Page 64 of Lucky 14

“Hey.” Oakley raises his hands, taking a step back. “It’s okay.”

I eye the knife at his waist. It’s still there, sheathed. Why the hell hasn’t he taken it out yet? Can I get it before he does?

“I’m here to help.”

For the first time, I actually hear him. Help? He’s here to help? For a brief second, I feel like Connor is talking to me again, teaching me different ways to protect myself. And for a second, I feel that warmth that comes from being safe.

And then reality sets in, and all warmth is gone in an instant. Because Connor is dead. As is Elijah. My body shakes, and I can’t remember how to numb it all.

Oakley is still talking. “You can stay in my room until I get us a way out. I just have to get you out of here.”

Oh fuck no.

Oakley is giving me a look, and it’s almost pleading, his blue eyes fixed on me and strained. He looks like he wants to…save me.

Dread freezes my gut to ice, and it feels like history is repeating itself. I can’t go through that again. I can’t have hope that a man will save me. That I can care about someone. Because the last time that happened, I lost everything, and I won’t go through that again. I can’t. I won’t survive it.

“No.” I take a step away from the tree. “No.”

Oakley turns his hands so they’re palm up. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I realize I’m shaking my head.

Oakley winces. “Please, Holland, I know you don’t believe me⁠—”

There’s a crash in the woods to our left, and I stiffen, crouching down. There’s another crack of a stick, then a curse. It’s another person.

Oakley steps back toward me just as a form comes into view. It’s a man. A large man with dark hair and greying, indistinct tattoos up his neck.

Scrambling back, I get ready to run before Oakley steps in front of me, blocking my view of the man, and reaching back to grab me. I try to rip away, but he adjusts his grip, sliding his hand down my arm to my wrist.

“Fucking bugs.” There’s another curse, then there’s silence.

“Hey,” Oakley sounds neutral. Not mean, but not nice.

I struggle to get out of Oakley’s grip, but it’s like iron. Staring around his tall form, I evaluate the new threat.

The man’s eyes snap to mine. They’re watered-down eyes in a leathered face, all sharp angles and dark eyes, looking simultaneously bored and angry. He has a worn number card on his belt. Twenty-seven.

There’s another moment of silence, then a deadpan. “Fourteen.”

The man doesn’t move. Neither does Oakley. I feel the tension in every muscle.

“You left early this morning,” Twenty-Seven says slowly.

Oakley’s fingers tighten imperceptibly.

“Breaking the rules.” The man smiles now, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Only seems fair you share your prize.”

That’s when my gaze pans down, and I notice something hanging from his belt.

A bear mask.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Day 4

I want to run. My heart races. I want to turn and get as far away from this silent man who smells like cigarette smoke as I can. As far away from everything as I can.