The Union

by T. H. Hernandez

  “Damnit, Evan, wait!” He throws a few more choice words in for good measure.

  Not a chance. He can’t talk his way out of this. Whatever I thought was going on with us was just as Lucy said, another fling, destined to end sooner rather than later.

  Balling my fists, I stomp away from the house toward the wooded area. If he follows me, my fist might just connect with that perfect face of his. I glance over my shoulder to see him turning back to the house. Tears fill my eyes against my will and I shove them away, but more rush in to take their place, blurring my vision.

  I trip over a log, falling hands first to the ground, tearing open the skin on my palms. That hurts a lot less then my heart, though. I told myself I wasn’t that far gone, but it was a lie because I’m in deep for that boy.

  Something moving through the tangled vegetation stops my thoughts as unease takes over. I stand and peer into the darkness, straining to see. Low-growing plants rustle only seconds before a mountain lion comes into view, its eyes reflecting the moonlight like two glowing orbs.

  Fear immobilizes me as I lock gazes with a giant predatory cat.

  The beast lowers its front end, it’s back still up, tail swishing.

  My mind struggles with what to do next as panic crawls through me like vines in an untended garden, choking off rational thought.

  If I give into panic, I’m dead. Somehow, instinct kicks in, and I take a slow, careful step back, keeping my eyes on the lion. My pulse races, making my limbs unsteady, as I move back another step.

  The lion’s tail twitches.

  My foot catches and fall back, landing on my ass with a thud.

  My head whips up in time to catch the lion running toward me, it’s powerful legs readying for a leap. I turn my head and squeeze my eyes shut, holding my breath.

  A sharp sound, like the crack of a bat, startles me. My eyes fly open, zeroing in on the lion crumpled in a heap two yards away.

  I stand and spin around. Cyrus is holding a still smoking rifle, Lucien, Marcus, and Sonia pulling to a stop behind him. In an instant Cyrus is at my side, pulling me to him. I forget my anger and dig my fingers into his shoulders, trying to get closer.

  He kisses the top of my head as my body trembles against him. He hands his rifle to Sonia and cradles me against his chest, whispering soft words as he guides me back to the house.

  I can’t stop shaking or form any thoughts except of the lion lunging at me. Cyrus deposits me on the couch and drapes a blanket over my shoulders. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out because I don’t know what to say, there are too many emotions rolling through me — fear, gratitude, love, heartbreak, guilt.

  “I’ll be right back,” he says and heads into the kitchen behind me. Voices converse in whispered tones, too low for me to make out, until Cyrus snaps, “Not tonight, Draya.”

  He returns to my side and lies down, tugging me next to him. I snuggle back into his warmth, pushing away all the ugliness from tonight and allow myself to surrender to the fatigue hell-bent on dragging me under.

  25

  Surrender

  I let out a groan and stretch, opening my eyes to unfamiliar surroundings. Right, I slept on the couch. The events of last night come flooding back. Cyrus left at some point, but I never felt him get up.

  After a solid sleep, I’m resigned to leaving, but it doesn’t hurt any less. I started to believe I belong here because of Cyrus or because I felt needed, or maybe a little of both. I get up and fold the blanket, draping it over the arm.

  Cyrus approaches from the kitchen with two mugs of tea. God, I’d kill for just one cup of coffee. He hands one to me and inclines his head toward the front door. “Come on, we need to talk.”

  With a sinking heart, I follow him outside where he climbs up on the rock. He reaches down to take my tea and pulls me up next to him. His eyes have a determined edge to them and the sting of betrayal is as fresh as when I first realized he was sending me home.

  “Evan…” He sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “You are the most frustrating girl I’ve ever met.”

  Tears threaten, but I blink them back and swallow hard, refusing to cry in front of him. “It’s fine. Really. I get it.”

  “What? What do you get? I haven’t said anything yet.”

  “You…you…” my bottom lip trembles and I clamp my top teeth down on it to still it.

  “What you overheard last night…it’s not what you think.”

  “No? Somehow I doubt that.” My eyes are glued to my drink, watching the water turn a darker brown as the leaves steep.

  He blows out a long, frustrated breath. “Your uncle’s position in the Union poses a very real danger.”

  “What?” My head jerks up. “What kind of danger? He doesn’t even know anyone exists out here.”

  Another heavy sigh. “Trust me, he knows. But more importantly, your family isn’t going to give up looking for you until you’re found.”

  A new wave of guilt gnaws at my stomach and I set my cup down “I don’t get how that’s dangerous for you?”

  “Not just me, everyone in the Ruins, Evan. The Union knows we’re here, whether you believe it or not. When they don’t find you in the Union, they’ll search out here, and they won’t care who gets hurt in the process. They wrote us off a hundred years ago, we have no value to them.”

  “That’s not true. That’s not how—”

  “We’ve seen it before.”

