Page 28 of Blue Arrow Island (Blue Arrow Island #1)

Humans have always been drawn to plants that produce psychoactive compounds, but that’s not a coincidence.

Opium poppies (used in morphine and codeine), cannabis (THC and CBD), coca plants (cocaine), coffee plants (caffeine) and tobacco plants (nicotine) are all well-known and ingrained in our daily lives.

Every one of these plants evolved to produce these compounds specifically to affect the mammalian nervous system.

- Excerpt from the Introduction to Plant Biology course taught by Dr. Lucinda Hollis

I tug my hair free from its tight bun as I walk into the tunnel with Vance later that night, the air cooling quickly as we descend. My sweat-soaked hair trails down my back, the waves full from the thick, humid air.

After talking to Marcus earlier, I ate and worked in the garden all day, harvesting food and pulling weeds. My neck and shoulders ache, and once dinner was finished, I only hung out with Amira for about an hour in the Hub. I need a cool shower and my bed.

My room is midway down a long hallway, one of forty rooms in the underground area. There are twenty on each side of the main walkway, and most of them are occupied by two people. Then there’s the security team housing block above ground, and another above-ground block for families.

Even though this is my room, it’s currently programmed to only accept Vance’s thumbprint on the keypad outside the door. He presses his thumb to the pad and the door slides open with a whooshing sound.

“I’m taking a shower.” I grab my towel and clean clothes, feeling Vance’s watchful gaze on me.

He follows me out of my room, as usual, silently shadowing me until I get to the bathroom door. That’s where he waits for me every time I shower. I don’t know if it’s because of my fatigue, but I’m extra annoyed by his presence tonight.

If Marcus trusts me enough to tell me the things he did earlier, he should trust that I’m not going to run back to Virginia and tell her. It’s something I plan to discuss with him when I take him to the cave’s location.

Or maybe I should say if . I backed myself into a corner earlier, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to beat two of Marcus’s best fighters. I asked him to match me with women so I’m not physically outmatched. Some of the men on the security team—Marcus included—are far bigger and stronger than I am.

I know as well as anyone that women are underestimated, though. If I lose, I’ll have nothing. Marcus and I have a shared enemy in Virginia, and if he’s telling me the truth, I want to help him. If we can find a way to bring her down, it could change everything for the Tiders.

With all of us working together, we could find a way off this island. Warring factions are exactly what Whitman wants, because if we’re fighting each other, none of us are focused on the real enemy—him. He’s the one who shot us all up with his experimental serum and dumped us on this island.

There’s a woman at a sink brushing her teeth, but other than that, the bathroom is empty. With only four shower stalls and six sinks, it gets crowded in here right before most people go to bed and first thing in the morning.

The shower stalls here are made of concrete, only the floors tiled.

There’s a small opening to get into the shower, and then as long as you stay right under the showerhead, no one can see you.

I never take the initial spray of cool water on my hot, sweaty skin for granted.

We only have five minutes to shower, but I always spend my first ten seconds or so letting water wash down my face and body.

My skin is bronzed from the sun now, though my torso is about ten shades lighter than the rest of me.

Some of the women here go to what they call “the pool” on days off, which is a spring with a waterfall.

They swim nude, taking turns guarding the perimeter.

I’m too modest for that, but I’ve thought about going and keeping my underclothes on.

The ache in my neck when I crane it up makes me cringe. Soreness is the only downside of working in the garden. I’ll have to push past this discomfort tomorrow.

I mentally run through my dad’s lessons as I lather my hair.

He used to tell me and Maven about something he learned when he was a Marine, called you’re already dead .

By reframing your thinking and accepting that you’re already dead, you can eliminate your worries about living or dying and focus only on the task at hand.

I’ve drawn on that many times since the virus.

Eyes, throat, solar plexus, groin. Be decisive. Strike first.

Movement in the doorway of the shower stall makes me clear the soap and water from my eyes with my hands and step out of the shower stream.

Vance is leaning into my shower stall, his predatory eyes locked onto my body. Adrenaline courses through me as I scream, “What the fuck are you doing?”

He looks smug as he says, “Sorry, thought I heard you yelling.”

I draw my fist back, about to punch him, when he steps back, getting in one last head-to-toe sweep of my nakedness.

Fury and fear battle for control inside me. I’m fucking pissed at him, but I know I’m at his mercy. What can I do? If I complain, he’ll say he thought he heard me screaming, which is bullshit.

I’m not starving and I’m not alone at the bottom of a hole in the ground, but am I safe here? Truly safe? Hell no. There’s a strange man following me everywhere and sleeping in my room every night, because Marcus thinks I’m the one he needs to worry about.

A wave of contempt for him swells inside me. Marcus did this. He could have assigned a female soldier to guard me, but instead, I got a man who makes me feel violated and disgusting.

I don’t even know if I’m angrier at Vance or Marcus. After turning the handle for the shower to stop the water, I grab the towel I left hanging on a hook and wrap it around myself.

Vance’s leering expression is still fresh in my mind. I close my eyes, willing myself to stop shaking. If he thinks I’m afraid of him, I’ll lose what little control I have.

