We shuffle forward, two men behind me, two in front, as Dimitri opens the plane door.
In moments, wet, suffocating tropical heat rushes in and settles into my cashmere sweater. My skin goes clammy. Nausea rolls up my spine. Thankfully, my stomach is too empty to participate.
A heady combination of sea salt, vegetation, and decay that always lingers in jungles wafts through my nose. I catch the smallest hint of hot engines and exhaust, indicating this airstrip is rarely used.
For a moment, I swear I smell burning buildings, gun smoke, and blood.
Part of me wishes I was back in my memories. Even that horror would be better than my current reality.
Bird calls echo through the open door as my guards hit the airstrip. Pushed from behind, I stumble into the harsh sunlight. My snow boots clang on the metal stairs and an unseen hand grasps my arm, pulling me forward as I struggle to adjust to the sudden brightness.
Blue and green spots cloud my vision, so I keep my head down, concentrating on my footing and avoiding direct light. I spotted it on our approach, but deboarding without any airport staff is still strange.
No one’s around to ask questions as I reach the broken cement and am immediately shoved into the idling SUV.
Dimitri sits up front, with Anton at the wheel.
Yakov drags me into a seat in the back, beside one of the others wearing wide sunglasses that hide his face. I don’t miss the perpetual snarl or the muscular build that brings Sylvester Stallone to mind. I’d rather face off with Sly than this asshole any day.
Once both SUVs are loaded up, we take off. The AC in the vehicle blasts through my sweat-damp sweater. I shiver, missing the thick, humid heat already.
On such a small island, spanning end to end doesn’t take long, but I’m still jarred when we screech to a halt minutes later.
The door flings open. Beyond the SUV, I spy only the edge of the road and the thick tangle of jungle starting to encroach on crumbling asphalt.
Yakov gets out as Sly shoves my back.
I slide out between them, still adjusting to the sunlight, and try to figure out what the hell we’re doing here.
Maybe they brought me here to kill me. I’ve screwed up so many times. And with Max gone…
Maybe we can be together in the next life.
I just need to get my hands on Dimitri one last time. Put him out of his miserable existence.
Except my half-brother doesn’t spare me a glance as he exits the vehicle. Instead, he confidently moves ahead, clad in hiking boots that match his khaki pants and loose short sleeve shirt.
He aims for a small break in the vegetation, certain of his direction.
It’s not until I’m pulled along behind him that I spy the wooden stake pounded into the damp earth with a faded plastic flag. A marker for the path we’re following.
Of course. This was always the destination. The endpoint. I just don’t know why.
I follow him blindly, much like I’ve done for more than half of my life. Now, I’m letting him lead me to my inevitable doom.
Just what I wanted for Christmas.
I realize I’m falling behind when Sly shoves me between my shoulders. Well, we can’t have that.
In my layers of clothing, I’m struggling. My mouth feels like cotton. A bead of sweat runs down my temple.
My boot catches on a hidden root, and I stagger and collapse.
Yakov snags me by the back of my sweater. Nearly choking me, he hauls me back onto my feet, just for Sly to give me another helpful push to keep walking.
The path steepens as mud gives way to stone steps. I’m at least ten feet in before I even notice the change in texture under my boots.
This isn’t some random trail. Someone maintained this and built it up. The higher we go, the farther we get from civilization, and the better the trail gets.
