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His reaction fascinates me more than it should. I can't help it. Blaise has gotten nervous around me before, and I want to understand why. How can someone so rough and intense be afraid of me?
When he catches me watching him, he clears his throat. "You're okay, though, right?"
I nod then look away, wiping my damp palms off on the sides of my cargo pants. The open scrapes burn, and I flip my hands over, inspecting the injuries.
Blaise tracks my gaze, and then his mouth plummets. He reaches for my hands, but wrenches back as Ryder steps between us.
"Aw, poor baby." Ryder cups his hand underneath mine and examines the wounds. "How badly does it hurt?"
"Not too badly." I shiver as Ryder traces a finger around a particularly deep abrasion. "Some sting, but just a little."
He sucks in a breath at the sight of a torn off fingernail. "I think you're downplaying the pain." He draws off the hood of his oversized green jacket. "I tore off a fingernail before. It fucking hurt almost as badly as when I broke a finger."
"I've torn a few off before, too." My hands quiver as I recollect when a visitor used a gripping device to pry my fingernails off my hand. The pain sucked the breath out of me, and I nearly passed out. "This doesn't hurt as badly." I instantly regret what I said as sadness fills Ryder's eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"Of course you should've." He brushes strands of his blond hair out of his eyes. "I want you to say whatever you're feeling whenever you're feeling it. You don't have to hold back with us."
"But what I said made you sad. And I don't like doing that ... to anyone."
"I'm not sad. I'm heartbroken over what you had to go through. But I never want you to feel like you can't talk to me about what happened. I want you to tell me everything whenever you're ready, okay?" He waits for me to nod then turns to Blaise. "Did you bring any bandages? I forgot to pack some."
"Of course you did," Blaise grumbles. "I put some in everyone's bag." He leans over to retrieve a tattered backpack from the ground. "I don't know why you can't remember to pack shit. You're lucky I'm on top of stuff, or we'd be fucking screwed all the time." He shoves the bag at Ryder, and then his eyes fall to the scrapes on my palm. "Make sure to clean those thoroughly. I don't want her getting an infection." He tears his gaze off my hand then steps toward the bottom of the cliff.
"I think he likes you," Ryder remarks after Blaise is out of earshot. "If it were mine or Reece's hands, he'd tell us to deal with it and not waste the bandages."
"Maybe we shouldn't wrap my hands then. I don't want to waste anything." I start to pull my hands away, but Ryder intensifies his grip.
"No way. We're taking care of these. I'll feel like an asshole if I don't. And Blaise would kick my ass." He lets go of my hand then hitches the backpack over his shoulder. "Once he cares about someone, there's no going back. He's an all-in or nothing kind of guy, so now he's going to protect you at all costs, even if it means going against his crazy, control issues, like his need to stretch our supplies."
I steal a glance over at Blaise. He's clutching the rope, making sure Reece doesn't fall down the cliff. There's no way Blaise likes me more than Ryder and Reece. He barely knows me. And if he really knew me, he'd despise me.
"I'm sure he likes you guys just as much as me, if not more." I look back at Ryder. "Even if he does yell at you for using the bandages."
"Maybe." Ryder searches my eyes then sighs heavily. "Come on. Let's get you all fixed up."
Carefully holding one of my hands, he guides me down the dirt trail. When we reach a cluster of rocks, he releases my hand and drops the bag to the ground.
"Sit down so I can play doctor." He flashes me a mischievous grin then starts rummaging through the bag.
I lower myself onto a rock perfectly shaped for sitting and rest my hands on my lap. "I really am fine if you want to ..." I trail off as I flip over my hands.
Every single wound has healed, and my fingernails have grown back to a normal length. The only sign I was ever injured are the remnants of dry blood on my palms and fingers. I healed quickly back when I hit my head on the shelf and when I dislocated my shoulder. At first, I thought it might be that my injuries weren't as severe as Blaise thought, but then Mable tested my blood and discovered my blood is similar to that of the Grims.
I quickly ball up my hands. "You know what? I really don't think we should waste the bandages."
"Would you knock it off?" he asks in a playful tone. "We're fixing your hands up, and that's that."
My breaths quicken as I try to figure a way out of this. I don't want to be a liar, but if Ryder sees my hands, he'll know something's wrong with me.
