Page 98 of Unwanted

The man in front of them was not going to let them walk away from this. Not before, and especially not now that he’d shared everything with them. They’d been a loose end before; now they were an extreme liability. He was going to shoot them, and whoever else might be working with him—some vast network or so it seemed—would help him dispose of their bodies somewhere in this immense wilderness. They’d never be found, or even if they were, there’d be no evidence about who killed them or why. And if they were never found? Would others believe they’d run away together? Even if they didn’t, how could it be proven? They’d say Jak was a wild card, unpredictable, uncivilized, and that Harper was unfocused and emotionally unstable—scarred from the trauma of losing her parents and then growing up without a true home. Who could truly say what they’d done or why? They’d look for a while, and then…that would be that.

The man in front of them knew it too.

But he’d never expect them to jump.

Yes, their only way out was down. Just like the first time. They’d survived once, against all odds, but how likely was it that they could survive something with such meager odds again? Unlikely. Hopeless perhaps. The fall was one thing, the rapids just beyond were another. Treacherous. Deadly. Full of boulders and undercurrents that had taken several lives that she knew of. So why did she feel so hopeful?

Because they’d survive or they wouldn’t—together.

Harper curled her fists. Jak’s eyes moved downward. He’d seen. He knew.

Let’s do this. Together. Again.

She was ready, she realized, incredulous at the calm, the peace, she felt. There, standing at the top of a precipice with Jak, about to risk it all, she saw so clearly how incredibly lucky she’d been, when she’d never deemed herself lucky before. So many things had aligned perfectly so she made it out of the wilderness that night. Was it luck, though, or more? Fate? A divine hand? Her parents’ loving guidance? She didn’t know. She did know she was intensely thankful because, like Jak, she had survived, so she would be there when he arrived in her life for the second time.

Jak. Her Jak. He’d sacrificed his own life to give her hers, and she would not dishonor that by regretting a single moment of it. He had saved her, and she was grateful for every second she’d had because of it. Even the moments when she’d struggled and hurt and felt like a victim. She hadn’t been a victim. She was the victor Dr. Swift had mentioned. Not because she’d been put through a program. She’d picked herself up, over and over, again and again. It had made her stronger, better, made her appreciate the good moments and respect her own ability to survive.

It was as if, for a fleeting moment, a cloud had moved away from the sun. And in that brief speck of time, she saw the bright, miraculous, sometimes searing, often blinding light of what her life had been. And she was grateful for it all. All of it. Every moment. Because it was hers. And she saw that she could not claim the joy without also claiming the pain. So she did. She took it inside and loved it all equally. That moment. Right there. She loved her life. And because of such great, unequaled love—the sudden and deep understanding of the many gifts she’d received—she was willing to take any risk to keep it. For herself. For him. With him.

Dr. Swift paced one more time. His words, she couldn’t put them together. He was preparing himself though, ready to have them shot where they stood. Harper took a step back, and so did Jak. Daire saw what they were doing and raised the gun, and in that instant, they both turned, Jak’s hand grabbing hers, gripping. She heard a blast, and something flew by her cheek. Jak pulled her so they wove, crouching as they moved. She heard Dr. Swift’s yell coming closer, the same as that night, only this time it was accompanied by the whizz of bullets as they flew by her head.

The earth fell out from under them, and then there was only falling, only the thunder of the falls all around. The needle-sharp pain of the icy water as it hit her skin. Harper’s scream was snatched up in the wild roar. Jak’s hand gripped tighter. He wouldn’t let her go. She knew he wouldn’t. He’d already proven it once before.

Hold on, she heard through the rush of water.

Hold on.

That whisper inside, deep down, and yet filling her head, her heart, her soul. She was only sensation now, only instinct and the will to live, and she heard it so clearly. She knew the voice. That whisper. It had belonged to her mother.

She couldn’t hold her breath any longer. Her lungs were burning, her body being battered, flailing as the thunderous fall went on and on and on.

Then the jarring impact of hitting the surface, her lungs screaming, hand gripping, gripping. He was gripping back. They were together, plunging down, down, and then back up, up, his powerful legs kicking mightily, pulling them both toward the light above, as her lungs caught fire and she tried to hold on, hold on, head bursting, lights blinking until—

She opened her mouth and took a gasping breath just as they broke the surface, air rushing in and filling her screaming lungs.

Then back under, the current pulling them as they tumbled, their arms stretching.

Hold on. Hold on.

The deadly rapids were ahead. Harper tried desperately to grab at something. Anything that would hold them steady, keep them from entering that rocky portion of water that would drag them under, keep them there.

“Grab this,” a deep voice yelled. Harper gasped, not able to see who had said it with the spray of water, but spotting the large, heavy branch just in front of them.

She tried to swim toward it, but the current pulled her away. Jak’s grip increased, and with a yell, he pulled them both closer, swimming against the current, both of them working together to make it close enough to the branch to grab hold.

Jak let out a mighty yell, moving them closer, and Harper reached out and grabbed the end of it, barely. She slipped, grabbed again, held on until Jak could come from behind her and grab hold of it too, both of them gasping for breath, anchored to that small piece of wood in a roaring cauldron of bubbling, circling water.

“Keep holding on. Don’t let go.” Agent Gallagher? It was Agent Gallagher, somehow, impossibly, there. He pulled the branch, towing them in against the tide, grunting with the effort, slipping—oh, God—but regaining balance, pulling, pulling. They met the shore, and he reached out his hand pulling her up the bank, Jak behind her. They both collapsed on the muddy riverbank, gasping for air, soaking wet, shaking.

Their hands still clasped.

Together.

Chapter Fifty

Jak pulled Harper closer, though there really wasn’t any way to get much closer than they currently were. Unless he took her to bed, which he wanted to—desperately. He wanted to roll around with her, sniffing her everywhere, taking, grunting, and howling with the thankfulness of life—

No. Those are wolf thoughts, he reminded himself. But she liked the wolf in him, he knew that too. He nuzzled her neck, pulling the hospital blanket more tightly around her to make sure she was warm. Now, if only they would let them out of this hospital with all the intense, unknown smells that were tickling his nose and fogging his brain.

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