Page 8 of Blue Arrow Island (Blue Arrow Island #1)

Life is not always a matter of holding good cards, but sometimes, playing a poor hand well.

- Jack London, The Strength of the Strong

“Hey, she’s waking up.”

My eyelids are weighted. I want to open them and see who’s talking, but I can’t.

“Briar, open your eyes.”

I’m faintly aware that my head hurts. My legs do, too. But I’ll worry about that later. I just don’t have the energy.

“Briar.” The deep voice turns stern. “Come on, we don’t have IVs here. You have to drink and eat if you want to live. Wake up.”

The musky scents of decaying vegetation and wet soil fast-track my return to reality. I’m on the island. And the voice belongs to Pax.

It takes all my energy to force my eyes open, and I immediately squint against the light. Pax slowly transforms from a blurry outline to someone I recognize.

“Attagirl,” he says. “I’m gonna help you into a sitting position so you can get some water down. It’s going to hurt, but you have to do it.”

He wraps an arm around my middle back, stabbing pains shooting through my core. I groan and try to resist the movement, but I’m too weak.

“You were beaten.” He supports my back with one arm, his other hand picking up a canteen. “Can you hold this?”

I look at him blankly. I can’t even lift my arm up, let alone hold anything.

“I need some help,” he calls over his shoulder.

“On my way, Commander.”

A woman comes to the other side of the bed, unscrewing the canteen’s cap and holding it up to my lips. I go limp, unable to stay awake any longer.

“Briar, drink the fucking water.” Pax’s harsh tone brings me out of my haze. “You want to live? Drink the water and eat the food. Mari will pour it in your mouth if you need her to.”

Listlessly, I part my lips. Mari gently tips the canteen to my mouth, lukewarm water flowing out of it. It feels good on my throat. The dribble that runs down my chin and neck grounds me.

Marcelle’s room. A torch. And a threat about being a “baby killer.”

How did I live through that? I didn’t think there was a chance. I turn my mouth away from the canteen and look to the side, expecting Marcelle and her friends to be standing there.

I cry out in pain from the movement. Everything hurts. I’ve had broken ribs enough times to know what it feels like. One of my eyes is so swollen I can only partially see out of it.

“I need to know who did this to you,” Pax says. “Was it Marcelle?”

Somewhere on the edges of my consciousness, I’m slightly offended. He thinks one woman could do this to me and I wouldn’t fight back at all? People were holding me down. I didn’t get in a single hit or kick. They planned to do this to me, and they executed their plan well.

“You can just nod. It’s not a big mystery—you were found unconscious in her room and she has scratch marks on her face.”

That bitch spat on me. She didn’t even have the guts to fight me one on one. When I’m able to stay awake, I’m going to be more pissed off about it. For now, it’s just not important.

When he sees I’m not going to respond, Pax sighs, aggravated. “We can talk about that later. For now, you need to eat this.” He holds something in front of my mouth.

I waver, sleep lulling me like a siren song I can’t resist.

“Fucking eat it!” he commands. “You’re not dying, do you hear me? Whoever did this to you violated the rules and they’ll pay for it. Open your mouth and eat three bites of food and then you can sleep.”

My eyes focus on him. Why does he care so much whether I live or die? And more importantly, why don’t I seem to care?

Three bites. Maybe I can do it.

He nudges my lips open and puts something sweet in my mouth. Sluggishly, I mash it with my teeth.

Banana. At least it’s not a piece of hairy rat tail.

I was tough before I got here. Now I’m a victim, lying down and letting Marcelle try to kill me. What happened to me? I was asleep in the open, the easiest of targets.

“These two will be harder to chew, but they’re important.” Pax’s arm is warm and strong on my back. “You have to chew these or you’ll choke. It’s fish. Okay?”

I think I nod. He pushes one into my mouth, the fishy, smoky taste making me frown.

“There you go.” His voice encourages me. “One more bite, a little more water, and you can go back to sleep. I’ll be right here guarding you.”

I’m going to be late for work. Billy won’t let me eat for three days. I want to tell Pax, but I can’t get my mouth to make words. He puts another bite of fish in my mouth and I slowly work it with my teeth until I can swallow it.

The woman, Mari, tips the canteen to my mouth again and I take a long drink. She removes it.

“Can you do a little bit more?” she asks.

Not waiting for my answer, she returns the canteen spout to my lips. I take two lazy swallows before my head slumps to the side.

“Okay, back to sleep,” Pax says. “That was good, Briar.”

My pained cry as he helps me lie back is raspy. I have questions. It’s not safe to sleep. I can’t fight it, though. My body slides back into blissful unawareness.

“How much blood has he lost?”

“I don’t know...a lot.”

“Oh shit. What happened?”

I don’t recognize the first two voices, but I think the third one is Pax’s.

“Fucking jaguar got him,” a woman says, her voice steely with anger.

“Get his clothes off,” someone says.

“Here, let’s get him into this bed.” That’s Pax.

I open my eyes, grimacing as I try to get into a sitting position. I hurt everywhere and don’t have any strength.

So that’s not happening without help. I turn my head to the side. Several people are crowded around a nearby bed with the injured man on it.

“Start compressions,” someone commands.

“How long has he been down?” Pax asks.

“I don’t know. I mean, the jag took him down...maybe forty minutes ago. It took us almost ten minutes to get him away from it.”

“Ten minutes?” Pax practically roars.

A few seconds of grim silence pass.

“We were afraid of hurting him. I take full responsibility.”

“Goddamn right you do. You do compressions on him yourself, Maxwell.”

“Yes, sir.”