"I-I think I might be allergic to bandages," I sputter.
He glances up from the bag with his brows knit. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Thankfully, my voice comes out even. "I just remembered one of the wardens saying something about the adhesive on bandages messing up my skin. I think it gave me hives and blisters." It's not entirely a lie. It happened because the bandages were left on for too long. When the wardens finally tore them off, layers of my skin came off, too.
He meticulously studies me, and it takes a lot of effort not to squirm.
"No, that's not it." He kneels down in front of me and places his hands on top of my thighs. "You don't need to be scared. Whatever it is, you can tell me."
I stare at his hands, unsure of what to say. I'm a terrible liar. I don't know if that's always a bad trait to have, but right now, it definitely is.
"I just don't want to bandage my hands," is all I can think to say.
He hooks a finger underneath my chin and tilts my head up. "If you don't want to, then I won't make you, just like I won't force you to tell me the truth. I hope you change your mind, though."
His kind, warm eyes draw me in, and I nearly break down and confess everything Mable told me. But then Blaise hollers that he needs Ryder's help with the ropes, and the moment shatters.
Ryder pushes to his feet. "I'll be right back." He starts to walk off, but then pauses. "If you change your mind, the bandages are in my bag."
I nod, and then he runs off toward Blaise and Reece. I keep my eyes on him until I'm certain he's distracted, and then I dig around in my backpack for the fingerless gloves I brought with me from the East City Post. I find them stuffed at the bottom underneath the blankets, clothes, food, and bottles of water and quickly slip them on. Then I contemplate what to tell Ryder if he mentions the absence of wounds on my hands. But not a single legitimate excuse comes to mind.
I stay on the rock while Reece, Ryder, and Blaise pack up the climbing gear. When my stomach grumbles in hunger, I grab a bottle of water and a snack out of the bag.
I'm just tearing into a piece of beef jerky when a scream echoes from somewhere along the cliffs. The noise triggers an unexpected flashback of m
e sprinting through a field with a growling animal chasing after me. I want to know what the animal is, but I'm too frightened to look.
The images fizzle when I hear the sound of thundering footsteps.
I look over at the cliff and see Reece, Ryder, and Blaise sprinting up the trail toward me with their guns out.
"Allura, pack up your stuff," Ryder shouts. "We have to go!"
I barely have time to shove the jerky and water into my bag before they reach me.
"We need to go. Now." Ryder reiterates, out of breath. He grabs his backpack then snatches my wrist and lifts me to my feet.
"Where do you think it came from?" Reece pants, his gaze skimming the cliffs.
Blaise checks the ammo in his gun. "My guess is from a lower trail."
"Let's hope that's it." Reece wipes sweat from his brow. "If they're down below us, it's going to take them longer to get up here."
Blaise glances at the gaping hole in the ground to the side of us. "Up or down, they're going to get to us quickly if they know we're here."
"Then let's go." Ryder starts down the trail, towing me with him.
"Would you wait a damn minute?" Reece snaps. "We need a plan before we just go running off."
Ryder slows down. "The plan's to get the hell away from here. We can't let them find us, especially Allura."
"Yeah, I know," Reece says. "But running off and hoping they don't track us isn't the best way to do this. We need to be cautious and careful, make sure our tracks are covered."
I open my mouth to ask what's going on, but another scream cuts me off.
"Shit," Blaise curses, aiming the gun everywhere his gaze roams. "They're fucking closer than I thought."
"Who's they?" I ask. "Is it another Tracker?"
"No." Blaise's eyes are crammed with worry. "It's the Forsaken, and that scream is their hunting call."
Chapter Two
Invisible Scars
Terror surges through me. Hunting call? We're being hunted? I've been hunted before. Now I'm being hunted again.
I don't have time dwell on my worried thoughts, because another scream rings across the desert and snaps me back to reality.
"Shit, we need to move. Now." Blaise circles the area, clasping the handle of the gun. He glances up, down, left, right, and then his gaze fastens on Reece. "What's our next move?"
Ryder looks at Reece with the same expectant look as Blaise. Blaise once told me they didn't have a boss, but Reece seems like the one in charge, whether intentionally or not.
