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I watched him walk up, dressed in dark clothes, waited patiently as he fumbled through the trusty bobby pin routine on my deadbolt. When he stepped inside the house, I hid, so I could see what that fucker would do next.
He went right upstairs. I followed. He’s so unobservant, he had no idea I was right there, looking over his shoulder as he put my clothes on, went down to the den and put my gun together. I’m surprised he managed to get ammo into it.
Now that he’s striding through the woods, I’m fucking terrified. I’ve got a stun gun and a throwing star—two weapons that survived my self-harm purge.
Jesus Christ, why did I sell my guns?
I know Gwenna is at the top of the hill, and that’s where he’s going. My whole body is ice cold. I’m shaking like I never did before this. Jesus, I’m an Operator, but I just can’t stop shivering. I’m such a fucking wreck that it’s a struggle to stay quiet behind him. As I stalk him, I can feel my phone vibrating in my pocket: call after call. And I know why now. Too bad for Dove and Blue: I can’t answer.
I tell myself, in desperation, that he’s trying to impress her. Mimic me or something. I don’t fucking know.
But I can’t stop shaking. I can’t fucking breathe as I gain on him just a little. Up, up, up the hill. I hear her footfall on the leaves. She’s coming down. Oh God, I fucking see her.
My reflexes are still fast, so even though my right hand sucks, I throw the star before he gets the gun’s nose pointed at her. It flies fast and far—but hits his shoulder, not his spine.
Niccolo whirls: eyes wide, face twisted, gun raised.
TWENTY-NINE
Gwenna
February 14, 2016
OH MY GOD, THAT’S BARRETT!
He’s so thin it takes a second to be sure, but I can feel him before my eyes identify his face and body. My heart swells to twice its size, surging so hard and fast, I almost fall right over.
I’m alight. Alive.
My mouth opens—I want to scream and run to him—but Barrett’s eyes are not on me. His arm jerks up. I see the man in camo flinch, and then whirl. He’s clumsy, teeters on his heel. He holds the giant gun clumsily, but it’s pointed at Barrett.
Time stops as Bear holds his hands up. I can see him walking slowly toward the masked man. I can see his face go white. Just one time, his eyes flick to mine. I can read him like a book: RUN, GWEN!
I can’t.
“It’s okay,” he says loudly to the gunman. He waves, as if nothing is the matter. “Hunting?”
“You—” The masked man shakes his head. His back is facing me now, as he’s turned toward Barrett, lower down the hill. I see a crimson stain seep through his camo, near the shoulder blade, and realize Barrett must have…I don’t know. Bear doesn’t have a gun, does he?
The masked man laughs, wielding his own long rifle. “Did you throw a knife at me?”
I know that voice.
I hear it laugh.
“How many times have you played checkers? Dammit, woman. I can never win.”
My stomach bottoms out.
It’s Nic.
I hold my arms out, desperate to convey this to Barrett somehow. My mind spins. What is going on here?
Again, Bear’s gaze hits mine. Go!
“It was a throwing star,” he says calmly. “Sorry, man. Is that you, Nic? I wasn’t sure. I just got home and saw someone head up this way. Guess I panicked.”
Barrett shrugs, and if my brain weren’t pealing with alarm bells from the strangeness of the situation, I would believe what he is saying.
