Page 62

Eden

Some things aren’t for men to decide.

I’m almost at breaking point.

It’s been five days since the raid. Five days since the Reapers set up camp. The Red Zone representatives still aren’t here.. . and Jayk hasn’t given an inch of ground to the others.

Or to me.

If I have to spend one more night with his cock drilling a hole into my spine and not be able to do anything about it, I’m going to scream.

Platonic , he says. Asshole. If I get my hands on whoever put that ridiculous, absurd idea into Jayk’s overprotective head, they’re dust .

Simmering with frustration, I pick up my tray. The full pitcher of ice-cold water and the softly scented, rolled towelettes are prettily displayed. It was the kind of thing I used to arrange for Henry’s parties, in a different life, but on a much smaller scale.

I just hope it does the trick.

Ava looks me up and down, not budging from in front of the door.

“Left pocket,” I mutter.

She raises a brow, then reaches in, tugging free a small, wrapped parcel.

She sniffs it and shivers. “So worth it.” She steps out of the way, holding the kitchen door open for me.

She tilts her head consideringly. “Hey, so if you feel like losing your shit at Jayk for being unreasonable, kicking him out, and choosing yourself over the dick bouquet, I’ll split my winnings with you. ”

Winnings? Are they . . . betting on me?

Again ?

“Possibly to the first part, no to the second, and I’d like to choose myself and the dick bouquet, thank you very much,” I tell her politely, and she sighs.

“Yeah. It was long odds.”

I blow out a laugh as we head outside, and she helps me down the stairs. The humidity is as bad outside as it was inside; it’s like wading through a warm pond. Sweat beads in the small of my back, and it pools under my heavy hair, which I’ve left loose and flowing.

Right at this moment, I’m regretting it.

We pass Ethel, looking thinner and frailer than usual, scolding a stubborn-faced Kasey—again.

“I was being safe ! It didn’t matter anyway,” Kasey sulks. “They moved the food. I couldn’t get you anything.”

“That’s not the point, my girl. You can’t just take risks like...”

In the distance, I see Pete and Buck across the moat, chatting to Mila. Buck throws her something, and her laugh carries over the lawn.

A part of me had hoped that the Reapers would have given in by now and offered more food, particularly as things have become more dire, but it’s a part I try not to let get out of hand. They’re holding their advantage. We can hold our defenses.

They’ve still been very sweet, on the whole. Last night, they even put on an impromptu concert. Cole, as it turns out, has quite a passable singing voice—though since the news from their farmlands, the songs were far from happy.

Softly, I smile at Ava. “There’s lots of potential bouquets out there now. Why don’t you go give everyone something more interesting to bet on?”

Ava grimaces, glancing at the Reapers. It’s twilight, but Jennifer and Sawyer have met back up for dinner today, as well as breakfast this morning.

They’re sitting almost in the middle of the bridge, their feet dangling over the pikes.

The two other heavy, unused bridges for the moat lie stacked nearby, gathering dust, and I wonder, a little wistfully, if they’ll ever be used. If we’ll ever have enough trust to allow that kind of open access to Bristlebrook again.

Maybe with enough new friends or lovers.

More people kicking their feet over dangerous ground.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

At my amused nod, she snorts. “Look, don’t get me wrong, I love the idea of men—it’s just the reality I have a problem with.” She shivers. “They just have so many opinions . I like them better on that side of the moat. Or, you know, in my head.”

I press my lips together to hide my smile, looking at her sideways. “Mhm.”

She doesn’t smile back. “Eden... are we joining up with them?”

My smile fades. “I don’t know.” My stomach is in knots just thinking of what’s to come. “I don’t know, Ava.”

It won’t be long before we need to make a decision and, selfishly, I wish I could drag it out as long as possible. Right now, my brutes are safe.

I’m not ready for that to change.

She nods, but her hands are impatient, settling over her pistol, then her belt. “Look, Jennifer, Clare, Sara—a lot of them, they have no problem with it.” Something dark flickers over her features. “But, for me, even before Day Death, there were things that. . . I just can’t. . .”

My throat thickens. “I know.”

Ava’s shoulders relax when I don’t argue.

“It was one thing going to Red Zone, you know? Heather supported the op, and they’d been giving us information for weeks.

They had women and kids there—maybe not thriving, but they were content enough.

And Bentley helped get Heather back... They stepped up.”

The grass crunches underneath our feet.

“You came back here,” I venture.

“Because Heather vouched for them.” Ava’s lips curve in a dangerous smile. “We also had your men more than a little outnumbered. It was different. It was always our choice.” Her gaze flicks back to the Reapers boxing us in. “I don’t like being pressured.”

My hollow stomach clenches.

We’re already almost through the raided supplies, and I’m almost entirely back on a slop-only diet. Yesterday, Ethel was put on official bed rest in the med bay, right along with Shelby, whose blood pressure keeps dropping.

I don’t like being pressured, either—whether I understand their desperation or not.

Ava touches my arm, slowing me, careful not to disrupt my tray.

“We’ll do it, you know? We’ll go with them. If you think it’s a good idea.”

Hesitating, I shift my tray. “You mean if Jayk does?”

“No.” Ava meets my eyes. “Not the men. Not for this.”

But . . . why me?

As if she can see the question, she gives me a stiff smile. “Jasper was right, Eden. You got us out of Cyanide.”

“Not all of us,” I reply, and the quick surge of guilt makes my voice sharp.

Every day, I think about Heather and Bentley.

Ava nods, her face as grim as mine, and I sigh. Over by the dry moat, Mila is so close, she’s almost pressed against the barbed wire. She wolf-whistles at Buck as he buckles a heavy bag onto Cherub the mule’s back.

“I don’t know if I trust them,” I say to Ava. “But I know that if we do join up with them . . . it will be because it’s the best option we have.”

She exhales heavily. “I was really hoping this would be a more reassuring conversation.”

I give her a rueful smile. “Sorry.” I watch Buck turn red to his receding hairline as he stammers something back to Mila. “They do seem okay.”

Ava looks over to watch the Reapers too, her eyes on Jennifer’s feet kicking happily over the bridge.

“Yeah. They do.” Her voice is heavy as she adds, “But men lie.”

My throat fills, and I don’t know if it’s with fear or wistfulness.

But my gaze drifts, finding the two men grinning like five-year-olds over their matching bows, and it begins to ease.

“Some don’t,” I whisper, and Ava follows my gaze.

After a moment, she nods softly. “Some don’t.”

When Jennifer—pierced, tattooed, took-out-five-Sinners-without-flinching-at-Cyanide, tough-as-nails Jennifer—starts giggling helplessly, Ava rolls her eyes.

“Come on.”