Page 145 of Entangled

“Dominic, I’m sure it can be resolved.”

He scrubs a hand down his face and shakes his head. “Look, if you’re heading back to your room, can you just tell Heather to meet me in the library? We need to go over the plan for tomorrow.”

“Now? It’s past three in the morning.”

After weeks of traveling, I should have long since been in bed myself.

But Lucien is difficult to refuse.

“There’s never enough time.” Dominic sighs. “Jayk and I only finished setting up the civilians with tents and bedding an hour ago. I’ve been making a start on inventory lists too.”

Ah. I’d shirked that duty. As had Lucien. And Beaumont too, if the sounds from behind Eden’s door could be believed.

I shouldn’t have done that. Not while Dominic is already teetering under the weight on his shoulders.

“I see.” I grimace. “Well, if you insist on meeting with the medusa, do remember not to look her in the eye.”

He catches my arm, and I can see the moment he loses his patience. “Stop this. We have enough shit to deal with without you two at each other’s throats. Our generator can’t handle this many people. We have no defenses readied. We have no vegetable garden. All our dried meat is gone. We have a minimal stock of long-life supplies, and we only have a tenth of the animals needed to feed more than ninety. Not to mention the fact that Bentley’s confirmed that Sam is recruiting more men. The Sinners are chomping for revenge and desperate to lock these women down.”

Dread creeps over me, and I look at him seriously. “How long until the food runs out?”

The grim set to his jaw is not reassuring.

“We start rations tomorrow. Replanting. Hunting.” Dominic shakes his head. “With all that? Weeks at most. We can’t be put under siege or we’re fucked. So yeah, Jasper. I need Heather—toplan.”

His words settle uneasily over me.

Sobered, I nod once. “I’ll fetch her.”

He nods and leaves, and it takes me a long moment before I can bring myself to turn away from the comforting, torturous sound of Lucien’s shower and head back to my room.

Weeks.

I knew our situation was bad, but not how dire. How long before these people balk against food rations? How long until a new militia descends? Fear grips my stomach. Lucien has only just recovered from his wounds. Eden isjust nowsafe.

We can’t afford another attack.Ican’t afford it.

I knock before entering my room, though the need to do so feels deeply irritating.

“Midlife crisis trauma center, only middle-aged washouts may enter,” Heather snipes behind the door.

How am I meant to maintain my own composure when she insists on antagonizing me?

Breathing through my nose, I enter.

The pestilent poltergeist is sitting in my armchair, flicking through one of my books.

“Oh look, the lackluster lackey himself. Looks like you’re A-OK to come in.”

“Get your filthy feet off my coffee table,” I snap, my fingers twitching against the urge to remove them myself.

Heather’s dark red brow lifts. “These feet?”

She flattens her toes on the table and rubs her feet over the dark wood.

Infuriating, repulsive, adversarialchild. Biting down hard against an outpouring of vitriol, I move to my cupboards and begin pointedly pulling out cleaning supplies.

“You know, these comments are pretty suggestive. Your boyfriend know how much you book-flirt with Eden?”

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