that.
A saber cat.
I hadn’t seen the rest of the body, but I couldn’t imagine what else it could be.
Of their own volition, my fingers sheathed the daggers and unslung my bow. Old habits. Instinct. Thank the stars. I had never fought a beast with my knives before. Smarter to stick with what I knew. I waited for the inevitable claw of fear to take hold. There it was, climbing up my throat, settling right behind my tongue. I couldn't swallow, let alone speak. I could barely breathe past the bread still wedged between my teeth.
My hands shook as I prepared to shoot the mystery animal. Would one arrow be enough? Scurrying paws headed in my direction. No, I’m not ready! I leapt into the open, prepared to shoot, but the beast was already too close. A furry beige blur. It jumped. Paws as big as my head landed on my chest, and the heavy weight bowled me over backward.
The force of the landing ripped my breath away. I widened my eyes, horrified as sharp teeth descended. The canines should be much longer though. The animal—maybe not a saber cat after all—went for my jugular and I was too shocked to move. I heard the tearing of my fragile flesh as . . .
Wait. It was biting into my bread.
I tried shoving the animal’s chest, but it was determined, tugging at the food as my h
ead thrashed side to side. Enraged, muffled growls left my throat as I struggled to push the massive form off me and claim the remaining bit of bread.
In the midst of the chaos, some insane corner of my mind bellowed, Foul beast! No one takes my food! My boot lashed out and caught it in the belly. The animal snarled, baring dozens of pointy teeth.
Stars help me.
“Give it to him.”
I froze. So did the beast. One of its black ears swiveled toward the sound of Ryker’s calm voice. Why wasn't he shooting it? Didn't he see that I was about to become a meal?
“Give him the bread. He's just hungry.”
What! Is he serious right now? Yes, the beast wants to feast on my flesh!
As my heart beat out of my chest, I slowly lifted a hand to my mouth. The beast zeroed in on the movement and I waited for its dark maw to chomp down on my fingers. Nothing happened. The animal waited, its yellow eyes filled with hunger and keen intelligence. I pinched the last of the bread between two fingers and offered up the morsel.
Before I could so much as twitch, the food was snatched away. Pressure eased from my chest as the beast stepped to the side, devouring my lunch. I finally took my first full breath. Air shuddered out of me as I realized how close I'd just come to death.
“You injured?” Ryker asked, still looking far too relaxed. He didn’t even have his bow ready.
I shook my head. Though, I had no idea because I couldn’t feel my limbs. What had just happened? How was I still alive?
He was staring at the beast now, so I did too. It was a . . . dog. A huge one. A mangy one. But still a dog. I wanted to slap my forehead. Then bury myself. What had Ryker thought of my reaction? He better not say anything.
He whistled and the dog’s head snapped up.
“Are you crazy?” I hissed, and slowly rose to my feet in case he came back for seconds. The animal watched us, ears pricked forward as it finished the bread. From a distance, I noted the paws were more the size of my hands, not my face. I didn't recognize the breed. “What kind of dog is it?”
“Probably a mutt. Looks like a mix of German Shepherd and Alaskan Malamute. Maybe some wolf.”
Adaptive: A Young Adult Dystopian Romance (The Elite Trials Book 2) Page 2
