Is that why Weston has been so protective? So he can keep me safe and use me to get what he wants from Dane? He’s told me repeatedly he won’t hurt me, or touch me, that he wants to trust me. Yet he followed me, he captured me, and he imprisoned me.
To use me to bargain for a way home.
“He can try, but he won’t get anything from me.”
My chest swells and warmth washes over my body.
He’s looking for me. He hasn’t given up on me. The Voyagers never seemed to have hope of rescuing previous members who fell victim to the Castaways, but Dane hasn’t given up hope for me. He wants me back, and I hope he knows that I’m trying, too.
“And if he dares to show his face on my island, he won’t make it out alive,” he growls as he rounds the corner, disappearing down the path.
My breath hitches slightly and the warmth I just felt from the realization he is searching for me runs cold. The hatred in Dane’s tone brings me back to the other night, trying to steal my dagger from Weston, contemplating if I could kill someone in cold blood.
Could Dane?
He’d never shown me that side of him before, but now, hearing his words, his voice, I can’t help but picture it.
There was a moment when Sig dragged me down that I thought I made the wrong choice, but now I don’t think I did.
Not only has my action, or inaction, given them something to trust, but I have learned important information about Weston’s motives. It may have shown me a side to Dane I didn’t know was there, but that isn’t a priority right now. I’ll deal with that if I need to.
Weston’s mind games won’t have any hold on me now that I know he’s trying to use me, and that is why he’s keeping me safe. It isn’t out of concern for me, or for my well being. What makes me so special? What else would make him follow me around the island, pull me from the water, and keep me alive?
He needs me to get to Dane.
But Dane won’t let him.
Unlike Weston, I actually trust Dane. I trust him to do what is best for me, and I need to get back to him.
Sig lifts her hand from my mouth and rolls off me, falling onto her back and letting out a loud sigh.
“You didn’t scream,” she says. She stares up at the sky, waiting to hear my explanation.
I shake my head. “No. I didn’t.”
“Why?” She turns her head, and her eyes meet mine. It reminds me of the night back on the beach, when she was searching me for weapons. Her eyes held her apology then, even though her face was covered. Now they are filled with curiosity and doubt, and maybe a little hope.
My lips turn up in a small smirk, even though my insides tumble with uncertainty. “Maybe I do like you three after all.”
A smile lights up her face and she chuckles softly. “See, I knew getting away from him would get your head on straight.”Pushing up from the mud, she sits and looks over her shoulders for Stassia and Auralie.
I push up and rock back to my knees just as I feel something shift under me. My head swivels around as I stare down at the mud surrounding me and watch as it starts moving.
Not moving, sinking.
Oh shit.
“Sig,” I say, trying and failing to hide the panic in my voice. I throw out my arms for balance as the unstable ground threatens to knock me over.
“Fuck! Stass!” Sig hisses out to the darkness, her voice low enough that Dane and Storm wouldn’t have heard.
I try to get onto my feet, yanking my limbs from the sticky muck, but the more I move, the faster I sink.
“Stass! Auralie!” Sig hisses again, the urgency rising in her voice as she slowly starts sinking, her legs disappearing underneath her.
I hear a splash nearby, followed by Stassia whisper yelling, “Oh fuck. Hang on!”
My chest sinks below the surface, and the deeper I go, the harder it is to move. The thickness surrounds me, pressing in and sucking me down. Sig is up to her waist as she tries to lean closer to me. She reaches out for my hands and grips my wrists, squeezing so tight I’m sure I’ll have bruises.
