Page 97 of Wreckage

I followed, silent, my body aching with exhaustion and hunger.

The traps were still empty.

Fuck.

Nothing.

Just death pressing in from all sides.

Troy’s breath hitched, his chest heaving.

He fell to his knees and screamed, his voice desperate and angry. Itcarried through the thick trees; a fierce cry of rage and pain made my stomach churn.

It echoed back at us, empty and hollow, like the trees were mocking us.

Troy’s breathing was ragged, his fists still clenched.

I let out a bitter, hollow laugh, my vision blurring from exhaustion and hunger.

“Maybe we should just end it.”

Troy whipped around, his eyes wild.

“What?”

I ran a gloved hand down my face, my voice flat and emotionless.

“I mean it, Troy. What’s the point? What’s the difference? We’re just prolonging the suffering. We’re going to starve to death out here. It’s going to fucking hurt. Why go through it when we can end it now?”

Troy didn’t hesitate.

He shoved me hard. I stumbled back, the cold biting at me, but I barely felt it.

“Don’t you say that shit, Adrian. I don’t fucking need you giving up on me,” Troy roared.

“I’m not, man,” I said gently. “I just don’t want to suffer in my final days. I don’t want Elena to suffer. Fuck, man. She might already be gone.” My voice cracked on the words, and a tear tumbled down my cheek.

His eyes blazed with fury, his chest rising and falling with sharp, steady breaths.

“I’m not giving up.”

I stared at him, my breath shaking, my body numb with the hopelessness that stretched endlessly before us.

Slowly, Troy turned away from me.

I knew where he was going before he even spoke.

And I followed.

Neither of us said a word.

Westoppedat the spot where we had buried Dean.

Troy stood there for a long moment, staring down at the untouched snow, his expression tight, unreadable.

I knew what he was thinking, though. It was the same thing I was thinking.

I exhaled, my body rigid as I spoke.

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