Quickly, I dry myself and dress in the clean clothes I left just outside the shower stall, reaching out to grab them so I can stay hidden inside.

As soon as I walk out of the bathroom area doorway, Vance pushes off the wall, a smile still playing on his lips.

I narrow my eyes at him, my tone loaded with malice. “If you ever do anything like that again, I will kill you.”

He laughs lightly. “Oh, will you? With what, your hands?”

“If I have no other weapon, then yes.”

His expression shifts, turning serious. “It was an accident. I was coming to help you.”

“You’re disgusting. I don’t need your help.”

He turns away and starts walking. “Sure you don’t, little girl. You think you know what this place is, but you ain’t seen shit.”

My blood boils with anger over being called little girl . Everything in me wants to rush him and make him pay. I can’t risk the consequences, though. My survival is on the line.

It’s all I can do to stay silent. Once he uses his fingerprint to get us back in my room, I go to my cot and wrap myself in my blanket. It’s a worthless shield, but at least I’m completely covered.

He’s lying on his back on a cot directly across from mine. I lie on my side, my eyes never leaving him.

First thing tomorrow, I’m changing the terms of my deal with Marcus. I want Vance out of my room and as far away from me as possible, more than I want anything else. And I want it, win or lose.

I need to sleep and don’t want to at the same time. Taking on two of Marcus’s security team members is going to be hard even if I am fully rested. But I’m afraid to even close my eyes while trapped in a room alone with Vance.

If only I had a weapon. Like the knife I found in the cave. Instead, Marcus has it, and he has access to any other weapons he wants, too. Makes me wish I was fighting him tomorrow. He’d be hard to beat, but it would feel damn good to punch him.

Pinching my arm beneath the covers, I fight to stay awake. After my long day working in the sun, I’m sapped. I don’t trust Vance, but my eyelids are getting heavier by the second.

I’ll just rest my eyes for a little bit while staying awake and alert.

My blanket is being pulled out from beneath me. I wake up with a gasp, trapped in the cocoon I created for myself.

Vance. I can’t see him, but I know it’s him tugging at my blanket. It only takes him a few seconds to strip it away and drop it to the floor.

My cot dips as he puts a knee on it. I react immediately, knowing I’m in for a harder fight if he gets all his weight on top of me. Moving into a sitting position, I brace a hand on the wall and kick him in the chest, using both feet.

With an “oof” sound, he staggers back a couple feet, muttering, “Bitch.”

He’s back on me before I can get away from my cot. One of his hands gropes my breast and I scream like a feral animal as I drive the butt of my hand into his nose.

“Hold still.” His voice is low. “Or I’ll say you tried to escape.”

“Fuck you.”

His hand wraps around my throat, the sound of fabric ripping making my stomach roll. It’s the cotton pants I wore to sleep in.

Fight like hell, Briar.

I can hear my father’s voice in my head, reminding me why he taught me everything he did. It wasn’t because he relished seeing his daughters punch each other in training, but because we were so dear to him that he wanted us to be able to get ourselves out of the worst situations.

Kicking and kneeing Vance’s groin, I manage to get him to take his hand off my throat. I suck in a deep breath and try to get off the cot, but he punches me in the face.

I’m dazed, but I move anyway, because I can’t afford any hesitation. He’s still standing over me, though, the metal bar at the side of my cot digging into the center of my back.

He tears my shirt open. I scream with everything in me, kicking and clawing at him. I have to get on my feet.

He hisses in pain after getting close enough for me to rake my nails down his cheek. Grabbing my shoulders, he slams my head to the cot. If it was a hard surface, that would have rung my bell, but instead, it gives me a chance to wrap my hands around his throat.

I squeeze, refusing to let go. My life depends on not letting go. Vance could kill me right here and have my body buried in the woods by morning without anyone ever knowing what happened.

When he tries to get his hands around my neck, I turn my face to the side and bite his hand as hard as I can, holding on like an attack dog.

“Fuck!” He rasps out the word, then backs up a few steps.

I spring out of bed, taking a slow, calming breath and silently moving away. It’s pitch black in here, which works for and against me.

“You’re dead, bitch.”

I quietly creep over to the wall where I know the shelf’s hanging, finding it with my hands and tearing it down. When I hear him coming at me, I swing the shelf at his head, making contact.

He gets ahold of my torn shirt and pulls me toward him. I hit his head with the shelf again, then again. It’s a solid metal shelf—the weapon I didn’t realize I had until I was desperate for it.

Vance retreats. Knowing he’s going for his knife, I race to the door and try to open it, but it’s locked.

Shit. I bang the shelf against the door over and over, screaming as I do.

“Help me! Someone! I need help!”

I’m pulled back by my hair, so hard my feet slide out from under me. My hands instinctively move to free myself, the shelf clattering to the ground.

“No!” I fall to the floor, screaming and thrashing.

This isn’t happening. Never again. Part of me died every time I let Lochlan have me against my will, telling myself it was the only way to survive.

Now I know, though. If it’s give in or die fighting, I’d rather die.