Page 30 of Blue Arrow Island (Blue Arrow Island #1)

I’ve been pinned down in some tight situations. Outnumbered and outgunned. But pressure builds diamonds. When the going gets tough, keep your head. Never give up. As long as your heart’s still beating, there’s hope.

– Excerpt from an interview with Ben Hollis for a book authored by Margie Gillis

I’m practically jogging to keep up with Marcus as he storms through the darkened camp, the ring of the gunshot still playing over in my mind.

I expected it to happen—why else would they dig a grave? As I watched them shovel earth from the ground and heard Vance beg for his life, I went back and forth over whether I thought he deserved to die.

I’m still not sure, but I know I feel safer knowing he won’t be waiting around any corners for me.

“Hey,” I say from a few steps behind Marcus. “You said we’d talk.”

He casts a quick glance at me, his brow furrowed. “You want to talk now?”

“I’ve had questions since I woke up on the boat that brought me here, so yeah. Now would be good.”

My pulse pounds as he walks back to me. A storm still rages in his eyes, and I know this isn’t the best time to talk, but I’m done following orders and not getting answers.

“What do you want to know?”

Where do I even begin? I could spend hours asking him all the questions I have.

“Were you elected to be the leader here?”

He grunts. “More like appointed.”

“Who appointed you?”

“The guy who used to be in charge.”

I’m about to ask him to elaborate when something gently drifts onto my cheek. When I touch my fingertip to it, there’s a tiny crunch before it melts into water against my skin.

Weird. I write it off as a fluke, but then another cold flake kisses my arm.

“That’s snow,” I murmur, even though I know it’s impossible.

“Fuck,” Marcus mutters. He puts his hands on his hips and looks up at the sky. “Really?”

He starts walking again, but I keep my feet locked into place on the ground. After about ten feet, he turns around. “What are you doing? Let’s go.”

I cross my arms over my chest and shake my head. “I’m not moving until I get some answers.”

He blows out an exasperated breath and walks back to me. “It’s the middle of the night. Can we do this tomorrow?”

“No, I’m not letting you put me off for another second. Is that snow?”

A pause. “I think so, yeah.”

“How is it snowing on a blazing-hot tropical island? And don’t tell me it’s magic because my tolerance is worn down to nothing at this point. I want a full, honest answer.”

I can barely make out his expression in the faint glow of a nearby light, but I see the corners of his lips quirk almost imperceptibly.

“Aromium is being used to experiment on people and animals here. It’s not the only experiment.

There are also microclimate experiments.

The control panel for those was broken, but Virginia must have an electrician in her camp.

With the tools she got from the cache, they must’ve fixed it. ”

For a few seconds, I’m too stunned to speak. And not just because of what he just said, but also because it was a real answer instead of a brush-off.

“Microclimates.” I shake my head. “That shouldn’t be possible.”

“It is.”

My scientific mind is reeling, coming up with questions faster than I can process them.

“Won’t snow kill the crops?”

“It shouldn’t. It’ll take time for her to ramp up to produce enough snow for that, and we’ll have time to cover the crops. But even if it killed them” —he shrugs—“we’d just replant. Everything is engineered to grow quickly.”

I fire the next question that comes to mind at him.

“How many people are buried back where...we just were?”

He considers for a second. “Around fifty. And before you ask, no, I didn’t shoot all of them.”

“Did someone else shoot them?”

He exhales heavily through his nose. “Most of them died of natural causes or from being attacked by animals or Tiders. My friend Finn is one of them.”

Finn. The one who was killed by the snake that day by the waterfall.

“Let’s keep walking,” he says.

I follow, speed walking so I can keep talking to him.

“So you’ve talked to Virginia? She knows you’ll trade food for turning off aromium?”

“Yeah, she knows.”

“Is Rising Tide for making soldiers for Whitman?”

He doesn’t respond right away, and I look over and up at the tight set of his jaw, a snowflake settling onto one of his dark eyelashes.

He really is the most brutally beautiful, savage specimen of a man I’ve ever seen.

Dark. Intense. Strong. Volatile. I still feel pulled toward him, even though I’m furious with him.

“It’s entirely about the kids. The child of two people with active aromium is born enhanced with it. It can’t be modified or turned off, and it’s more powerful than what the parents were injected with.”

