Page 58 of Blue Arrow Island
“She’s awake.” Marcus straightens his spine.
His shoulders and thighs are so wide that he doesn’t look comfortable in the metal chair.
“Hey, Briar.” Ellison walks over to my bedside, smiling softly. “How are you feeling?”
I swallow against the dryness in my throat, trying to sit up. “Where are we?”
It comes out as a croak.
“At our camp.”
I furrow my brow, confused. “It’s not hot.”
Her smile widens. “Not here, but most of the camp is. Do you want some water?”
I nod. “Thanks.”
She goes over to the counter to pour water from a pitcher. Marcus stands and comes over to the bed, his scowl milder than before but still in place.
“Where did you get this?” He holds up the knife I found in the cave.
My lips part with surprise. I’m fully awake now. “That’s mine. Give it back.”
“No, it’s not.” A muscle in his clean-shaven jaw tics. “Tell me where you got it.”
Ellison comes over with a cup of water. The cup is carved from wood, the swirling grains and smooth surface making it look like a work of art.
“Not now, Marcus,” she says, passing me the cup. “She needs to rest.”
“Give me my knife.” I mean for my voice to be strong and sure, but it comes out wobbly and emotional.
When I picked up that knife, I felt safer for the first time since I set foot in this tropical hell. It’s a real weapon. The only thing I have to protect myself.
“Did you see someone?” Marcus demands, his voice rising with anger. “Did someone give this to you?”
I slide myself into a sitting position, the pain in my leg much better than it was before. “I don’t owe you anything. You took something from me, and I want it back.”
He lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “You left it on the ground. Amira picked it up and brought it back. And it’s very fucking important that you tell me where you got this.”
“Why?”
His expression clouds with wariness. I use the silence to drink my water, trying to look unbothered.
But the truth is I’m in a vulnerable position. I’m defenseless, and once again, at the mercy of a man. And this man doesn’t want me here.
“Can I see Amira?” I ask Ellison.
She says, “Sure,” at the same time Marcus says, “No.”
Ellison arches her brows. “Why not?”
His gaze remains focused on me as he answers. “Not until after she’s been questioned.”
My pulse thrums with worry, the pounding reaching my ears. “Am I a prisoner?”
“No,” Ellison says.
“You’re not a prisoner, but the safety of our people comes first and I don’t know a damn thing about you,” Marcus says. “You’ll be under guard until you’ve been questioned.”
