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“Why? Because I’m still your hostage?”
“No, because we stick together so that no one ends up hurt. Or dead.”
“Why does my life matter to you? I’m your captive. I never wanted to be part of your little group.”
Griffin’s empty gray eyes somehow look even more empty. “I won’t be responsible for your death.”
“Great. I can be responsible for my own death then.”
“We’re not going in without a plan, Emily. Now sit back down while I figure something out.” Griffin doesn’t wait for a response before storming to his tent, and I, being the stubborn asshole that I love to be, can’t drop this. Maybe this is why I have so few friends.
“My friend’s life doesn’t work on your timeline.”
“And our lives don’t work on yours,” Griffin says without turning around. “We can’t just waltz into a dreg’s hideout and ask for their stuff over a cup of tea. They’ll kill us on the spot and they’ll take you, like they already tried to do. We’ll get there, but I won’t risk our lives, and that includes yours.”
“My life isn’t yours to risk. I will not sit around while my friend gets even sicker, when I’m able to do something about it. You might not care about another human life, but I do.”
He whirls around, his empty gray eyes now full of anger. I must’ve hit a tough spot. Good, then I’ll keep punching him there. “If that’s what you really think, then that’s fine. You can go out there on your own. Fight an entire hideout full of dregs on your own. You can wind up tortured and murdered or worse, if that’s what you really want. Might as well just feed yourself to rotters instead. It’ll be a more pleasant way to go.”
“Fighting a thousand rotters is easier than trying to reason anything with you. Fighting a thousand dregs is easier than getting through your thick skull and dull personality.”
His hand raises into the air and I ready my stance and lift my chin, preparing for a fight. He has brute strength, but I’m a biter if it comes down to it. But instead of swinging like I expect, his fingers curl into a fist and he snarls. He actually snarls. I didn’t know men could snarl in real life. Then he spins around and punches the tree that was rudely rooted in the ground too close to him.
I don’t speak. Not because I’m speechless; I can brighten up this argument with a colorful vocabulary. But because I’m too angry. Zoey is counting on me and I’m letting her down because of this overgrown baby with control issues.
Griffin turns around and disappears into the tent without another word, pulling the tent flap closed with so much force that it rips about an inch. Max does a long, slow whistle before walking away to what I’m assuming is cleaning up what’s left of the doctor.
William throws another log on the fire and then rummages through the measly supply of food that we have left. “Don’t take it too personally, Em. He gets like that sometimes.”
“That’s not normal. Are we even safe here with him?”
William’s head pops up from the bag, his blue eyes pale and warm. “I know things aren’t the easiest for you right now, and this isn’t the most ideal situation. But there aren’t many people out there who care about your safety and your mission as much as him.”
I scoff. “He’s a menace.”
“William!” Griffin calls from inside the tent.
I jump at the outburst, wondering if he heard me talking. My lips curl up into a smile. Good, I hope so.
“Be right back.” William gives me one last longing look before disappearing into the tent that Griffin tore through. I’m about to see if I can sweet talk Max into giving me some sort of information, but then he walks over looking more bloodied up than ever. He gives me a wink before disappearing into the tent next.
Even when they lower their voices, but I can still make out the growl that belongs to Griffin. I tiptoe to the tent as quiet as I can be and listen in. I can’t make out everything they’re saying, but I can make out one thing. “West.”
I hold in a gasp. The location is somewhere to the west.
As if on instinct, my fingers curl around the compass hanging from my neck and beneath my shirt, and I walk backward until I’m standing next to Buddy. If I’m going to do this, it needs to be now. Griffin doesn’t have Zoey’s best interest in mind, despite what William said. After that outburst, I don’t trust Griffin enough to wait around for him to get his head out of his ass and formulate a plan. Especially if he’s not going to let me in on the plan.
With none of them paying any attention to me, I motion for Buddy to follow. We start walking with my compass as our guide.
The sun is high in the sky. It’s bright, and it’s hot. Sweat rolls down my back and I regret not taking some water. We haven’t gotten very far, still pretty much in the broad area where we set up the campground, but this is going to be miserable. It wasn’t nearly this hot sitting beside the fire with water and tree coverage.
Movement in the trees has me stopping in my tracks, and Buddy presses against my leg with a low growl. I grab my knife and hold it ready, waiting for a rotter to appear. When the figure emerges from the treeline, I groan with disappointment. I’d much rather it be a rotter.
“What do you want?” I whisper-shout.
“You won’t make it far on foot, especially since you don’t even know where you’re going. What plan do you have?”
“I know it’s to the west. You didn’t keep your voices down like you thought. I’ll find it faster on my own than I will by waiting for you guys to tell me where it’s at.” I wait for him to argue, to talk me out of it, but his response surprises me more than his appearance.