I remember the kids I saw when Pax brought me to their camp. They were little machines, not a smile or laugh in sight. People, but also...not. Somehow, Whitman managed to do something even more evil than his previous crimes against humanity.

“That’s cruel,” I say softly, emotion welling in my throat.

“There’s no easy way to stop it,” he says, his voice clipped. “But it has to be done.”

This is why he’s trying to starve them out. It’s like his decision to execute Vance—not the only option, but a decisive, effective one, even if it’s also cold.

We’re at the security team housing block, and he uses his thumbprint to open the outer door. When he steps aside for me to enter, I lower my brows in a skeptical look.

“Okay, but...why are we going here? Why can’t I go back to my room?”

His response is a scowl, but it’s a tired one—much weaker than his usual. When he speaks, his voice is so low it’s practically a whisper.

“Vance has friends. When word gets out about what happened, I want to know you’re safe.”

I nod slowly, considering. “Don’t you think they’ll be angrier at you than me?”

“They mess with me, they’ll end up in a hole beside him.”

My eyes widen as I process that. He shifts, looking agitated, and rubs his jaw.

“Look, I don’t kill people for questioning me. But Vance’s friends might try to make this into something it’s not. I just want to keep the peace, and if you’re with me, there’ll be peace.”

“With you?” I’m appalled by this plan. “In your room?”

“Just...come in and hear me out. Give me five minutes. Then you can leave if you want to.”

“You mean ... leave camp?”

“No. I mean, you can go back to your room.”

“I can’t unlock the door because someone thought it was a good idea for Vance to be the only one who could lock and unlock it.” I give him a pointed glare.

His sigh is weary. “Again, I’m sorry. If you want, I’ll leave my room and stay somewhere else for the rest of the night while you stay there. It’s secure.”

A cluster of people are approaching the housing block. Security team members returning from Vance’s burial, I think. I really don’t feel like making eye contact with any of them right now. Some of them could be the friends of Vance’s that Marcus mentioned.

“Five minutes.” I step into the building.

The housing block is enormous, its walls and floors made of concrete. The ground level doesn’t have any doors. Its open, thick metal posts supporting the building’s weight. There are built-in metal ladders leading up to the second floor. I assume it’s because of flooding.

Marcus gestures at a ladder and I climb it. He follows and then leads the way down a short hallway, the floors on this level made of wooden planks that fill the air with a sweet, fresh scent.

He uses his thumbprint to open the door, and my heart hammers hard as I walk into his quarters.

When he flips a switch beside the door, a light fixture on the wall casts dim light around us.

We’re in a room with the same wooden floors that were in the hallway, the planks also covering the walls and ceiling. The room is about twelve feet by twelve feet, a wooden table with six chairs taking up most of the space.

Marcus walks over to the table, and before he gets to it, my gaze falls on the knife I found in the cave. He picks it up and brings it to me, holding on to the leather sheath and offering me the handle.

I just look at him, confused.

“Take it,” he says.

As soon as my hand is wrapped around the weapon’s smooth handle, I feel a little safer. But I’m still wary, because I don’t know if he’s going to let me keep it.

“I get why you want it. You know how to use it?”

I nod, my eyes unintentionally roving over his carved chest and arms. The waistband of his shorts hangs low enough that I can see the tip of a black tattoo.

I want him to push his shorts down, put me on that table and fuck away every thought and emotion swimming around my head right now.

No one could take the world away like he could, with his body and his intensity.

It’s just the aromium, I remind myself. I’m not actually a feral island bitch in heat.

He leans his back against the wall, meeting my gaze. “You won’t be sparring with anyone tomorrow. Or I guess in a few hours, I don’t know what time it even is. And we won’t be going to find the place you found the knife.”

“Why not? I told you I’m not injured.”

He pulls his brows together, his expression troubled. “You don’t have to make deals with me. I shouldn’t have kept the knife. It’s yours.”

Can I trust this sudden change of heart? Is this just him feeling guilty over what happened with Vance?

“But you said the guy who left this knife behind can help with the aromium shield that protects the camp.”

He nods. “Yeah, he could help with a lot of things. If he’s willing.”

“He may not be?”

His shoulders drop with defeat. “I don’t even know if he’s alive. And if he is, he chose to leave. So would he help? I don’t know.”

“But if he is alive, and if we can find him, could he help us reach the people at Rising Tide and tell them about aromium? So they can decide if they want to keep it on for themselves?”

He nods. “Yeah, he could help with that.”

