Mara proceeds to recount the details to Dane as they walk around the area, cutting in and out of the trees. When she gets to the part about striking me with her knife, he whirls on her.
“You didwhat?” he yells, his face contorting with anger.
“She’s a traitor, Dane! She’s one of them now!” Her voice rises, matching his tone.
“She’s being tricked, Mara! Once we get her back, we’ll convince her again. She’ll see reason. But not if she’s maimed in the process! No one is to lay a hand on her, got it?”
His words make me squirm. In the depths of my being, I don’t believe them anymore. I don’t feel tricked, or convinced, or manipulated. For the first time in my life, I finally feel like I can make my own observations and decide for myself. I’ve lived among them, been accepted as part of them, been trusted. It can’t all be part of a sinister plot. It can’t be fake.
They round the curve in the path, and my heart speeds up.
“They can’t see us, right?” I murmur to Sig, my body frozen.
“No, they shouldn’t be able to, but we never had them look for us like this,” she whispers back.
Neither of us move so much as a finger. I can barely breathe as they walk directly in front of us, scanning the area below the lookout, touching trees, moving leaves.
They’re trying to find a portal.
Dane steps backward into the open path and looks around. His gaze moves over the trees and I hold my breath as it falls right on us.
And sees nothing.
He looks straight through me, without so much as a blink until his gaze moves past us and they continue down the path.
I let out the breath in a deep sigh. I thought I might feel doubt when I saw Dane again. Despite changing my mind about the Castaways and not believing Dane’s stories any longer, a small part of me wondered if all those feelings would turn back again the moment I looked into his eyes.
I wanted to. Everything I had worked to build, to gain trust, to find a way back, was to get home to him. I wanted him to look at me and remind me of everything that was between us, of the future he wanted together.
But just like he looked through me, I looked through him, too.
He may not have known it was happening, but I did look into his eyes, and I can’t help but feel that everything has changed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Darkness creeps over the sky before we finally leave the lookout. Dane and the others lingered in the area for hours before giving up and going elsewhere, and I felt a sense of relief wash over me once they were gone.
It has disappeared now though, as we head back through the tunnels to the ship, and dread slowly fills me. I know I told Sig I could handle Weston, but it is significantly worse this time around than after my first shift. If he was angry about some mud, I don’t want to see his reaction to this.
Hopefully, the gods are looking down on us and Weston is below deck, so Sig and I have a chance to sneak to the infirmary and get rid of the evidence. My blood-stained shirt with missing sleeves isn’t exactly inconspicuous. That’s not even considering all the other grass and dirt smeared over us, and my wild waves from the salted water.
Sig doesn’t look much better.
After Mara saw us and brought Dane and Storm to search the area, we can’t take any chances that they aren’t still out looking. We take extra precautions when we exit the portal before hurrying to the gangway. The deck is dim and quiet, and relieffloods me as my feet hit the boards, until the soft sound of voices carries to my ears.
I hear Weston before I see him. Stopping in the middle of the gangway, I drop my head back, closing my eyes and bracing myself for what’s about to happen.
“Oh fuck, here we go,” Sig grumbles under her breath.
Our steps drag as we take our time to get to the deck, but once we crest the top, my worries are realized. Weston sits perched on top of a barrel, his back to us, as he talks with some of the crew. Auralie and Stassia are among them, everyone lounging on the deck or other crates and barrels, enjoying the balmy, clear night.
He hasn’t seen us yet, and I glance toward the entrance below and consider making a run for it. The opportunity disappears when Auralie spots us, her eyes and mouth growing wide. Silence falls over the group as all eyes shift to us. Weston turns to look over his shoulder, his smile dropping quickly, only to be replaced by a hardened jaw.
“Clear the deck.Now,” he commands and springs to his feet. Everyone in the group jumps up and scrambles, disappearing below deck without a word or a glance in our direction. Weston charges toward us, a look of fury on his face that I haven’t seen since we came back from my first shift.
“Someone better start fucking explaining,” he growls, as he looks back and forth between us. He jerks to a halt, barely an arm’s length away as his eyes trail over me, up my slung arm and over my blood-soaked clothes to the dressing. His knuckles turn white as his fists clench at his sides. Shoulders pulling back and stiffening, he looks like he’s ready to pounce, but holds himself back.
He’s not touching me like last time, not after I told him not to.
