Page 67 of Cursed Shadows 4

To hide.

My hands slap onto the thick trunk of a tree.

Without so much as a breath, I scale it. Fast.

The gloved grip of my hands on twigs and pine needles and branches propels me.

The bounding cascade of boots smacking down on earth draws nearer. It strengthens from a faint, distant sound, an echo, into a shout that circles me.

I still.

My breath pins to my throat.

I stand, uneasy, on two branches, one boot planted on each, and my forehead pressed to the rough bark of the tree.

Wrapped in mist, I freeze and silence myself.

The footsteps draw nearer. And they slow down.

My eyes clench shut. A silly thing. As though, if I can’t see, then they can’t see me.

I hug the tree.

The wetness on my cheeks could be from the blood I spilled. It could be from a silent stream of tears I hardly feel through the numbness of it all.

The footsteps don’t run by. They don’t thunder and boom. Now, they are softer, crunching gently on nettles, flattening dirt, prowling nearby.

I chance a look down the heights of the tree, and I realize how far I climbed in the panic.

Outlines of bulk and muscle disturb the mist below. The shadows don’t hover near the base of the tree, they move through the area, scouring.

I count three outlines.

Ronan moves with them.

How far would he take it if they caught me…

A question I don’t want the answer to.

If he spots me up here, will he announce it to the others?

Just yesterday, I would have said no. I would have been adamant that he would look the other way, or even help me. But he wouldn’t kill me.

Now…

I can’t trust anyone.

Ridge was never meant to turn on me.

I trusted him.

And he stuck a knife into me.

To think that if he hadn’t been poisoned, lost his strength when I found him, that if he hadn’t let me nurse him back to health just to keep me around for the right moment…

My face crumples.

A thick sob tenses in my throat.

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