Page 55 of Princess

“Were you pissed with him because of it?”

“Of course I was pissed. Who wants to live in some sort of enforced bubble?”

“No one. But it was an unnatural situation. Not sure there were any good choices there.”

I sigh and slump back in my seat. “Yeah. I guess. But still…” I don’t finish the thought.

Mack glances over at me curiously. He’s got dark eyes that radiate warmth and intelligence. It’s impossible not to like him. “You still holding that against him?”

“No. I actually haven’t thought about it for a long time. But I spent years having absolutely no idea how he feels about anything, and recently he’s told me a little more. So I’m just trying to put all the pieces together.”

“Ah. Makes sense. Just don’t be too hard on him.”

I stiffen my shoulders. “I’m not too hard on him! But he’s got to trust me. Really trust me. Otherwise, how will we ever…” I don’t finish that thought either. It reveals too much.

It’s easy to talk to Mack, but I really don’t know him that well.

“Give him time. He’ll get there.”

“That’s what Faith said.”

“Faith knows what she’s talking about.”

“Yeah. I’m sure.” I give my head a shake and decide I want to change the subject. After all, we’ll reach our destination in less than thirty minutes, and then there’s no knowing what will come next. “What is Mack short for? Mackenzie?”

It occurs to me then, as I ask the random question, that I don’t even know Grant’s first name. On the day we met, he told me that Grant was his last name. So what’s his first? Why hasn’t he told me? Why haven’t I asked?

I shake the thought away to focus on my conversation with Mack.

“Nope.” He’s got almost a smile on his lips as he focuses forward on the beat-up road we’ve been driving on.

“Mack. Mack. Mack.” My mind goes blank as I try to figure it out. “I can’t think of anything else. Tell me!”

“Malachi.”

“Seriously? I’ve never met anyone with that name before.”

“Well, you have now.” He turns to grin at me.

“I like it. And I’m very happy to meet you, Malachi.” I mean it. I’m not sure anyone else could have managed to distract me on this drive and also make me feel better.

“I’m happy to meet you too. But don’t go around and tell everyone else my real name. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

10

Whenever I imagine battle,I see one of those epic fantasy movies where thousands of men or monsters line up in formation on opposite sides of a field. The leader bellows out a rousing speech, building emotional momentum until the armies charge at each other, screaming bloody death.

That feels like a battle to me.

Not this.

Our vehicle was one of the last to leave New Haven, so when Mack parks the truck on the side of a small country road, we only have a few minutes to wait. Mack focuses on his watch—it’s an old-style one you hand wind every day—and we sit in silence for three minutes.

Then he says, “Okay. Let’s go.”

The three of us get out of the truck and make our way through the woods that surround the bunker camp. I’m moving with the others. Doing exactly what I need to do. But I’m in a weird emotional stupor where I can’t even process what’s about to happen. My feet take one step after another. My eyes scan through the trees. My hand hovers near the gun in my belt holster. I breathe automatically. And I’m not fully aware of any of it.

It doesn’t take long until we’re approaching the edge of the woods.

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