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“There’s not. Hatchet’s been here twenty-two years and counting. Don’t you think if there was a way, he would have found it by now?”
I huff in frustration, hating his negative, matter of fact attitude. But also,twenty-two fucking years?!The guy’s notthatold. He must have come here when he was a teenager.
Holy shit, was I even born?!
Daddy Hatchet indeed.
I dig the toe of my boot into the grass. “I refuse to accept that. Maybe it’s not possibleright nowand we can’t leave just yet. But we need to bide our time, figure out their weaknesses, and strike when the moment is right.”
“We?”
“Well I can’t imagine you enjoy being somebody’s bitch any more than I do.”
“And how do you propose we do that then? Assumingwewanted to.” He shoves his hand into his pocket.
“We stick together. We watch each other’s backs. We pool our resources and knowledge. And we wait for the right opportunity to present itself. What about the shock chip? Is there any way to disable it or deactivate it?” I ask.
“Unfortunately, no. It’s programmed to respond only to the commands of the people who put it in us. But we can take precautions to avoid triggering it. Like not going against their orders, not trying to escape, and not acting out of line.” Nightshade takes a step closer, his voice low and serious.
“So we need to be careful.”
“We need to be careful, and we need to be smart. The people who run this place are experts in manipulation and control. They know how to get inside our heads and use our weaknesses against us. We need to stay strong and united, even if we’re not planning to leave.”
I nod in agreement, feeling a sense of relief that I’m not alone in this. “You do want to escape though, right?”
“I’m nobody’s bitch.”
A shrill whistle goes up and I startle. “Who’s that?”
“Hatchet. He’s somewhere nearby. Probably chopping wood.”
“So the sexy lumberjack look isn’t just a fashion statement?”
Night smirks. “And he’s not just chopping wood because he likes to polish his axe.”
That sounds way too kinky to be anything other than a euphemism.
I giggle. It’s a nice distraction from the reality of our situation. But as my laughter dies down, the weight of our predicament returns. We’re prisoners, rightly so, but with no way out and an unknown fate awaiting us. When I just thought I was going to prison, that was one thing. But being sent on secretive missions to kill on command? Fuck that.
“We need to come up with a plan,” I say, my voice low and urgent.
Nightshade nods, his eyes scanning our surroundings. “We do, but we can’t rush into anything. We need to bide our time, wait for the right opportunity.”
I sigh, frustrated. Waiting is the last thing I want to do. I want to take action, to fight back against our captors. But I know Nightshade is right. We need to be patient if we want to have any chance of escaping.
“Hatchet!” Nightshade shouts. “We’re heading back in. Want to join us?”
Two shrill whistles. Nightshade smiles.
“What does that mean?”
“It means he’ll meet us at the lift.”
“Does he only communicate in whistles?”
“Sometimes he uses smoke signals too,” he deadpans.
“You’re fucking hilarious.”
