Page 27

“Champ, fucking run,” T shouts, a hardness in his tone I’ve rarely heard. The unforgiving earth rolls beneath my head as I turn to the voice. T's dark eyes scan my face, his own pinched with worry.

“It's okay, Mess. I got you.” The callus on Trey’s hand scrapes down my cheek. “Fuck,” he roars too close to my face. I flinch, my eyes sealing shut.

A sweaty palm presses against my cheek, rolling my head for me to face the other way. Sam's bright green eyes scan over my face, his brows furrowed. Something presses against the top of my eyebrow and lifts my eyelids.

“Roll her over.” When nothing happens, he shifts his focus up. “For fuck’s sake, roll her over. We need to get her to vomit up whatever she ingested.”

Before I can fully process his words, I'm on my side and something’s being jammed down my throat. I gag and my stomach heaves, pushing out the bottle of water.

“Again,” Trey says more like a curse.

I lose count of how many times they jam their fingers down my throat, causing my gag reflex to spasm and shove out what little remained in my stomach. The muscle along my jaw tightens in an effort to keep my teeth from chattering.

A new shadow draws my attention as Champ squats low and grabs my arm. Vision blurry, I watch as he tightens something around my bicep. Panic sets in. My fight-or-flight kicks in, sending a burst of energy to my limbs. Squirming against the ground, I try to move away as Champ bites the cap off a syringe and lowers the needle.

“Easy there, lady. It's a multipurpose antidote,” he mutters around the cap still between his teeth. “You know we wouldn't hurt you.”

Desperate for comfort, I search the few faces hovering over me until I find Trey's.

“You're okay, baby. Trust us.”

Our gazes locked, I nod. I barely feel the needle prick my vein. Coolness flows from the injection point and spreads up my arm, through my shoulder, and into my chest. A wonderful lightness settles over my muscles. With a raspy sigh, I sink into the soft dirt, relishing the glorious relaxed state the medicine washes over me. I lie like that for what feels like hours, watching the sun’s bright rays sparkle through the trees.

“I feel like a soft rainbow. All glittery and beautiful and wonderful.”

“What the hell is in that stuff?” someone asks beside my head.

My limp body is hauled into the air. My head dangles back, my muscles unable to hold it upright.

“There's a medical facility on the base.”

“Someone support her head. We need to run back.”

“If we had a unicorn, we could ride it,” I say with a giggle. “Am I dying?”

“No, Mess. You're just fucking high.”

I hum a noncommittal response. Something slips beneath my head, hoisting it higher, offering the support my neck can’t.

“Let's move.”

8

Trey

Ifailed.

The one thing I've promised her from the beginning of our time together, and I couldn't follow through with. How can I promise her anything at this point? How would she ever trust me again if I do? I swore with every breath that she was safe. Yet today, she wasn't. Isn't.

Poison. What the fuck?

Who? How? The two questions that consume my thoughts as I stare down at the love of my life sleeping. Sleeping in a hospital bed, recovering from fucking rat poison.

Exhaustion pulls at my thoughts, turning them sluggish and more self-deprecating. The rough scruff along my jaw scrapes against my sweat-slick palm as I scrub a hand over my face.

“It's not your fault,” Tank says beside me without looking up from his phone. He's been glued to the thing since we arrived at the military hospital, keeping everyone updated on the situation. Thankfully, the medical center had more of the multiuse antidote available to administer as soon as we carried her through the doors. The entire compound is on lockdown, soldiers stationed at every entrance keeping the media's nosy eyes and ears far away from where Randi lies recovering.

“Feels like my fault. I promised her we'd keep her safe. Does she look fucking safe to you?” I growl.