Page 10 of Fractured Fates
I stare at his face, into his dark eyes, and there never really was one to make. We both know that. He’s playing along, letting me believe I’m the master of my own destiny. But I was always going to go with him. Willingly or forced.
I know when I’m beat. Doesn’t mean I won’t go down without a fight, without grabbing a hold of some kind of victory.
“I’ll come with you,” he nods sternly, “on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“My pig comes too.”
His brow crashes down over his eyes. “You want to take your pig?”
“Pip, yes.”
“You do know pigs grow fucking massive. They aren’t pets.”
I scowl at him. “Pip’s a runt. He’s not growing any bigger.”
“They won’t let you keep a pig in Arrow Hart Academy.”
I shrug. “I’m not leaving without him.”
“Fine. But I have a condition myself.”
“Okay. What is it?”
“No bolting. You run away and leave me with the pig, I’ll be frying up some sausages.”
I lift my forefinger to his face and point it at him like a gun.
“You hurt my pig–”
“You run away…”
We glare at each other. Then he shakes his head.
“Come on. Let’s get moving. It’s not safe out here.”
I glance towards my knife, the carved silver handle glinting in the morning’s light. I don’t want to leave it behind. It belonged to my dad. It’s the only possession of his I own. It’s kept me safe. But the thought of yanking it from the dead man’s skull has vomit crawling up my throat.
I turn away.
“Okay,” I say and start walking in the direction of home.
4
Rhi
We walk in silence,both on the lookout for another ambush, his heavy boots the only sound in the eerily quiet forest. It’s as if the birds and the trees are all frightened of this man. I don’t blame them. He looks pretty terrifying, like an avenging angel stepped straight out of hell.
Every now and then I take a furtive glance his way, grabbing my opportunity to examine him further. The leather of his boots is well worn, in contrast to the thick, luxurious material of his cloak. He’s pulled the hood up over the crown of his head, but I can see the expression on his face, his brow serious and creased with concentration. I find myself wondering what he looks like when he smiles, if he ever does, and wondering if guilt hangs over his head like mine from all those men he’s killed. My gaze drops to the expensive leather gloves he wears on his hands. How many people has this man captured? How many has he killed?
After an hour we reach the clearing and cross to the door of my house, he halts, just as Pip comes skidding out, grunting loudly as he races towards us.
I crouch down and he scuttles up into my lap, licking at my face as I shower him with kisses.
“We need to get out of this shithole as quickly as possible,” the man in black says, disgust curling his lips. “You have a backpack?” I nod. “Fill it with whatever you want to take – but be quick about it and you’re carrying it so don’t make it too heavy.”
I tickle Pip’s ears and chew on my lip. How am I meant to decide what to take? It’s not like I own a lot – we’ve run so many times, I’ve got used to traveling light, to abandoning the things I love. But I still have some nicknacks I’ve collected over the years. I don’t want to leave any of it behind.
