Page 43 of Hunted in the Shadows
The humid air cooled slightly. “Letme?”
“You know what I mean,” I pushed on, faltering at the sting of betrayal in her glare. “Dozens of hunters from across the country set up shop here for weeks at a time—”
“I heard you before,” she cut in, sighing as she raked her hands through her hair. “I get it. I just hope you know what you’re asking of me. To sit here, helpless, wondering if you’re alright. Youknowthere was something by the car wreck. What if there are more of them—whatever they are?”
Her voice strangled off, her eyes darting between Cliff and me, swimming with shadow. I knew that look well, but it wasarresting to see it onher—that crippling fear of being the one thing standing between a loved one and their demise.
I stepped closer and reached out to brush her hand resting at her side—to provide even a shred of comfort. “I’m not asking you to like it. I’m asking you to trust me.”
Avoiding my touch, she flew in an arc out of reach and alighted on a branch overhead. “Don’t make me wait too long.”
“Half an hour, tops,” I said.
Pulling a gun from the waistband of his jeans, Cliff tossed it to Gwen. “Just in case. You remember how to use it?”
She smoothly caught the weapon and cradled it in her hands, scoffing. “If that’s your way of volunteering to be target practice, I’m game.”
“As tempting as that sounds, I’ll have to rain check,” Cliff said, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Think of it as payment.”
His gaze briefly flickered up to where Sylvia sulked, and he added under his breath, “Keep an eye on her.”
Gwen shooed us off with the barrel of the handgun. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry up, would you? I’m not giving up my whole Sunday for this. Just—” She faltered, swallowing the words back as her gaze rested on Cliff. “Be careful. Idiot or not, Iverson’s got this place by the balls.”
Cliff cocked his head to the side, sweeping a glance over her. “You keep trying to convince yourself you're not carrying a torch for me.”
“If you get yourself killed, this will take twice as long,” Gwen returned.
She and I locked gazes, and the faint glimmer of warmth drained out of her eyes. It became obvious that any concern rooted in Gwen did not extend to me, with the weight of unspoken words hanging between us. Memories glimmered behind her steely, kohl-rimmed eyes, promising that she hadn’t forgiven me for what had happened to Luke.
Not that I needed her forgiveness. Not then, not now.
I glanced toward Sylvia, suddenly arrested by the awful thought that she might not be entirely safe with Gwen—not when I had made it clear she meant something to me.
“Stand down, Nowak,” Gwen muttered, following my flighty gaze. “I’m not gonna lay a finger on her.”
“If you try, it’s not me you’ll need to worry about,” I replied, eyeing Sylvia’s perch in the branches above us. A cryptic smile played on my lips and seemed to rouse Sylvia slightly, even though her pretty features remained a taut mask of wary concern.
When I turned, empty duffles slung over my shoulder, Sylvia didn’t say a word.
Cliff and I set off along the bridge, beginning the long trek to the outpost. The wooden planks, dark and perpetually damp, creaked under our weight. I slowed my stride and glanced at the brackish water below. The bridge was elevated twenty feet—a drop that made my stomach churn, even if I’d crossed these planks enough times to avoid the trick ones. The unsteadiness of the bridge was yet another method of deterring wanderers, but one of these days, the precaution was bound to backfire. I white-knuckled the railing, watching algae drift in the gentle tide.
The bridge gave a sudden, jarring tremor. I glared as Cliff passed me with deliberately heavy strides.
“Really?” I barked, irritation mingling with my queasiness.
His laugh echoed across the marsh. “Afraid of a swim?”
“Asshole.” But the word lacked its usual bite. Amid the old wounds surfacing and the persistent uncertainty, falling into stride beside Cliff brought a peculiar comfort. He’d been righthere with me the first time I’d crossed this bridge, and against all odds, he was still by my side now.
The marshlands stretched in all directions, the mist oddly thick for the warm morning. The stillness unsettled me; the croaking of frogs, the birds calling out, the distant splash of wildlife moving in the water—none of it was here the way it should have been. When I glanced back the way we’d come, I could scarcely make out the bank against the haggard tree line. The car wasn’t visible at all.
“Sylv will come around,” Cliff said, following my gaze. “I’m sure she’ll cool off before you guys get your freak on again tonight.”
I snorted in protest, but worry overtook embarrassment. “I hope so. Still, I’d rather her be upset about staying behind than having her see that place. If she saw the Pit for herself…” I pushed the image from my mind. “She might look at me different. Dunno if I could bear that.”
“You’re overthinking it. After keeping her in a box for two nights, I doubt much is gonna shake the way she looks at you.”
He said it nonchalantly, but dammit, my heart stuttered. I felt like a teenager dying for more detail—How exactly does she look at me? What have you noticed? Has she told you anything?If going down this road distracted me from looking at the water below, I supposed it was worth a shot.
