“Shay?”Anchor’s voice was sharp.Urgent.“Give the phone to Prime.Right now.”
My pulse spiked.“Okay, uh, hold on—”
Prime came out of the bathroom naked, and while I always appreciated seeing him sans clothes, I knew now was not a time to appreciate him.He froze when he saw my face.
“What’s wrong?”he asked, already reaching for the phone.
“I don’t know,” I whispered.“Anchor just said to give it to you.”
Prime snatched it from my hand and hit speaker.“What?”he barked.
Anchor didn’t waste a second.“Another body,” he said.“And this one is not a skeleton.It’s still warm.”
A shiver shot down my spine so hard it made my teeth ache.
Still warm.That meant… alive not that long ago.
Recent.
Too recent.
Prime’s entire body went rigid.
Anchor kept talking.“I already called Doc.Wannabe and Push are bringing the body to the cellar now.I’m going to bring Pearl back to the clubhouse so you can keep an eye on the girls with Lost.”
Prime exhaled sharply through his nose.“Yeah,” he said.“I’m here.”
“I’ll update you when I get her inside,” Anchor replied.Then the line clicked off.
Prime stood there for a second, staring at the dead phone screen.His teeth clenched so hard I was afraid his jaw would snap.
I pulled the sheet up around me, heart hammering.“Prime…”
He finally looked at me.
And there it was: fear, anger, and protectiveness, all tangled into one brutal knot behind his eyes.
“We’ve got each other.I’ll protect you with my dying breath,” he said quietly.“But that doesn’t mean any of this is over.”
I nodded and swallowed the lump in my throat.
Because he was right.
Nothing was over.
Not even close.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Push
This was one of those moments I wished I’d been born with a silver spoon in my mouth.A college fund.Or anything that didn’t involve hauling corpses around like I was the island’s personal gravedigger.
The woman’s body lay half-twisted on the damp ground, face turned toward the trees, and her hair matted to her cheek.Fresh.
Wannabe grunted beside me, leaning down, with his hands under her shoulders.“This chick is heavier than she looks.”
“She’s dead,” I muttered.“People always feel heavier when they’re dead.”