“Would he want to?”

He considers. “He knows how dangerous aromium is, and he knows it’s only going to get worse. But I don’t know what his state of mind is. If he’s even alive.”

My mind wanders back to the children at Rising Tide.

Not only has Whitman stolen their lives, but he’s also making them into weapons capable of mass destruction.

I only wanted vengeance against Lochlan when I got here, but I can’t unsee what I’ve seen.

This is bigger than anything that’s happened since the virus changed the world and Whitman seized power, and it’s only going to get worse unless someone stops it.

“I think we should try,” I say.

“Okay. Let’s get some sleep and talk about it tomorrow.”

I look around the spartan space. “I’m assuming you don’t sleep on the table?”

Amusement flickers on his face. “No, this is a meeting room. Bed’s in here.”

He opens a door on the other side of the room and I follow him through it.

As soon as I walk into the space, the scents of salt, wind and sun-dried cotton send a tingle of awareness dancing down my spine.

There’s a bed with a pillow and white sheets, a lightweight blanket half bunched on the bed and half hanging to the floor.

Weapons hang from several metal hooks on the wood-planked wall, one hook holding what looks like a dark jacket.

On the small dresser, there’s a framed photo of a woman who looks like she’s in her forties, her hair dark and her facial features similar to Marcus’s, other than her expression.

She’s smiling warmly, which I’m not sure his facial muscles know how to do.

A woven basket sits in one corner, dirty clothes piled into it.

“You can sleep in here.” He takes what looks like a radio from a shelf. “I’ll take this so it doesn’t keep you up.”

“Where will you sleep?”

He tilts his head toward the doorway. “In the other room. This door locks from the inside.”

“You’ll have to sleep on the floor, though.”

He shrugs. “No big deal. Get some rest.”

“Hey.” I sit down on the bed and unlace my boots. “How do I get in to see Ellison?”

“When you wake up, go find the guard at the tunnel entrance and tell them you need to see her. They’ll radio her.”

“Okay, and after that, I’ll take you to the cave.”

“Cave?”

“Where I found the knife.”

He nods, looking down at his dirty bare feet. “I’m going to take a shower. Lock this door.”

I can’t help smiling at his brusque tone.

“What? Is that funny?”

“No, it’s just...nothing.” I slide my first boot off.

He leans his shoulder against the doorframe, his expression relaxing. “What?”

I give in, working on my second boot. “Have you always been so bossy?”

He scoffs, the corners of his lips easing dangerously close to a smile. “Actually, yeah. Used to be a quarterback.”

I arch my brows with surprise. I can see that. He most definitely has the body of an athlete.

“Professional?”

“Not quite,” he says with a smirk. “All-state in high school, and then I played all the way through college.”

As much as I’d like to dig into every detail of just how broad his shoulders looked in those pads, fatigue tugs on my eyelids, my neck and back still sore from my day in the garden yesterday.

“Thanks for letting me have your bed,” I say.

Nodding, he pushes off the doorway, closing it behind him.

I pull off one sock, then the other. Still sitting on the edge of the bed, I try to process the events of the last couple of hours.

Vance is dead. If Nova hadn’t been patrolling the housing block as part of her watch, and if she or Marcus hadn’t believed me, things would have turned out much worse for me.

This place is harsh. There are countless ways to die. But I’m still here. And while I don’t wholeheartedly trust anyone yet, I know Amira is my friend. I know Olin is too. And I believe Marcus, Nova and Ellison are all decent people trying to make fair decisions.

I’m better off than I was at Rising Tide. And if I’m not fighting Virginia alone, my chances of defeating her are better.

Is death the only way to truly defeat her? Maybe she could do some soul-searching from the hole she kept me prisoner in.

“Briar,” Marcus barks from outside the door.

“What?”

“Lock the damn door so I can go take a shower.”

Lightness flutters in my stomach as I get up to walk over to the door. He really seems to be looking out for me, which is nice.

There are three different locks on the door—two dead bolts and a metal bar. Once I’ve secured all of them, there’s no way anyone could get through the door without a bomb or a pretty killer axe.

So that’s something. I’m finally completely alone and safe for the first time since I got to this island.

I lie down in my clothes, covering myself up to the waist with the blanket. Maybe tomorrow will be boring , I think as I drift off to sleep.

Somehow, though, I doubt it. Especially if I spend any amount of time around Marcus.