Page 31 of Hunted

“It took me a couple days, but I managed to pull myself together, knowing I needed to take care of the bodies. They were too close to camp to just leave there. I buried my dad and dumped the other men in that cave.” She glances at the other three, who nod in understanding.

“I put all their stuff there, too, not wanting to see any of it again. But I kept one knife.” She pulls her knife out from her sheath and turns it from side to side.

“McStabby,” Bower says quietly, and she nods.

“I thought giving him a fun name would help me forget who he belonged to.”

“Did it work?” I ask, unable to keep quiet anylonger.

She glances at me and shrugs, her eyes returning to her knife. “Mostly. At first it was hard, but I knew not having a knife would make my life here even more difficult, so it was worth it.”

“Is that…” King trails off, unable to finish his question, and she nods.

“It’s the knife that killed my dad. I knew he’d tell me to keep it. That practicality and survival were more important. So I cleaned it and kept it.”

“Fucking hell,” Bower whispers, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. I know the feeling.

“You dragged three full-grown men all the way through the jungle to that cave?” West asks, awe filling his voice.

She nods, returning her knife to her sheath.

“After I had dealt with the bodies, I went back to make sure nothing was left and that’s when I saw Steve. I don’t know why I picked him up. But I felt like God had put him in my path to help me, and that made him special, so I wanted to keep him close. He helped me when I had no one. So I cleaned him up and gave him a name. Whenever I held him, he made me feel safer.”

I swallow heavily, finally understanding the true extent of her relationship with her rock… with Steve.

“There was a storm when it happened, wasn’t there?” West asks, making me look at him in confusion. She never mentioned any storm.

She looks at him in alarm, then slowly shakes her head. His brows furrow as he seems to consider her.

“Zee…” he says slowly. “Did something else happen?”

She avoids his eyes, looking guilty as she replies, “I don’t know what you mean.”

He turns to me and asks, “Was she afraid of storms before she came here?”

“No, why?”

He looks back at her as he asks again, “Zee, what happened during the storm?”

She shakes her head fast, a few stray tears rolling down her cheeks as she whispers, “Don’t ask me that.”

My eyes widen in confusion and fear.

What could she be hiding that’s worse than being raped in front of her own father?

West watches her for a few seconds before he nods and gets to his feet. “Okay, you don’t have to answer.” He steps up to her and hugs her tightly against him. “I’m so proud of you for telling us all of that. Just know you’re safe now. We’ve got you.”

I slowly stand, feeling so much tension within myself that I think I might explode if I don’t release it. Where’s a damn punching bag when you need one?

“I’ll be back in a couple minutes,” I mutter, quickly heading out of camp and back to the beach. I am beyond grateful when I see nobody is following me. I don't want to be near anyone right now.

My mind reels through everything I just learned.She was raped. My sweet girl was fuckingraped. Not only that, but it was by three dirty pirates who forced her dad to watch. I shake my head, unable to comprehend how frightened and scared she was in that moment.

I reach the beach and walk a little further away from camp before I drop down in the sand and pound my fist against it. It hurts, but it’s better than giving a tree my right hook and breaking a bone.

I start to throw punches from both hands, my speed increasing as thoughts of thirteen-year-old Darla being assaulted flood my mind. Before I know it, I’m screaming into my hands, trying to muffle my rage, not wanting her to hear me.

I feel moisture on my fingers and pull back, expecting to see blood, but it’s just… wet. I touch my cheeks and realize I’m crying.I never fucking cry.