Page 5 of Entangled

“How were we supposed to know they had bombs?” the narrow-featured man replies, bored, as if they’ve gone over this before.

Sam takes a breath beside me, glancing between the groups. He works up a rough smile. “We’ve had a setback, it’s true. But the Sinners were born from the mistakes of our past—we can learn from this. We’re forged by our trials.”

The blond man unholsters his weapon. “It was meant to be bloodless, you stupid son of a bitch.”

The cliff group leaps up, grabbing their guns from where they lay discarded around them. Then the men by the trees surge to their feet, crowding around the blond man. I feel a cold sweat gather along my hairline, under my arms. This is bad. I’m about to be in the middle of a gunfight, and I have no way to magically un-injure my body.

I wish Beau were here. He might not be magic, but he’s the closest thing I’ve found.

Sam shuffles back as the men start shoving at one another, dragging me along with him, but the blond man breaks free and strides toward us, gun pointed.

Yanking me in front of him, Sam yells, “Backdown, Logan. You need me! You all need me!”

My heart hammers against my ribcage like it wants to scurry to safety. I twist against Sam’s grip, needing to escape, even though I know it’s pointless. It’s too late now. I’m caught.

I’m dead.

Logan barks a laugh. “You think I won’t shoot through your new piece of ass? I should do it on principle after you got Ryder and Benji killed. Jonas, Carolos, Luke, Jamie, Lee, Slater. How many more names do you want?”

Cold metal bites at my forehead, and I freeze. My lids flutter closed.

In the new darkness, I see Beau’s lingering smile after he kissed me. Dom’s slow, shocked pride when I delivered the weapons. Jasper’s dark beauty as I curled up at his feet. Jaykob’s smirk as he fucked me. Lucky’s laughter as we fled Dom’s room with a bazooka.

I wonder if I’ll get to see them again when I go—if there is an afterlife, after all. I wonder if they’ll all be there, or if it will be just Lucky and Jaykob for a while. I hope so. I hope the others are alive, at least, and that they’ll find some happiness together.

I wonder if this will hurt.

Taking a deep breath, I wait for the burst that will end my life.

“Enough, Logan.” The thin, reedy voice comes from the trees. For the silence that falls around the camp, it might as well have been a crash of thunder.

I crack my lids, a tangle of tension wrapping around me. Logan is breathing hard, the muscles in his unshaven jaw tense. “Alastair?—”

“Enough,” the voice repeats, even weaker than before. “He’s right. We need him.”

Logan’s fist is white around his gun, and the metal presses hard into my skin. Then he shoves it down and steps back, glowering at the man behind me.

I still feel the imprint between my eyes.

The groups have parted now, the brewing storm between them paused but still grumbling with threat. I follow their gazes to a man propped in a sitting position against a thick tree not too far from us. Mateo hovers over him with a grim knit to his brows.

The man is shirtless, and soggy, bloodied bandages crisscross the tattooed landscape of predatory animals and poisonous plants on his torso. He has deep brown hair and incongruously light eyes, and his right brow is struck through with a deep, old scar. He’s so sickly pale, so wrapped in those ominous bandages.

Is he going to die in front of me?

Mateo bends down beside him and holds a cup to his lips, gentle and patient. Alastair takes a slow sip, and the hunters hold a bated breath, waiting for him to speak.

“We’re all friends here,” Alastair continues, hardly above a whisper. He doesn’t move his head, but his intense eyes press upon the men and, one by one, they look away. Alastair’s gaze settles on Sam. “Right, Sam?”

“Right,” Sam agrees quickly. “Friends.”

I stare at Sam, then examine Alastair again, a new nervousness growing. Sam was one type of threat.

Who is Alastair to command that much respect?

Logan’s mouth twists to the side, and I don’t like the way his finger absently caresses the hilt of his gun. My forehead throbs in response. Sam is steering me over to the camp by the cliff when I see Mateo stand, frowning.

“Why don’t you share,presidente? You have so many women already,” he calls.

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