Page 9 of Entangled

I press a finger to my forehead as I fight for control. It feels frayed.

I feel frayed.

Jayk has been in an obscene mood since we discovered Eden missing. I can’t blame him—though I’m doubtful he would be so fraught were any of us missing in Eden’s stead. It’s curious how quickly she became part of our little family.

And how quickly we lost her.

As if sensing my eyes on him, Dom gives me an impatient look.

“He’s wrong, you know,” I say quietly. “None of this is your fault.”

The captain’s return smile is bitter. “If he was wrong, Eden would be safe at Bristlebrook.”

I stay quiet as Dominic scrubs a hand over his face, then squeezes the bridge of his nose. He’s tired. We all are.

In the hopes of making up for lost time, we haven’t stopped for more than one-hour power naps since we finally left Bristlebrook. For us not to have caught up to them by now—even with the head start they had on us—Eden and her captor can’t have been stopping for very long either.

Unfortunately, I’m learning that tracking isn’t an exact science—it’s hard to know how far behind we are. Each time we’ve found evidence that they’ve paused to rest, we’ve been too late. At least, from the size and number of the occasional footprints Dominic has scouted, we’re certain Eden is alive and with only one hunter.

For now, she is.

Which makes it all the more frustrating to lose her trail. If we catch up with them after they reach Cyanide, and presumably their base, we will have more hunters to deal with. And that’sifthat’s where they’re heading, andifwe can find our way there, andifwe can find them in an enormous city when we arrive. Without the trail to follow, we introduce an array of variables.

Still, I refrain from voicing my concerns. I’m the least skilled in these matters; Jaykob and Dominic are well aware of the implications.

Darkly, I wonder if a crystal ball might not be a decent idea for tracking her after all.

“Perhaps we should rest,” I venture reluctantly, noting the tired rings around their eyes, the dirt and sweat smudging their faces. Mine is no better, I’m sure.

Exhaustion is the enemy of progress. My lessons in that regard are fresh and painful; if I hadn’t driven myself into the ground by arrogantly taking on too much of the surveillance work in my pathetic attempts to avoid Lucien, we might have caught the looped videos sooner. We might not be in this mess at all.

Eden might have been safe.

“Fuck. That.” Jaykob shoulders past me, heading fast in the direction Dominic clocked as south.

Dominic and I exchange glances, then he shakes his head, a grim set to his shoulders. “Can you keep up?”

Humiliation bleeds through me, scalding hot.

“I’m managing,” I reply stiffly, though I’m not sure it’s the truth.

Dominic shakes his head. “You’re slowing us down, Jasper, and we need to go faster. Can you do it? If not, you need to turn back.”

His blunt words hit me with the force of a dozen blows that I am too out of practice to avoid.

Faster.

My legs are trembling, and my back is one giant ache. I’m pushing the limits of my stamina. How can I possibly go any faster? I’m already feeling my age, and the embarrassing gap between my fitness and that of the two younger men. Even Lucien’s Ranger kit doesn’t quite fit me, no matter how I adjust it.

In my efforts to avoid Lucien, I’ve skipped too many sparring sessions, missed too many workouts.

I’ve made myself incompetent.

Guilt and terrible fear drag at my bones. They eat me alive, and suck at my marrow. I can’t fail here. Not again.

On repeat, I replay the feel of Eden’s scorching, single tear splashing onto my thigh. The way she withdrew back into herself at my gentle rejection. How that glorious, delicious submission bled into scarlet cheeks and too-bright eyes that wouldn’t meet mine.

My refusal wasn’t meant to hurt her—but I know it did. Just as I hurt Lucien.

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