Page 21 of Entangled

Sam is offering them the world on a platter—and as long as they believe he can give it to them, Alastair can’t possibly win.

Painful, heart-aching memories ofmymen tunnel through my brain. Their kindness and passion. Their respect for my boundaries. Their need to make sure I felt safe.

There were so many good men.

It’s only that these men killed them.

Sam spreads his arms, and the shadows make them dragon wings against the rock.

“This is a new age, brothers. We only need to claim it.”

Chapter7

Eden

Survival tip #141

They’re not friends. They’re not enemies.

They’re only pieces on your board.

Be ready to sacrifice them at any moment.

They will do the same to you.

My freedom is limited, supervised, and my injuries might as well be clipped wings for all I can fly away, but it’s a relief each time my ropes are unraveled. My wrists need the time to breathe—and I need the time away from Madison.

Since I offered to cook and tend the injured two days ago, her incessant attempts at conversation have stopped entirely. I can see the contempt that shadows her bruised face every time I pick up my new bag of herbs, or I’m allowed to bandage up my injured wrists. I might not be sleeping with her enemies, but to Madison, attempting to make them well again might just be worse. Her displeasure coats the air around us like a bad smell.

But I find I miss her quips, and even her insults.

She’s only broken her silence once, but we don’t talk about the night Jorge died. She was so much braver than me then, and I’m sure she looks down on me for that too.

I’ve been in camp for less than a week, and she’s survived with the Sinners for months. Maybe she’s just used to it, but Sam’s words, his plans, they frighten me to my core. That night, he spoke my fears out like a promise. The empire built on fear and intimidation, where women are used as chattel and prizes for cheap and unworthy men. How many women does he have already, even more frightened and hurt than I am now? How many more will he take in his tidal carnage?

How isanyonemeant to stop him?

My hands are busy through the days, and I work to keep my mind active with schemes. I might not be able to fight them directly, but there’s no way I can donothing.

With every meal I make, and every Sinner I tend, and every moment I duck my head and don’t run for freedom, they watch me less carefully.

Still, I can’t act recklessly. I will only have one shot to use my water hemlock, and my vengeance needs to be effective. For myself, and for any meager hope I can offer the women back at the Den. I certainlydon’tplan on getting myself killed in my escape.

I need to find the right moment, one where I can do the most damage and not be caught. They’re still watching me so closely, and their different duties mean the whole group is rarely in one place for the same meal.

But it has to be soon.

Sam’s speech bought him time, but tensions were at breaking point yesterday... and today the camp seethes with it. With Jorge dead, all eyes are now on Alastair. Sam is pushing hard for the Sinners to leave tomorrow, and Alastair’s men are growing more and more anxious.

Still, despite the pressure, my busyness is a relief, and during the days I’ve found some distraction from my grief, which shadows and sucks at me every moment.

But at night, when the camp falls silent and the darkness closes in around us, it’s all I can think of. Corpses and emptiness and a yawning stretch of future devoid of... anything.

Another lifetime alone in the woods.

Years of winters that cut to the bone.

Decades of pitiless hunger.

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