Page 51 of Fierce Lies
Ivy was able to find the keys, since she was now in the van, trying the ignition.
Jackson and I stumbled to the passenger side of the van, where he yanked the door open.
The engine sputtered, coughed, then died. Nothing. "Shit," Ivy muttered, trying again. "Shit, shit, shit."
"Sit, Elena." Jackson guided me into the passenger seat, wincing as he did so.
He was still bleeding. Still trying to protect us. The leather seat was cold against my back, and I shivered, shock setting in now that the adrenaline had faded.
Jackson moved around to the front of the van and checked under the hood.
"Elena, you're okay. You did the right thing. He would've killed us," Ivy said. She took my hand, squeezing it and forcing me to finally meet her gaze. "We're okay, Lena. He was a bad man. You saved us. You saved me."
"You pepper sprayed him first." I was surprised the words came out, but she'd always been the one to pull me out of dark places.
A small smile touched her lips. "Yeah, well, I hid that thing in my bra when we were behind the couch. Wasn't sure if I'd need it. I guess he forgot I had it after he shot that guy."
I nodded, glancing out the windshield, glad that the raised hood was blocking my view of Alfeo.
"Radiator's shot. Alfeo hit it. Tire's going flat too." Jackson appeared by my still open door. His face was ashen in the dim light from the van's interior, sweat beading on his forehead despite the chill in the air.
"Can you fix it?" I asked quietly, shivering as another gust of wind blew through.
He shook his head. "Not without supplies."
Ivy let out a strangled laugh as she slapped the steering wheel. "Great. We're stranded in murder cabin territory with a corpse and no cell service. This is literally how every horror movie starts."
"Looks like a storm is brewing, we'd probably be better off checking out the house," Jackson stated as another gust tore through the van.
How he wasn't freezing in just his briefs was beyond me. Then again, I had no idea how he was still even standing with his wounded leg.
"Okay." I had no fight left in me, and Ivy sighed as we both slid out of the van and moved around to the front. I couldn't help it as I glanced at Alfeo's body, blood having stained the earth around his head.
"Try not to look at him," Jackson said as he limped over to me, the gun still in his hand by his side.
"Hard not to," I muttered, pulling my dressing gown around me tighter. My feet were cold now, and I wanted desperately to get some clothes for Jackson.
Ivy glanced around, hugging herself against the cold. "How far do you think we are from a main road?"
"Didn't hear a single car for the last half hour. We're pretty far out from civilization." Jackson's breath fogged in the cold air, coming in short, controlled bursts that told me he was fighting pain.
I looked at the bloodied dish cloth on his leg and the streaks of dried blood.
"You need to get that sorted, Jackson." My voice sounded distant, like it belonged to someone else.
He shrugged, winced. "Flesh wound. I'll be fine. But we should probably do something about it if I'm to help you two get away from here tomorrow."
But I saw the tightness in his jaw. The way he was holding himself. The slight tremor in his hands that hadn't been there before.
He was putting on face, pretending he wasn't struggling to just stay standing.
"Here, we'll help you walk." I moved to his side, putting one arm around him. God, he was so cold.
Ivy moved to his other side, and we began the short walk to the house. Ivy's boots crunched on the gravel, each step unnaturally loud in the darkness.
It was so quiet out here, only the sound of the growing wind in the trees and a distance rumble of thunder.
The moonlight was fading as clouds blotted it from view, and I shuddered once more from the chill of the air.
