Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
That’s what she’s doing to us. She’s trying to weaken us, one nonlethal blow at a time. The storm and its destruction of our camp, picking off our people one at a time, firing flaming arrows into our camp. She’s chipping away at us, and I think we need to do the same thing to her.
“B.”
I turn to look at Marcus, and when I do, I find his gaze locked onto something.
A jaguar. It’s bigger than the one I saw a few days ago, and it’s snarling as it stalks toward Marcus.
“Stay behind me,” he commands.
My fury for him is immediately replaced with fear. His machete is drawn in his left hand, his handgun in his right.
Gunshots are our last resort. The sound will broadcast our location to the Tiders, but if it’s pull the trigger or be killed ... we’ll have to take our chances.
I’m caught off guard when, instead of waiting for the jaguar to strike, Marcus attacks it instead.
He drops his gun, wrapping both hands around the machete’s hilt and swinging it at the jaguar’s neck.
The cat snarls, a bright-red gash appearing on its neck. Marcus is so fast and strong that I’m left stunned. Its front feet stumbling, the jaguar changes gears and lunges toward me instead.
I hardly even see Marcus moving and then the animal’s head is dropping to the ground, sheared off by his knife.
I gape at him, knowing how much strength that had to take.
“Let’s move,” he says, not even breathing hard. “The blood’s gonna—”
The wail of a siren makes me jump. It’s shrill, resembling community-wide storm warning sirens before the virus.
“That means a boat of new prisoners has been spotted,” Marcus says. “We have to go.”
“Where? Back to camp?”
He shakes his head. “We’ll go straight to the beach. Our aromium will help.”
I turn around, but he calls out my name, stopping me.
He comes toward me and I turn. Tilting my chin up with his forefinger, he brings my gaze to his. “Don’t do anything dangerous. We get who we can on beach days, but it’s not worth getting yourself killed.”
My pulse races because I know this is his way of telling me he cares about me. The day I arrived here was a free-for-all shit show. And the worst part is, none of the Tiders even realize what they’re truly doing. They aren’t saving the newcomers from the island’s more dangerous faction—they are the more dangerous one.
“So you want me to listen to you and not get myself killed, but you won’t listen to me?”
He groans and sighs heavily. “You don’t understand.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Make me understand.”
He hesitates, then gives me a pained look. “I’ve done horrible shit. If something bad happens to me, I deserve it.”
“Really?” I arch a brow, skeptical and even angrier than I was before. “You think you’re the only one who’s done things just to survive?”
He looks off in the distance, a crease forming between his brows. “We don’t have time for this. We have to go.”
“You have to promise me no more aromium.”
He scoffs. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
“Fuck you!” I shove his chest, but he doesn’t move. “Why did you make me care about you just so I could watch you kill yourself?”
His expression softens. “I didn’t do that. It’s just that there’s no other way.”
“Bullshit.” I’m seething, so furious I ignore the brush of something against my lower leg. “The rest of us can do it. Our aromium wasn’t on as long as yours was. Send Stella in your place.”
His eyes widen with alarm. “B ... you have to relax.”
I look down and see vines coiling around his legs, another one sliding up my left leg in a soft caress.
“Oh shit.”
They’re up to Marcus’s thighs now, encasing him like a mummy. He meets my eyes.
“It’s your anger. They’re responding to it. And since you’re mad at me, they might squeeze me to death if you don’t relax.” He cringes as the vines encircle his waist.
I close my eyes, picturing a meadow. My parents are there. So is Marcus. My dad is giving him a warm look.
“Good,” Marcus says. “Deep breaths. Good thoughts.”
I imagine I’m taking my mom’s hands, looking into her eyes. Telling her how much I love her. How much she taught me. How much I miss her but still feel her with me.
“Think about being okay,” he says. “Try to send that message out with your mind.”
I open my eyes, following his direction.
I’m okay. I’m safe. I’m not angry.
The vines slow, then pause. It’s almost like they’re waiting for me to tell them what to do.
I keep assuring them—in my mind—that I’m okay. They retreat, uncoiling from around Marcus. The one that climbed up my side brushes a small leaf across my cheek before sliding away.
Marcus exhales softly, locking his eyes on mine. “We need to go. Keep your emotions in check.”