Page 51 of Citadel

But there’s no way in hell I’m going to do it.

Not while I’m still breathing.

I nod. “Okay. Let’s go then.”

7

The restof the day is miserable. As miserable as some of those early bleak days on the coast.

Cole and I hike through the mountains, following the path of the highway but not walking directly on it. We stay in the trees so we’re less visible, so there’s not even a hiking trail we can follow.

Cole pulls out his long knife and cuts the worst of the branches and foliage out of the way for our passing, but I still feel constantly ambushed by leaves and twigs and ivy, and it’s much slower going than it should be.

Each minute bogged down in the woods means Breanna is that much farther away from me. They’re in vehicles. We’re on foot.

And God only knows what they’re doing to her.

Cole doesn’t talk much, but I never expected him to. He’d probably respond if I initiated conversation, but I’m not in the mood for chatting anyway.

I keep trying to imagine scenarios where we can somehow save Breanna, but even my fairly active imagination is strained for possibilities.

We might never even catch up with her, much less manage to rescue her from those monsters.

I’ve got bruises from the scuffle with the guys Cole killed, but they’re the least of my worries. By the time the sun sinks low in the sky and the forest is filled with more shadows than light, I’ve nearly forgotten that various parts of my body are aching. There are so many more important things to worry about.

Cole stops abruptly. So unexpectedly that I bump right into him.

I grab for his shirt instinctively. It’s damp from his sweat and holds the strong smell of his natural odor. I breathe him in. It isn’t what I’d call a pleasant smell, but I wish it didn’t feel like that particular scent belongs to me.

“You hear that?” he mutters.

I don’t hear anything except a faint hum of night bugs and the slight rasp of Cole’s breathing. “No.”

“It might be nothing. Let’s keep going.”

Pretty soon it’s going to be pitch-black in these woods. The one indisputable truth that everyone understands in this world is that you never, ever venture out in the dark, but I’m not about to suggest we stop. The farther we get this evening, the less distance will remain between me and Breanna.

Cole pulls out a flashlight from his bag—it’s one of those with batteries that are supposed to last forever—and he aims it in front of him with his left hand as he hacks at vines with his right.

We’ve walked for at least fifteen or twenty more minutes when he stops again. I don’t ask why. I can see even in the dim light that he’s listening.

“I think they’ve stopped for the night. I’m pretty sure it’s them I’m hearing, and it doesn’t sound like they’re moving.”

“Okay. Good.” For the first time in hours, a prickle of hope sparks in my chest. “I’m surprised they didn’t get any farther.”

“Even with vehicles, it’s slow going on roads this bad. And I bet they’re always stopping to pillage supplies. These kinds of assholes always do.”

Killing people to take their stuff, no doubt. I don’t say it though. No sense in giving voice to that thought.

Cole picks up his speed. He knows where he’s going now. And soon I can hear what he’s hearing too. It’s a hum of voices. A lot of them. It’s definitely that gang.

I wonder if they even noticed that two of their number never showed up again.

Maybe that kind of thing happens all the time.

We keep walking as the sun sets all the way until the world is lit only by less than half a moon and Cole’s flashlight. The voices grow increasingly loud until finally Cole stops. “They’re just over that hill.”

“So what should we do?”

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