Page 80 of Blue Arrow Island
Fight like hell, Briar.
I can hear my father’s voice in my head, reminding me why he taught me everything he did. It wasn’t because he relished seeing his daughters punch each other in training, but because we were so dear to him that he wanted us to be able to get ourselves out of the worst situations.
Kicking and kneeing Vance’s groin, I manage to get him to take his hand off my throat. I suck in a deep breath and try to get off the cot, but he punches me in the face.
I’m dazed, but I move anyway, because I can’t afford any hesitation. He’s still standing over me, though, the metal bar at the side of my cot digging into the center of my back.
He tears my shirt open. I scream with everything in me, kicking and clawing at him. I have to get on my feet.
He hisses in pain after getting close enough for me to rake my nails down his cheek. Grabbing my shoulders, he slams my head to the cot. If it was a hard surface, that would have rung my bell, but instead, it gives me a chance to wrap my hands around his throat.
I squeeze, refusing to let go. My life depends on not letting go. Vance could kill me right here and have my body buried in the woods by morning without anyone ever knowing what happened.
When he tries to get his hands around my neck, I turn my face to the side and bite his hand as hard as I can, holding on like an attack dog.
“Fuck!” He rasps out the word, then backs up a few steps.
I spring out of bed, taking a slow, calming breath and silently moving away. It’s pitch black in here, which works for and against me.
“You’re dead, bitch.”
I quietly creep over to the wall where I know the shelf’s hanging, finding it with my hands and tearing it down. When I hear him coming at me, I swing the shelf at his head, making contact.
He gets ahold of my torn shirt and pulls me toward him. I hit his head with the shelf again, then again. It’s a solid metal shelf—the weapon I didn’t realize I had until I was desperate for it.
Vance retreats. Knowing he’s going for his knife, I race to the door and try to open it, but it’s locked.
Shit. I bang the shelf against the door over and over, screaming as I do.
“Help me! Someone! I need help!”
I’m pulled back by my hair, so hard my feet slide out from under me. My hands instinctively move to free myself, the shelf clattering to the ground.
“No!” I fall to the floor, screaming and thrashing.
This isn’t happening. Never again. Part of me died every time I let Lochlan have me against my will, telling myself it was the only way to survive.
Now I know, though. If it’s give in or die fighting, I’d rather die.
25
Base extract is a novel alkaloid compound previously unknown to science. The petal tissue on the flowers from Island 7 contains the highest concentration of active compound. Root extraction yields compound with unknown effects.
– Excerpt from the journal of Dr. Randall McClain
I’m clawing at Vance’s face when light appears. The door to the room opens, a spotlight shining in on us.
“Move away from her.”
It’s Nova, her voice level and lethal as she points a handgun in our direction. Vance puts his hands in the air and moves off me, standing.
“She’s the one who attacked me when I tried to stop her from escaping.”
Tears of relief cloud my vision as I get to my knees, breathing hard.
“Briar, on the cot,” she says. “Vance, don’t move a muscle.”
I back my way to my cot. She switches on the room’s light, keeping the weapon trained on Vance, then presses a button on a radio that’s mounted to her shoulder.
