Page 107

“Their cave is all of about fifteen feet away from the side tunnel,” Beau pipes up, his fingers tangled in my hair.

“We’ve only seen a few patrols out that way, and there’s no sign Alastair has any idea that we have another exit.

We should do it. Ethel is...” He sighs.

“We have a few that could use the food. It might give us enough that we can at least evacuate a few people. Small groups during the night. If they’re careful and have enough rations to get them back to Red Zone. ..”

They might make it.

I finish his sentence in my head, and I lean back against him. He presses a kiss to my hair.

“Damn it, why is Alastair waiting us out?” Jayk growls, prowling the room. “If he has his fucking explosives, why not use them?”

“You think he’s bluffing?” Lucky asks, his head lifting, and Dom stands, severe and grim.

“Is it a bluff you want to call?”

They go for the animals that night, in the early hours just before dawn, coming back with just two pigs and three chickens.

I close my eyes as I listen to the sounds of the subsequent slaughter.

I’m not usually squeamish about death—not after several years in the forest. When I was lucky enough to catch a rabbit or fish, I did what I needed to.

Hunger has a way of stripping away anything but the need to survive.

But this time it feels different, and it’s not because these animals were cute and familiar.

It’s because their deaths mean we truly have nothing left and no way of getting more.

Once that meat is gone . . . we’re next.

They work for hours, stripping the meat, smoking it, preserving the blood and bones and organs. We’ll use everything.

When it all becomes too much to bear, I turn inside, taking the stairs two at a time. Jasper has already turned in to rest before he needs to go back out on watch. I’ll lie with him for a while.

No one is more calming than Jasper, awake or asleep.

But when I turn into the hall, I freeze.

Hearing me, Lucky and Jasper freeze, too.

Between them, a patchy brown goat bleats, backing into its friend.

My jaw drops as Lucky and Jasper exchange a look, and I realize Lucky has a silky black hen tucked under his jacket.

“You went back for them?” I hiss, my heart jabbing, panicky, against my ribcage.

The danger of it is stupid . Reckless. Besides, those animals are food, and we don’t have anything to feed them, and oh God. No. He can’t have gone back for them just now . Dom wouldn’t have left them behind if they’d been with the others when my brutes did their trip.

Which means . . . they’d already been moved.

Lucky’s guilty expression makes me narrow my eyes on him.

Exactly how many times did he risk his neck today to get his pets back here?

I look at Jasper and color floods his cheeks. He grimaces.

“He begged very nicely,” he admits, and I press a finger between my brows.

Jasper helped .

I’m not sure if I’m more impressed by Lucky’s ability to wheedle what he wants out of our supposedly terrifying sadist, or if I’m still mostly frightened for them risking so much... especially when I only see this ending one way.

I try to ignore a third feeling nudging its way to the surface.

“Eden! Move your ass. Food’s almost ready,” Jayk barks from downstairs, and I jump, my head whipping back toward the inner balcony.

“Eden,” Lucky calls softly.

My name is a plea.

In his jacket, Henrietta squawks, her head bobbing up to peck at Lucky’s beard. His fingers are buried in her feathers.

Giving him a final glance, I stride over to the balcony and look down at Jayk. He’s leaning tiredly against the wall, waiting.

“I’m just helping someone. I’ll be down in a few minutes,” I call to him with as straight a face as I can muster, judiciously not lying.

He scowls, the beginnings of a stubborn glare kindling, and I brace my hands on the balustrade.

“Jayk, who gets to decide my priorities?” I ask with a dangerous smile, and the glare turns grumpy.

“You do,” he mutters.

“And whose responsibility is it to feed me?”

He kicks off the wall, rolling his eyes. “Help them fix their shit, then get down here. We can fight about it while I stuff your face.”

Can’t wait.

When I’m sure he’s gone, I rush back down the hall, and Lucky whispers a fervent, “Thank you, beautiful.”

“Just open the door,” I tell him, and we hustle Billy, Baa-bara, and Henrietta into Jasper’s room.

I close the door behind us, and when I turn, Billy is already nibbling on Jasper’s bedspread, and Jasper chases after her with a panicked admonition.

Lucky sets Henrietta down, and she pecks thankfully at his feet before strutting off. He straightens, giving me a nervous smile.

I lean back against the door while Jasper enters into a tug of war with a goat, his expression narrow-eyed and livid.

