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)
I’m not ready. I want to keep fighting. A cry of anguish rips from my throat as I crawl, my hands scrabbling for my weapon.
Please, please, please. Not here. Not like this. Not all alone. Not her.
I silently beg my family for help. I don’t want to go out like this, and if I could just have a shred of my mom’s clever problem-solving, my father’s steel will, or my sister’s fierce bravery, maybe it would be enough.
Help me. I need you.
The ground trembles beneath me. Vibrations shudder into my body, the rumble growing quickly.
Is it an earthquake? I grab the bottom of my shirt and frantically wipe my eye with it, blinking hard and begging the universe to let me see.
When I look up, I have partial vision back. There’s a crack of sight through my swollen eye and everything is a little blurry through the other one.
There’s movement off to the side, the ground still thundering beneath me.
It’s Virginia. She’s coming at me with the knife, a murderous gleam of victory shining in her eyes.
I scramble backward, my feet and hands unable to match the pace of her lunge. Instinct makes me curl into a ball so I can take the blow in my back.
Wind whooshes over me, every second feeling like a minute as I wait for the burn of the blow that will be fatal no matter where it lands.
But it doesn’t come. I look up, breath trapped in my throat, and my jaw hits the ground.
Thick green vines are winding themselves around Virginia’s body, the coils tight, perfect circles. They’re at her chest, and she’s scowling as she hacks away at them with the knife.
What the hell is happening?
Run.
The same unwelcome intruder in my consciousness that tells me I want to fuck Pax and murder Virginia is now trying to save me. I’d love to run, but I have to get that knife.
I get to my feet and stagger toward her, my pants soaked with blood from my leg wound.
This is madness. I’m too weak to use the knife on her now, but I have to get it. I need it and I also need her not to have it.
I can see well enough. I can do this.
When I get close, Virginia scowls and swings the knife at me. The vines are still twining around her, new ones taking over when she cuts one down. They’re trailing out of the jungle, more slithering out like snakes.
It’s not possible. They can’t grow that quickly. They can’t attack people. But I’m seeing it with my own eyes. Those vines saved my life.
She slices through another one, one arm raised in the air with the knife and the other one swallowed up by a coiling shoot.
I drop to one knee. I’m about to lose consciousness. I’ve lost too much blood. But I have to make sure Virginia dies, too.
For Olin. For the soldier kids who deserved so much better.
There’s a hum as something slices through the air. As my hands drop to the ground, Virginia’s scream pierces the air.
I glance up. The knife is gone. Her palm is gushing blood, an arrow lodged in it.
Someone’s running, their footsteps sounding behind me. I want to be strong enough to see who it is, but I can hardly stay awake.
I fought hard. I tried.
“Briar, get up.” The voice is clipped, worried. “We have to go now. You have to help me.”
“The...knife.”
“I got it.” She yells the next part. “Get up! We have to go or we’re both dead!”
An arm wraps around my waist, the woman groaning as she strains to get me upright.
Both of us. Dead. I don’t want to be responsible for killing someone else. I put one foot in front of the other.
“Arm around my neck,” she snaps. “Right now.”
I do it, leaning against her. A curtain of smooth black hair fills the crack of vision I have left.
She picks up her pace and I do my best to match her steps, my feet dragging.
“Come on. You can do this, Briar.”
I turn my face, catching part of her profile. “Amira?”
“Yeah. I’ve got you. Just move your feet for me, okay? You have to move your feet.”
She’s alive. How? I want to ask her, but it’s all I can do to breathe and keep from passing out.
“I’m dying,” I mumble. “Leave...me.”
“No. Just move your feet. That’s all I need you to do. We don’t have that far to go.”
I want to tell her the Tiders will find us. And then they’ll kill her, too.
I breathe deeply, my feet aching but landing solidly on the ground now. Everything hurts, but I’m alive. I was so sure I was about to die—surer than I’ve ever been—and somehow, I’m still breathing.
A wave of nausea hits. I swallow it, forcing myself to keep moving.