Page 89 of Property of Anchor

Together.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Pearl

I slipped on my shoes by the clubhouse door, and Shay was right behind me as she held a sweatshirt tight against her chest, her red hair braided back.Lost leaned by the entrance, waiting for us.His arms were crossed, and he was watching the tree line like it might jump out and bite him.

“I don’t know why I’m nervous to meet Bernice,” Shay muttered.“She sounds terrifying and hilarious.”

“She’s...a lot,” I admitted.“But in the best way.You’ll love her.”

Lost fell into step behind us as we made our way toward the cabins, and our boots crunched softly on the gravel.Anchor and Skull had taken off not ten minutes earlier to do a sweep around the island and check the cameras, leaving us under strict orders not to wander far.But Anchor had said Shay needed to feel at home, and Bernice was part of that.

As we neared Bernice’s cabin, something immediately felt off.The porch light wasn’t on, and the screen door was hanging crooked.

I slowed.“That doesn’t look right…”

Shay stepped closer behind me.“Is that…?”

“Bob?”I called out.

Then I saw him.

Bob was sprawled on the front steps, slumped against the railing.Blood soaked through his shirt, painting a grotesque smear down his front and pooling on the wood beneath him.His throat—Jesus Christ, his throat—had a deep, jagged slash, and his eyes fluttered like he was trying to fight the darkness.

“Oh my God!”I screamed.

Shay rushed forward and dropped to her knees beside him.“Bob, Bob, look at me!”She took her sweatshirt and pressed it against his throat.Her hands were shaking but steady.“We need something tighter!Pearl—”

“Call Anchor,” Lost barked, already dropping beside Bob.

My fingers scrambled in my pocket, nearly dropping my phone twice.I hit Anchor’s name, and it barely rang once before he picked up.

“Pearl—”

“Someone got Bob!”I screamed into the phone.“His throat’s slit; he’s… he’s bleeding out!I don’t know if he’s going to make it!”

“Where are you?”Anchor demanded.

“Bernice’s cabin,” I gasped.“We’re at Bernice’s—”

“On our way.Don’t go inside.”The line went dead.

Lost had his phone out and was barking into it to get to Bernice’s cabin.

I could hear shouting in the background through the line.Chairs scraping.Men cussing.The roar of action coming to life.

My stomach twisted.

“Bernice,” I whispered.

I turned to the cabin.The door was completely off its hinges and leaned against the side of the cabin like it had been torn from the frame.

“Pearl,” Lost called.“Don’t, don’t go in there!”

I ignored him.

My legs moved on their own as I ran up the steps and into the cabin.My eyes swept the living room.Couch overturned.A lamp shattered in the corner.One of Bernice’s slippers, a ridiculous fuzzy yellow one, lay on its side by the coffee table.There was a struggle.A bad one.