Page 24 of Revenant

I glance down at my food, pushing it around on my plate, my brain struggling to process the overload of information. I believed I was alone with my abilities. A freak. To find out otherwise boggles my mind. Discovering other people exist, who are even more different than me, breaks my brain.

And Jaceson and Gunner are smack dab in the middle of it.

Because of me.

“You shouldn’t have come,” I chide Jaceson, unable to look at him as I watch the other people finish their meals and depart.

Now that I know no one here is who they seem, I can spot the differences. Fangs instead of teeth. Claws instead of fingernails. Ears that are a little bit too pointy. Hair a little too shiny, eyes the color of precious stones. Not to mention guards armed with weapons that can kill.

Jaceson snorts, shaking his head like it’s the most ridiculous statement he’s ever heard. “You would’ve come for me.”

That gives me pause, and I peer at him in confusion. “You seem pretty confident of that.”

“Of course,” he says, pushing his tray away to lean on the table, never once taking his gaze from mine. “We’re family.”

I rub my forehead, then run my hand down my face, flashing him a frustrated look. “I don’t understand what that means.”

He wiggles his ass, shuffling closer until he’s right in my face, every inch of him plastered against my side. “Liar. You know exactly what it means—you are one of us.”

My heart clenches at his declaration.

I had thought the same thing…until they turned on me.

Now I’m not sure what to believe.

That they came for me, put their lives at risk, should absolve them of their wrongdoing…yet a tiny sliver of doubt remains. I’m not sure how I can ever trust them completely. I want to believe they won’t turn on me again, but an insidious little voice at the back of my mind won’t be silenced.

“Come…we should go.” Jaceson rises to his feet, then holds his hand out for me to take. “We have things to discuss.”

I study his hand for a moment, then hesitantly place my own in it, my resolve firming. He’s in this mess because of me. That means it’s my job to protect him. Everything else is a distraction that I will worry about once we manage to escape.

As we walk out with the other inmates, I’m conscious of Jaceson lingering close to my side…and the way the guards follow our every move.

No, not us…just Jaceson.

As we exit the room, their gazes crawl over my skin like a bunch of cockroaches looking for their next meal. As we turn the corner, I can’t repress a shudder and peer at Jaceson from the corner of my eyes. “What the hell did you do to draw the guards’ attention?”

He sighs heavily, shrugging his shoulders with a wry half smile. “What can I say? I make friends wherever I go.”

I snort at the absurdity, but that grin fades as the cozy image of Crystal and Jaceson flashes in my head. I’m so distracted that I’m taken by surprise when he snags my elbow and swings me around until my back is pressed against the wall.

A few of the other inmates glance at us with disinterest, not even slowing their pace as they pass in the hallway. Jaceson presses his hand against the wall near my head and leans toward me, his expression intense, his blue eyes never straying from mine.

My hand automatically comes to rest on his chest, and I’m unsure if I’m trying to keep some distance between us or if I can’t resist touching him.

Maybe a little bit of both.

“I know I hurt you,” he begins, and I glance away, not wanting to hash out things that happened months ago. He cups my face, his fingers warm against my skin, and I hate that I’m softening toward him from a simple touch.

He turns my face in his direction, a furrow appearing between his brows, and I’m annoyed when my insides turn all gooey under his attention. That’s when I notice his naked thumb, minus my ring. The hard shell around my heart thickens a little more.

I will not be fooled again.

“Where is your ring?” I curse the quiver in my voice, wishing I wasn’t so damn susceptible to their charms.

He automatically touches his naked thumb, a familiar scowl twisting his expression. “They confiscated it on intake.”

A growl tinges his voice, and he scrubs the back of his neck in irritation. That’s when I spot a nasty bruise on the side of his neck, one I recognize as an injection mark. Murderous rage sears through me that they would dare touch him. I reach into my pocket, my fingertips brushing the ring, and I slowly pull it from my jeans.

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