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“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he mocks, hinting he has the upper hand.
“Motherfucker,” I curse, hating how vulnerable we’ll be going out there. “What the hell is going on?”
Saint grips my elbow and leads me forward as it’s evident he rather we walk into this nightmare than be dragged. Armed men emerge from the shadows, eager to appease their queen, but Saint shrugs them off when they attempt to touch him.
When one beefy goon seizes my wrist and tugs me toward him, Saint launches forward, and with the swiftness of a cheetah, he headbutts him. Other men don’t fancy getting knocked out cold like the chump at my feet, so they gesture with their heads that we’re to move.
Max, Sara, and Zoey don’t get the same treatment and are hauled forward. They don’t fight because they too have no idea what’s going on. The men seem to know better than to touch Pavel. He bends down and picks up the duffel.
We walk toward our doom, dodging and winding past the trees, unsure what our fate will bring. When we break past the safety of the woods and are exposed in the clearing, I see the starkness of our reality up close.
We are surrounded, and no matter how much ammo we have, it would never be enough. They have more manpower, and without a doubt, we were destined to lose this fight. I can’t shake the guilt I feel because even though I knew we would be outnumbered, I thought we’d at least have a fighting chance.
But we don’t.
We are outnumbered about twenty to one.
When I stumble forward, thanks to one of the men shoving me in the back, I lock eyes with Alek. He gasps when he sees me, but I’m not sure if it’s in shock or relief. Up close, he looks worse than I thought. When he flinches, it’s apparent he’s broken something.
Seeinghimkneeling and bound should give me satisfaction. It doesn’t.
“What are you doing here?” He focuses beyond me, his mouth agape. “What are you all doing here?”
Saint is by my side in an instant, but there is no doubt his focus is divided. When Oscar smirks that reptilian grin, I almost leap forward and smack it from his face.
“It seems trouble follows wherever you go.” Astra directs her comment at me, and I can’t help but smile in response.
The distance did her justice because now that I’m up close, holy shit, she looks like Frankenstein’s bride. Oscar mentioned she was wounded in the explosion, but he failed to mention she’s missing an eye. I doubt the black eyepatch she wears is in the support of pirates worldwide.
Small red scars slash her face, probably from the shrapnel, thanks to Pavel’s bombs. No wonder she played nice with Ingrid. She isn’t keen on reliving the past.
“And it seems someone will need to follow wherever you go in case you bump into a tree. Wow. Can you see me?” I wave my hands in front of me. Saint snickers.
She doesn’t appreciate my dig and makes that clear when she nods to one of her men who comes up behind me. Before I have a chance to smack his hands away, he frisks me, removing the gun from the small of my back. Thankfully, he doesn’t feel the bulletproof vest.
The rest of the puppets do the same to Max, Sara, Pavel, Zoey, and Saint. Ingrid looks at me, her eyes pleading. But pleading for what? She’s the one who threw us under the bus, and I can only hope there’s a good reason for it.
Once we’re disarmed, Astra hobbles forward. I pray she falls on her ass as her heeled boots and cane aren’t exactly snow-appropriate attire.
I yawn, looking down at my imaginary watch, hinting Astra’s walk is more like a stroll. A sloth’s stroll. “Holy shit, bitch likes to make an entrance. Hurry up already before I die from hypothermia.”
My words are her fuel and all it takes is a simple nod before I’m gasping for air as one of her men strikes me in the stomach with the butt of his rifle. Saint elbows the man in the nose swiftly, ready to gouge out his eyeballs.
But when Zoey yelps, his rage soon simmers.
I’m bent in half, winded, but manage to look up to see Zoey’s neck tilted back at a grotesque angle. A man has his fingers threaded through her hair, arching her head backward. She slaps at his hand, but he replies by pressing a serrated knife to her throat.
Astra smiles when she witnesses my panic.
“Let her go,” Saint snarls, his fists clenched. It’s taking every ounce of willpower he has not to charge over and kill the man who dares to touch his sister with his bare hands.
“Oh, please, things have only just begun,” Oscar says before blowing him a kiss. “I’ve missed you. My bed is awfully cold without you.”
A fury unleashes from Saint as he propels forward, fists curled into claws, but he soon stops dead in his tracks when I scream out in pain. I didn’t mean to, but the bastard who just kidney punched me caught me unawares. I drop to my knees, gasping in air.
For good measure, he knees me in the nose.
I tumble onto my back, the world spinning around me. I try to sit up but am put back down when someone pistol whips me. Blood clouds my vision. “Motherfucker,” I slur, watching the white snow turn a deep shade of crimson with my blood.