“How did you get them past the civilians?” I ask evenly, and Lucky gives me a sheepish look.

“I didn’t. I bribed a few of them with hair care products and they let us through.”

“Of course you did,” I mutter to myself. “The others didn’t notice they were missing?”

Lucky rubs the back of his head, and it dislodges his hair tie. The golden strands bunch and fall around his shoulders in a way that I’m not entirely sure was an accident, no matter how innocent he looks.

“Nah, they just wanted to get in and get out. There was already... a lot of death.” Something darker flickers over his expression, and my stomach turns.

In the background, Jasper succeeds in wrenching the bedspread out of the goat’s mouth—only for the other one to start urinating on his rug.

Jasper’s head tips back, defeated.

But I’m focused on Lucky.

“Why didn’t you just set them free?” I glance at Henrietta, and my heart tugs as I remember my first night here and the way she snuggled against Lucky’s chest.

I’ve been sharing him even before I realized it.

“It might have been kinder,” I add more softly.

Lucky’s expression firms up, his dimples nowhere to be found. “I’m not having civilians die because I’m sentimental, Eden. I just...” He looks down at Henrietta, too, and his lashes brush his cheekbones as he sighs. “I just don’t think we’re there yet. There’s still hope.”

Hope.

My eyes grow hot as I watch him. He’s so beautiful, I ache.

He still has hope. Despite everything.

And he believes in it enough to fight for it.

I’ve never had that kind of optimism, but with him... I’m starting to.

I look away, swallowing hard before I burst into tears, and I hear Jasper murmur.

“You see? He’s wicked, isn’t he?”

I choke on a laugh, nodding my agreement, then fix Lucky with a stern stare as I walk over to him. Grasping his shirt in both hands, I shake him lightly.

“Next time, come to me ,” I tell him, and his startled blue eyes have all the quick-running currents of rivers and waterfalls.

I dampen my lips as the prick of hurt and jealousy comes to the surface.

“I’ll be your distraction, Lucky. I’ll be your partner in crime.

I’ll... drive the getaway car or steal the bazooka or cover for you, even from the others.

I’ll help you with the stupid plans, okay?

” I sniff as my voice wobbles. “And, okay, I might try to make the plans a little less stupid, but my point is... you don’t need to keep secrets from me.

” Tears well in my eyes, and I soothe my hands over his chest. “If it’s important to you, then it’s everything to me. I’m on your team.”

His thumb finds my cheek, wiping away the tear, and the next thing I know, he’s spinning me around, kissing me with the kind of reckless, joyful passion only Lucky lives and breathes.

When he finally sets me down, he laughs, and his eyes are glassy, too.

“That might be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me,” he says, then adds absently, “Sorry, Jasper.”

“Oh no, never mind me,” Jasper mutters behind us.

But Lucky’s still looking down at me with the brightest, softest glow, his dimples staggering my heart with their cruel happiness in the middle of this awful day.

“Partners in crime it is, beautiful.”

I grin back at him, drinking in the joy, when there’s a musical rap at the door.

“When you’re all done being as sneaky as a cow in a bullpen,” Beau drawls from the other side, “come down for some food.”

Lucky freezes under my hand, and Jasper looks up from where he’s scrubbing at his rug.

I hear Beau push off the door as his voice turns dry.

“And Dom says to take the goats outside. At least out there they can graze.”

Five days after the attack on Bristlebrook, the arguing gets heated and this time, we can’t even contain it to a quiet room.

The clash between Arthur and Sawyer breaks out in the kitchen while I’m showing Soren how to make a bone broth, and it’s loud enough to make Kasey stick her head in.

Her brows drop as she takes them in, and she disappears a moment later.

“... so, we need to attack,” Sawyer snaps, his mustache bristling with anger.

Arthur throws his hands up, his cheeks red and splotchy. “They have us starved. Out-gunned. If they bring those trees across the moat, they can storm us?—”

“Then we’ll shoot them! Throw grenades before they get them down!” Sawyer slams his hand down on the counter, and Soren flinches, then hides it with a grimace. Sawyer’s voice lifts. “There’s no talking to Alastair, you old fool. We’re not trying it!”

Behind them, in the distance through the cracked kitchen window, the apple tree sways, and Jayk’s abandoned throne glints in the sun. Too close to the moat to be protected, it’s peppered with bullet holes now.

