Page 38 of Bratva Prince
No. She was still a backstabbing, deceitful woman, and I couldn’t let my former attraction cloud my judgment.
Hoisting one leg up, she grabbed a limb and started climbing.
“What are you doing?” I ran to her side, pulling her down. “You could barely walk over here, and you’re trying to climb?”
“Let go of me!” She pushed my hands away, pulling herself up onto the first limb.
“Willow, get down. I’ll climb the tree,” I said, pointing to myself.
“You?” She laughed, reaching up for the next branch. “Talk about barely walking. Don’t pretend you weren’t limping a bit yourself, Mr. Viking.” She flashed me a smile and turned back to the tree, pushing herself up. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”
“I didn’t think it was important.”
“You know,” she grunted, struggling to reach the next limb. “Daria was a nurse, and she taught me a thing or two about taking care of a wound. I could help you. If you let me, that is.”
I crossed my arms, facing away from her. She made it sound like the tension between us was my fault when she was the cause for it all. Yet, her offerwasenticing. And I needed to address my wound properly. Yeah, that was why I would let her help me, because of my wounds.
It wasn’t the attention I’d receive, or the touch of her hands on my skin, so gentle. Nope, it was the wounds.
“Just focus on getting back down and we’ll see then,” I said, watching her climb the final limb to the opening of the plane. Her arms were shaking and she was pouring sweat. Climbing that tree was taking a lot out of her.
She tested her step on the plane before pushing down, probably remembering the last time she was in it. With slow, calculated movements, she eased her way in, balancing on the backs of the seats. She called out, “What do you need?”
“Check for emergency supplies. There should be a red bag in that small closet to your right.” The top of her blonde hair was visible past the seat, but I couldn’t see much else from the ground.
“I don’t see a—oh, wait. There it is.” She tossed the bag over the edge of the plane and kept looking. “What else?”
“What else do you see?”
Before she could answer, the plane creaked in the limbs, and she froze in place.
“Forget it, we have the emergency supplies. It’s enough. Just get down here.”
“Wait.” Her voice was strained as she pushed herself up to the closet. A few more things were tossed—a few spare clothes and a blanket. “Hey, a bottle of wine,” she called out, waving the bottle above the seats.
I laughed and told her to come down.
“Alright, I’m coming.”
The plane creaked some more, shifting slightly. In a matter of seconds, the entire half of the plane plummeted from the tree limbs, smashing against the ground.
“Willow!”I screamed, rushing toward her. Shoving one of the seats to the side, she was curled underneath, her head tucked beneath her arms.Good stance.
With her big, blue eyes, she looked up at me and smiled, holding out a bottle. “I saved the wine.”
We collected our findings and headed back to camp to eat and patch up. “If we need to, we could probably use those seats as a cushion for a bed. I’ll search the front of the plane for tools.”
“And maybe for dinner, we can drink the wine,” Willow suggested with a devious smile.
“Sure,” I agreed, laughing at her expression. “Why not.”
She pranced back to the camp, her steps lighter than air as she bounced happily, no longer affected by injuries. I shook my head, limping to keep up.
“So, where did you learn to climb like that?” I asked.
“When I was a child, I used to hide out from my father by climbing the trees at the estate.”
The mention of Arman made me seethe, but seeing the somber expression on her face as she said it kept my rage at bay. Confliction tore me apart as I couldn’t decide if I felt sorry for her, or was glad that she’d suffered.