“His legs are turning blue,” a woman says flatly. “It’s too late.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Pax snaps. “You do compressions for the next twenty minutes, Maxwell.”

I’ve never seen Pax like this. The normally easygoing commander paces away from the bed and back again, hands on his hips.

“How the fuck did this happen? A hunting party of six fours should be bringing back a dead jaguar, not a dead team member.”

“It wasn’t an average jaguar, sir.” The man says the words so softly I hardly hear them. “It was on us before we even heard it.”

Pax scoffs. “You’re not average soldiers. And you let a goddamn cat spend ten minutes tearing Carpenter’s guts out.”

I can only see Pax’s back and the profile of a woman who hangs her head, wiping tears from her cheek.

“Get the fuck out of my sight.” Pax’s voice is low and menacing. “I’ll discuss this with Commander Marsden and send for you. Wait in your rooms.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Before Pax can turn back to me, I move my head and close my eyes. I don’t want him to know I overheard that.

My heart pounds so hard I swear it must be visible through my chest as I pretend to sleep.

“Bree, send for Luke and Colvin,” Pax says. “Tell them to relieve me here so I can go to a meeting.”

“Yes, Commander.”

I relax and try to slide back to sleep, listening to Maxwell counting softly as he does compressions on a dead man.

The next time I wake up, bright sunlight is streaming in through the open windows of the infirmary. A bald Black man is sitting where Pax was, his gaze shifting from the window to me as I start to sit up.

It’s not easy, but I manage. The pain is only a fraction of what it was before. My ribs are a little sore, but not broken. I was sure I had at least one broken rib.

“How long have I been in here?” I croak, reaching for the canteen on the table beside the bed.

“Uh...you woke up yesterday. You slept for two days before that.”

I drink as much water as my body will tolerate, shaking my head as I screw the cap back on.

“That’s not possible.”

He shrugs. “It’s what I was told.”

The swelling in my eye is gone. I’m not completely healed, but I’m myself again. There’s no way I made so much progress so quickly. Maybe I just thought things were worse than they were because I was in a drug-induced stupor.

“You’re up. How are you feeling?” a woman with short brown hair and a hawkish face asks.

“A lot better.”

My eyes flicker over to the bed where the man Pax called Carpenter was. It’s empty now, made up with fresh white sheets. Did that really happen? Or did I imagine it due to powerful narcotics in my system?

“You guys must have some next-level medicine here.” I smile at the woman whose fingertips are pressed to my inner wrist so she can check my pulse.

“You just needed rest.” She says it breezily, like I’m a little kid who had a scrape on my knee. “Are you having pain anywhere?”

“No, seriously. Did you give me capsaicin? Please tell me you guys didn’t give me kratom. I mean, if you did, I get it, but that stuff’s addictive. Or was it actual medicine? How did I heal so quickly?”

“Are you having pain anywhere?”

My gaze darts to her wrist, where her bracelet indicates she’s a three. I suspect the higher a Rising Tide’s number is, the more they know about this weird-as-fuck island.

“I deserve to know what you guys gave me.”

A wrinkle of annoyance appears between her brows. “We didn’t give you anything but food and water. Now, I have other patients, so do you have pain anywhere ?”

“No, I’m fine. How long have I been here?”

“This is your fourth day.”

My shoulders sink. I should be grateful I’m so much better, but the scientist in me can’t blindly swallow answers that don’t make sense. If I wasn’t hallucinating the severity of my pain and injuries, what’s going on?

“What were my injuries when I arrived?”

Her smile is tight and not remotely happy. “Commander Thatcher will be coming by soon. Talk to him about it. I have other patients.”

She walks away and I arch a brow at the man sitting beside my bed. He ignores me—no surprise since he’s wearing a four bracelet.

I slowly sip water, making a mental list of all the questions I have for Pax. By the time he strolls into the infirmary, though, all I can think about is the hollowness in my stomach. I’m so hungry it hurts.

“What a difference a day makes,” he quips, grinning as he looks at me.

He’s wearing a belt made of a narrow rope; his abs look carved from stone and his face seems leaner than it was before.

“You ready to go back to Marcelle’s room?”

My heart hammers with fear, the image of Marcelle’s hateful, torch-lit expression burned into my mind. I really thought I was going to die.

“Your face tells me everything I need to know,” he says. “I already cut you loose from her. I’m your mentor now, and you’re bunking with Rona. That work for you?”

I nod, relief washing through me. I don’t have to sleep outside anymore. Now that I know Marcelle and her friends are out to get me, I won’t be a sitting duck again.

He nods at the man beside my bed. “You can go, Colvin. Thanks.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Pax comes all the way over to my bed, making my stomach flutter unexpectedly. “More good news—you’re off kitchen duty.”

I groan. “Don’t put me on laundry.”

The dimple in his cheek surfaces when he smiles. “You’re with me because I want you on the hunting and security team. We don’t usually put ones there, but you’re special. I’ve seen it in training and I saw it when Olin brought you in here after you were attacked. You’ve got the heart of a fighter.”

My lips part with surprise. “Olin brought me here?”

“Yeah. Billy sent him to find you when you didn’t show up for work. He kicked Marcelle’s door down.”

“Oh, wow.”

“The building crew is gonna be way too busy to fix that door, so I put it in storage. You don’t think Marcelle will mind not having a door anymore, do you?”

I’m not a cruel person, but I do think everyone should get what they deserve. And the thought of Marcelle having to sleep unprotected, unable to leave anything in her room because it could get stolen while she’s gone...it’s very well deserved.

“I think she’s tough enough to get through it,” I say with a smile.