“Don’t you call me an old fool, you uneducated lout! I have three PhDs! I know what I’m talking about!” Arthur roars back.

“You don’t know Alastair!” Sawyer claps back.

“Oh-ho. No, not like you do.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Sawyer grits out.

There’s sweat beading along his hairline, though the afternoon is cool, and I glance down at Soren, standing carefully still.

He only just got out of bed today.

Setting down the pot lid, I pat his hand, then take a few steps forward, enough to get Arthur to abandon whatever argument he was about to spit out. I keep the counter between me and the men as my lips firm.

“You two need to find somewhere else to have this discussion,” I tell them politely, and Sawyer finally looks at me, anger and frustration snapping in his eyes.

My pulse leaps nervously, but Arthur’s shamefaced expression bolsters me, and I find more steel as I add, “I suggest finding Dom. You’ll need him for any decision-making, anyway.”

I’ve barely finished the words before Dom and Beau are skidding through the door, Kasey cool on their heels. She nods at Soren to come, and with a sigh, he removes his apron and leaves the kitchen.

Dom waits for him to leave, then slams the door in Kasey’s face before she can barge in.

His expression is hard and disapproving as he turns to look at Arthur and Sawyer. “What’s going on?”

Too casually, Beau strolls over to the other side of the room, leaning against the wall.

Boxing them in.

Arthur sighs, relaxing as Dom appears. “Yes, well, I think we need to concede. Nothing is changing, except for the worse. Historically, sieges are effective unless there’s something significant to change the status quo.

After their raid on the Reapers, they have enough food, water, and resources to sustain them—far more than we do.

We... I’m sorry to say it, but we need to surrender, or we’re going to die. ”

Sawyer is shaking his head as Arthur talks—panicked little shakes.

“No, no, no . We can’t surrender. There is no surrendering to Alastair.

He’s ruthless, he’ll kill us.” Sawyer looks over at Dom, desperate and imploring.

“We can’t talk to him. You can’t . We need to kill him first. We need to attack!

If we want any of us to survive, we need to attack.

” He points at me, and I stiffen. “Her. Eden. You want to keep her safe? If we hand ourselves over, Alastair will kill her too.”

Tension snaps through the room.

“Stop pointing at her, friend,” Beau drawls, but his pretty woodland eyes are deep, dark forests right now.

Sawyer drops his hand, but he shakes his head again. “We can use the side tunnel. Blow ’em up while they’re sleeping, like how you ambushed us for the raid. We can?—”

“Alastair was a SEAL, Sawyer. He knows how to keep a watch. It’s different.

We attack him, it won’t be much of a surprise,” Dom bites back, impatience simmering under his words.

“They have explosives too, three times what we have. It could be worth trying to talk to him before we give away our side tunnel. If it doesn’t work, we might be able to get some small groups out without them getting caught. ”

“ Do they have explosives?” Sawyer bursts out. “I heard even your boys muttering about it. Why haven’t they used them? Talking to Alastair is a death warrant .”

His desperation crawls over my nerves.

“They don’t need to waste their explosives!” Arthur interjects heatedly. “I’m sorry, I’ve tried to be polite, but you’re being unreasonable. We should look at every avenue to survive before we do something we can’t take back!”

Sawyer turns, storming toward him with blazing eyes, and Dom lunges forward to catch him with a curse.

“He killed dozens of us. Here, back home.” His voice cracks. “You can’t trust anything he says. He’s bluffing. I bet you he doesn’t have any expl?—”

The air detonates in a deafening, blistering roar, and I’ve dived behind the counter, my heart hammering before I realize it was outside. Something exploded outside.

“Eden?” Beau calls sharply.

“I’m okay, I— What was . . .?”

“Grenade launcher. Single directed shot,” Dom replies, and he storms out of the kitchen.

I stand as fast as I dove, my hands shaking... and it doesn’t take long to see the damage.

Through the window, the apple tree is no longer swaying. Two of its branches have been blown off, and its trunk is newly blackened and peppered with debris.

Beside it, there’s nothing.

Only a giant, flaming crater where Jayk’s throne used to be.

Six days after the attack on Bristlebrook, we raise a white flag, and Alastair finally leaves the tree line to walk up to the moat.

And he agrees to parley.