Page 13
The sight of the Glass Charms isn't sitting right with me; it doesn't sit right in my gut at all. The rules we all agreed to, in blood if not on paper, said none of the factions will cross into another’s turf. The only reason to darken someone else's territory is if the whole fucking island is burning down around us. We make our way outside, Doc leading, Snow wedged between me and Bash where she belongs—caged, contained, ours.
She doesn't say a word and she doesn't have to. I can feel her doing it anyway, that quiet, calculating tick behind her eyes, cataloging exits, counting steps, working the angles like she isn't chained to us in every way that matters. The second she sees daylight and an opening she'll take it. She'd leave us bleeding in the dirt without blinking if it meant getting free.
And fuck if that doesn't make me want to hunt her down all over again.
The thrill of chasing her ass through the trees, of tackling her into the dirt and pinning her wrists over her head while she snarls, spits and tries to fight me, does something ugly and hot to me. My cock goes iron-hard against my zipper just thinking about it, just thinking about her. Our rotten little apple, poison clean through to the core and I still can't stop putting her in my mouth.
I hate that about myself more than I hate her.
Doc stops dead. We stop with him. The Charms hold their line a few feet off, and the air between us goes thick enough to choke on. We've got no beef with them, they're one of the few crews on this rock that hasn't tried to gut us in our sleep. But them standing here, on our ground, uninvited, has every muscle in my body coiled tight and ready to break something.
They've got their girl standing shoulder to shoulder with them, out in the open like she's one of them and not a leash away from bolting. We don't do that. We keep Snow buried in the middle of us, boxed in, because the second the island gets a good look at what we've got, every sick fuck with a mask and a grudge will start circling.
Nobody wants to be the first to speak. I watch Doc go rigid beside me, jaw working, and I know his patience is a lit fuse right now. He hates this, hates her out here where anyone can see her, where anyone can want her.
The masks make it impossible to read them, until the one closest to me reaches up and strips his off. Jaq. Hard eyes, a face pulled tight like he's chewing glass, and the way his gaze tries to cut past Doc's shoulder hunting for her, lights something vicious in my chest. I step in front of Doc before I've even decided to, blocking his line of sight, putting my body between Jaq's eyes and her.
Don't you fucking look at her.
“What are you doing here?” It comes out as a snarl, and I don't bother softening it. All I can think about is getting her back behind our walls, out of sight of these bastards and whatever else is lurking in the treeline. The Glass Charms, the Sand Vipers, Thorn Vale, Bear Isle, and us… The five names that matter on this island, the only crews who carved out land and kept it.
We didn't get handed shit. We earned every inch of dirt we stand on, with our knuckles and our teeth. Took it off the scum who thought they could roll over us, and we bleed for it fresh every single day just to hold the line.
I know—I know—none of these other crews are stupid enough to try and take her from us. I know it. And my mind still won't sit still, won't let go of the thought of some other set of hands on her.
She's not ours by choice.
Given half a second she'd run and never look back, wouldn't spare a single one of us a second thought while we bleed out behind her.
Doesn't matter.
I'll be damned before I let her become meat for anyone else's table.
She's ours to hunt. Mine to hate. Mine to break.
“We need off this island,” Jaq says it flatly, final.
I actually rock back on my heels. He knows better than anyone there's no getting off this rock, the water doesn't let go of what it takes.
“You gonna play Noah and build us an ark?” Bash says it low, mean, the kind of mean that shows he's rattled too.
Another Charm rips his mask free. Duke, jaw set, a glare aimed at Bash sharp enough to draw blood.
“You wanna die on this fucking rock?” Duke snaps.
His tone's a blade but it's the look underneath it that gets me, no joke in it anywhere. And something in my chest goes tight and hungry, because if there's even a sliver of a chance these bastards found a way out of this hell, I am not letting it slip through my fingers.
“How?” I press, stepping closer, forgetting Snow for one single breath.
“The Island Rat,” Gus answers, mask coming off, taking his place at his brother’s side.
“The rodent who runs around on all fours?” Doc hedges, voice flat with disbelief.
“She isn't an animal!” The girl's voice cracks across the clearing, sharp enough that I have to lean around Jaq just to get eyes on her. Unlike me, he doesn't move to block the view, none of them do. They just let us look, like they've got nothing to hide and no reason to guard her the way we guard ours. Her hair's gold where Snow's is midnight, and her eyes are a blue that's gone bright and furious, daring us to say something else stupid. There's a challenge sitting in that stare that lights something ugly and delighted in my chest. I fucking love a girl with teeth. “She's a girl who has clearly lived through hell.”
“Preaching to the choir there, sister.” Snow, of course. I cut a warning glare over my shoulder and she meets it dead on and huffs like I'm the one being unreasonable. Fine. She wants to run her mouth in front of strangers, I'll have her bent over my knee tonight, reminding her exactly whose permission she needs to speak.
The blonde takes a step forward and it costs me something physical not to bark at her to stay the fuck back. Bash doesn't have my restraint, his hand closes around Snow's arm and hauls her behind him, he scowls down at her. She just scoffs at him like he's an inconvenience.
