Page 121 of Unveil
The church by the graveyard where Orion’s family is buried… The shadows I saw in the forest that day weren’t ghosts. They were Wildes, and they followed us from here back to the cabin.
Where they killed Benny.
Anger blasts through me, incinerating any semblance of my self-control over “my best play.”
Concern deepens Bossie’s sun-weathered wrinkles, her grandmotherly smile returning. “How you doin’, baby? They treat you nice on the way here?”
I square my shoulders, lifting my chin.
“Oh, they treated me fine for beingkidnapped.” My voice cracks with rage. “Where. Is. Orion?”
Bossie eyes me for a beat before a raspy chuckle huffs out of her, churning my stomach. “Shoo-wee, Barty. You gon’ have atimewith this one.”
“It’ll be my pleasure to break her, ma’am.” He snickers behind my back, his tone mocking. “Although judging by that bite mark, looks like she’s already been rode hard and put up wet. It might take a while to get the Fury stench out.”
My blood runs cold, but I refuse to let them see me shudder, so I seethe. “Fuck you, Bart?—”
“Nah-ah-ah, I won’t allow that language from you neither, missy.” Bossie tsks, lifting her cane, silencing me. “And no whining now. You could’ve had the nice one. Ozias would’ve been good to you. But he ain’t here, and I wouldn’t ask him to be.” She glares daggers over my shoulder. “Not after the Furys stole his smile.”
I follow her gaze?—
My world shatters like the stained glass around us.
“Orion?” I whimper.
He’s slumped in a chair, his ankles roped to the legs and wrists bound together in front of him.
My feet move on their own, heart pounding painfully behind my sternum.
He’s not moving. He’s not moving. He’s not?—
“Orion?”
Tears blur my vision.
Is he…
“No!” I scream, lunging for him, but I’m yanked back. “Let me go! Let me?—”
He stirs, and my shouts die on my lips.
“Orion?”
His head lifts slowly like it’s too heavy to hold up. He blinks, eyes glassy and lost as he searches the room.
“You’re…alive,” I cry, my knees buckling with relief. “You’re alive. Thank God.”
But he’s barely able to sit up straight, breaths shallow, blood glistening a sickeningly pretty crimson on his black shirt. A man stands on either side of him, one aiming Orion’s crossbow at his back, the other scowling with his arms crossed, pistol loose in his grip like he knows Orion is in no shape to fight back.
Not yet, you bastard.
I saw Travis Wilde shove the loose dart into his shoulder, and I also saw it jam before Travis could fully depress the plunger. If I can just stall…
Orion’s gaze locks on me, and he exhales. “Luna?”
My heart strains to go to him, but I force myself to stand still so Bart’s grip doesn’t tighten further.
“I’m here. It’s okay. You’re alive. We both are.”
