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For a disoriented moment he lay in a ball on the wet grass. Then agony screamed from his left arm. Blinking against the black spots in his vision, he struggled upright, clutching his injured limb. A jagged piece of stone poked out of his jacket. He yanked it free with a grunt, then applied pressure. The stone had gouged between the bones of his forearm, and turning his hand even a fraction was torture.
Hugging his arm to his stomach, he set out at a jog over the uneven ground.
The explosion had littered the walkway to the Treehouse with wood and other debris. He reached into his pocket for the mini tablet, calming when he saw all the dots still clustered around the Treehouse. The dot of the tablet appeared several yards away. Without a thought, he hurled the tablet into the woods behind him, as far as it would go.
He couldn’t believe anything but that Hartley was still alive. She was a fighter. And more than that, Karol had to want her to see the devastation he was causing. That made perfect sense for a madman.
When he felt a hot trickle down his arm, he twisted his ruined jacket to increase the pressure on his wound. He limped closer to the Treehouse, but circled wide around the debris. There was enough smoke to keep him hidden from sight.
He crouched low as he shuffled toward the hedge that circled the Treehouse. He had to hope that his filthy clothing gave him adequate camouflage. If Karol saw him, he knew the man’s plans would change.
No more explosions. Karol would kill Hartley and make him watch.
CHAPTER32
The obliteration Hartley had half hoped for didn’t happen. At least not according to the roar of flames and splintering wood that clattered around her. The explosion she’d triggered with her head butt had set off a burst of heat, light, and flying debris that now pelted her back and hands.
Definitely still alive, she thought, disappointed.
Jackal had disappeared, and for a second she hoped he’d been blown away. But he’d only been blown forward, into the Treehouse’s massive trunk. He turned now and surveyed the destruction behind her, his eyes reflecting flames.
He scrambled back to her, and she noticed one leg didn’t move normally. He leaned close with a cackle. “Good work. You destroyed the house. But you didn’t get us, no, no, no, not yet.”
He grabbed his pants to pull his leg closer, and she saw that a long spike of wood had impaled his calf, entering just behind his knee. The pant leg had suffused with blood until everything from his knee down was black. He didn’t seem to notice.
“Look, look,” he exhorted, shoving her onto her back and closer to the edge of the Treehouse platform. Then he grabbed her throat and yanked her up, shook her. The motion moved her even closer to the charred edge.
Her vision blurred with tears of frustration. Her heart thudded, every beat calling her a failure. She was going to die alone, and that was fine. She had to believe everyone else had gotten away, that she’d given them the time they needed to get to safety.
“Let’s see if your lawyer friend wants to join the party,” Jackal suggested, dangling the tablet before her.
As he pressed the icon labeledTopkapiand held the flashing circle, a raw scream tore from her throat.
“No!” she cried, her tears dropping to the wooden floor. Every ounce of hope drained with them.
She turned away, staring at the flames engulfing the Savannah House, while the newest explosion at Topkapi made the Treehouse shake again. She sobbed quietly, the blur of her tears strangely giving a section of the falling debris a human shape. She blinked. She wasn’t imagining it. The human-debris shape moved. It was a figure, and the familiarity of it shot a spike into her chest.
Monty.
She would recognize his shape anywhere. A rush of hope flooded through her, and she forced herself to stay completely still, not even allowing a change in her breathing, lest she give herself—and him—away.
He crept closer, keeping close to the hedge but exposed by the glow of the fire. His expression was set in stone, his face pointing toward the Treehouse. Finally, as if she’d willed it, their eyes met. In that moment they shared an unspoken promise. He held his arms tight against his stomach, but grimaced and moved one hand to gesture at her. “Stay down, stay calm,” the movement said. Then he kissed his fingers and raised his hand to salute her.
She tucked her chin in the slightest of nods, her mind racing as she searched for a distraction. “I know what you really want,” she shouted to capture Jackal’s attention, her voice anguished. Pushing herself with all her strength, she rolled into him, her hip colliding hard against his bad leg.
He didn’t even wince. Jackal smirked. “How could you know anything I want?”
“I know what Karol wants, and he wants Anya,” she retorted. “Come on, Karol. I know you’re in there. This whole time, all you had to do was ask me. Did Jackal keep you from doing that? Is Jackal only focused on death and pain?”
A flicker of something crossed Jackal’s face. Was it doubt? Fear? For a second, the cruel, sneering mask faltered, revealing a hint of the man Hartley had hoped was still there.
“Karol, I can help you,” she insisted.
But the mask returned. “Karol can’t hear you. He’s trapped inside, powerless, just like you,” Jackal spat.
Refusing to be deterred, she pressed on. “I’m not powerless. I have love. You loved someone, Karol. Monty’s gone, but I still love him. I will until the second Jackal kills me. If you ever loved Anya, this is your time to prove it.”
The internal battle was palpable on Jackal’s face, his muscles bunching then smoothing as two people fought inside him for control.
