Page 46 of Dead By Dusk

His steps are hesitant, and he rubs his palms on his pant legs and furrows his brows. His discomfort in interrupting us is obvious, but I’m grateful for the reprieve. Not from Carmen, but my own mind with its festering thoughts begging to make an appearance, but I can’t let anyone else see the uncertainty and the pressure I’ve put on myself. I cannot falter or break when we’re finally close to getting out of this mess.

But as Ronan gets closer, he seems uncomfortable and standoffish. I don’t know how to explain it, but it doesn’t feel like the man that I spent half the night plotting with or the one who comforted me during the storm. This feels like a man hiding something and suddenly Carmen’s question is at the forefront of my mind.

Am I sure I can give him access to even a fraction of my trust right now? Or will it get me killed?

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but I took the initiative in telling the other two there’s been a new development. I didn’t want to tell them everything without you…” he trails off, and I turn to face him fully, taking in his whole appearance. Unlike Carmen and I, who had changed back into our original clothes now that they have been semi washed and died over the course of the night, he remains in the sweatpants and t-shirt that he had slept in. His wavy raven hair is disheveled and his five o’clock shadow has become more prominent—slightly longer and fuller than I recall ever seeing it before.

I assumed he would have done what Nathaniel did and used a dagger and conditioner to shave, but he hasn’t. Not yet, at least. The ruggedness would be appealing if his annoying smirk would find its way back to him or if there was any light in his eyes, but all playfulness has gone into hiding. It’s odd, thecontrast from him last night to now when all that separates the two things has been sleep.

But I don’t ask about it, instead I just dip my chin and allow Carmen to walk ahead of me before following in the rear. But as I move to pass Ronan, he reaches his calloused hands out to grip my elbow and I freeze, inhaling sharply at the sudden contact. It takes everything in me to not look at him, so instead, I look at the only point of contact we share. It can’t be more than a minute of us like that, me waiting with bated breaths for him to say something witty or sarcastic, but he doesn’t. A minute of me staring down at the way his thumb, the one vowing loyalty to only me, slowly rubs circles on my skin before he grips my arm tighter.

I cannot begin to guess what’s on his mind and what he’s fighting to say or not say in his head, but Nathaniel shatters the moment when he and Adonis enter the room.

“So, Ronan said you found something,” I sharply turn my gaze to him as Ronan’s hand drops, his jaw ticking in what appears to be annoyance. He doesn’t meet the challenge in my gaze as I wonder why he gave me full credit, but keeps his eyes locked on the part of my arm where his hand had just been. I wait a beat hoping that I can get him to justlookat me, but he turns away, sharply breathing in through his nose as if he’s forcing himself back to reality instead.

“Technically, we both found it after everyone went to bed,” I reply distractedly, as I track Ronan’s every clipped movement and the way his muscled arms contract with tension while his other hand tightens around the paper I hadn’t realized he was holding before he takes a deep breath and kneels on the ground. Gently, he unrolls the map we found and tries to smooth the wrinkles that formed within his harsh grip.

Carmen’s eyes go wide at the sight, all breath loosed from her parted lips. Adonis takes a knee next to Ronan, lightly pickingup one of the corners and bringing it closer to himself to get a better look. Nathaniel tilts his head, curiosity lingering behind his brown eyes.

“This can definitely be useful,” He hums as he leans between Ronan and Adonis, taking in every line the same way I had when I first saw it. “Do you know where these lead or how to even get in?” he questions, looking at Ronan and I expectantly. I fix my attention onto Ronan who quickly averts his gaze as soon as ours were meant to meet. His distance is concerning, though it only helps make this situation easier. Neither of us trust anyone, and the closer we get, the larger this predicament will become when all of this comes to an end.

His distance is for the best.

The whole group makes their way to the steps. No one fills the silence, the only sound is the loud creak of the stairs under our feet. I take the initiative to bend my body through the chopped wooden door and watch as each person enters after. Every face has varying looks of disgust as the body remains and the smell of rotting flesh has only grown stronger over the course of the night.

Still, no one speaks as they wait for whatever revelation lies ahead, and I tip my head back in quiet thought of what revealing this to everyone could mean for us. When I do though, the pain in my neck that has refused to fully vanish resurfaces. I can’t help but wince and raise my hand to put pressure on it before turning back to open the wall. As I take a step forward, stretching out my hand, I find Ronan’s own wrapping around my wrist, pulling my focus away from the task at hand.

“Are you hurt?” The seriousness that is held in the conviction of his question stuns me, and I can’t do anything but shake my head.

“No, no I think I just slept wrong. It’s been hurting since we got here, but I’ll be fine.” I attempt to roll my shoulders back andpull my wrist free but he keeps it in his grip, forcing me to stay still.

“Stop,” Ronan says. I attempt to question him, but when his other hand moves to my neck, pushing aside the loose curls that escaped my messy bun, to get a better look I pause.

“My neck feels the same. I assumed it was the same thing but…it shouldn’t still hurt like this,” he murmurs in a hushed tone barely even audible to me. Chills roll down my spine at the contact and the softness of his touch, and it’s a struggle to push away every conflicting thought that drifts through my mind.

“There’s something here,” he continues. I try to turn to him, but he grips the base of my neck and forces my head so far forward that my chin touches my chest. He grazes his fingers over the area that has been bothering me. The second he applies pressure in two different places, and slightly presses them toward each other, my head jerks back up and I force my elbow out in defense. The hit doesn’t land as he side steps and levels me with a stare—hands up in mock surrender.

“Now, now, Killer. There’s no need to get violent,” he tsks as I send a glare his way promising death if he ever does that again, and for the first time today, he smirks. The assholesmirksas if my reaction was predictable.

“There’s something under your skin and a cut that is mostly healed, but the skin is still irritated.” I cover the back of my neck with my hand protectively, though I already feel uncomfortable knowing someone had quite literally buried something unknown in my body without my knowledge.

“What do you mean there’s—” Carmen rushes out, but Ronan answers before she can finish.

“My guess is a tracker. It’s the only thing that makes sense. How else would they know exactly where we are at any given moment?” He questions, but nobody answers as we all stare at one another accusingly. “I suggest the three of you checkamongst yourselves to make sure there’s nothing there, but I have a feeling it’s just Silene and me” he finishes, chancing a quick look in my direction before turning his attention back to the ground.

“Why would it only be the two of you?” Nathaniel questions while harshly pushing his fingers into the base of his neck, then feeling his way all the way up to his hairline. Ronan doesn’t answer until everyone has checked and confirmed his suspicions. And then he still doesn’t answer. Not for a while at least. Even when the atmosphere turns awkward.

“Just a guess,” he murmurs before reaching his hand out for me to take and leading my body back in front of him and to the wood paneled wall. As I ease my fingers from his, I watch him keep it held out for a moment before slowly dropping and flexing it at his side. When I turn my attention forward, I inhale deeply before pushing in, hearing the visceral reactions of my peers behind me.

But while they see a way out, all I can think is that the perfect trap has been laid. The words of a dying man replay in my mind, and I can’t help wondering if he was ever lying at all.

No way out.

23

Lie To Me: Ronan/ Silene

Ronan:

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