  A dirt cloud billowing in the distance draws my attention over his shoulder. Cyrus follows my gaze, and his body tenses. He jumps down and reaches for my hand, pulling me with him.

  “I need you to go inside and stay there.” He grabs my shoulders and turns me to face him. “I’ll explain everything later, but for once, listen to me.” As I turn and run toward the house, I hear him yell, “Lucien, we’ve got company.”

  Pacing the living room, I try not to overthink things, but this can’t be good. Outside, the crunching of rocks and twigs is followed by silence. Bits of conversation float in through the open window, but I can’t make out what’s being said. The voices get louder, and I recognize Lucien’s and then Cyrus’s. A third voice, one I’m far too familiar with, makes my heart slam to a halt. Walker.

  How did he find me? I fly upstairs and shut my door, pushing the dresser over to block it. Panic grows, overtaking my thoughts. I move the chair under the window and climb up, sliding out the narrow opening.

  My breaths come fast and my hands shake as I twist around and grip the sill with my fingers. Taking a deep breath, I squeeze my eyes shut and let go. Wind rushes through my hair before I hit the ground hard, jarring my hips and knees.

  Leaves and dry grass crunch beneath my feet as I cross the yard toward the wooded area, careful to keep the house between me and the group out front. Once I’m safely camouflaged by the trees, I break out into a run, not bothering to look back.

  My lungs are ready to burst by the time I slow my pace, unsure where I’m heading. Except maybe I do. Maybe I’ve known all along where I’m going. All I need to do is follow the stream until I reach Cyrus’s hideaway. I glance back over my shoulder to make sure no one’s following me, then inch my way down the steep side into the ravine.

  My boot slides on a loose rock, and I slide on my ass several feet before my right foot catches on a root, twisting me around. A sharp pain shoots through my ankle as I come to a halt, dangling upside down.

  Blood rushes to my head as I repeatedly jerk my leg trying to untangle myself. With one final tug, it comes free, and I tumble down the remaining distance, landing in the water.

  Dripping from soaked head to sodden boots, I crawl to the bank and assess my injuries. A few tender spots on my shins and a couple of scrapes seem to be the worst of it. Until I stand and realize my ankle won’t support my weight.

  Hobbling along the shore is painstaking and it takes me close to an hour before I see the structure up ahead. And there’s only one way to reach it. With slow and painful mov
ements, I haul myself up the side of the ravine, grabbing roots and clawing the dirt with my good foot, slipping and swearing. I’m drenched in sweat, dirt, and weeds by the time I drag myself onto the main floor.

  After lying on my back long enough to catch my breath, I take off my boot and examine my ankle. Deep purple patches cover swollen tissue. My stomach rumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten since dinner last night. I wonder if Cyrus has any food stashed in here.

  Using one of the posts, I pull myself up and poke around the bench and cubbies, but come up empty. I hobble across the floor and find a rifle and a box of bullets beside a set of built-in shelves. Standing on the toes of my left foot, I reach up to the top shelf and my hand brushes against something cool and hard — a knife. A fishing pole and some matches are in the corner and there’s a stream full of fish below me. Guess I’m better equipped at surviving out here than Walker gave me credit for.

  After a frustrating day of not catching anything, I drag myself back to the hideaway hungry and defeated. I climb down the ladder into the suspended sleeping area with the knife and a rifle that may or may not be loaded — I’m not sure how to tell.

  Shaking out the blankets to make sure nothing of the eight-legged variety is waiting to crawl on me, I settle down on the sleeping cushions, trying to relax. The knife tucked under my pillow and the rifle under my arm, I’m not far from sleep when a rustling in the leaves above startles me. My pulse quickens and I sit upright, straining my ears, unsure if it’s the wind, an animal, or worse.

  The rustling comes closer, and I freeze, my breaths increasing, as I realize I’m basically trapped down here.

  It’s not the wind or an animal, unless the animal wears boots. Fear coats my skin in an icy layer as heavy footsteps move across the floor above me. I grip the knife tighter with my right hand and balance the rifle in my left.

  The footsteps head toward to the ladder and I scoot back until I’m against the far wall.

  The boots descend, landing on the top rung and I drop the knife to grab the gun with both hands, my finger shaking violently on the trigger. I let out a small cry when I recognize Cyrus and throw myself at him. He sighs and buries his face in my hair, circling his arms around my waist.

  He leans back and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, then his lips land on mine. He kisses me like he hasn’t seen me in weeks instead of hours.

  My doubts about his feelings for me melt beneath his scorching kiss. He pulls back, his mouth still close enough that we breathe the same air. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I know you told me to stay inside, but I couldn’t. Not when...” An involuntary shudder rolls through me.

  “Not when what?”

  My chest tightens. “Not with Walker out front. What did he want?”

  He shakes his head and takes a seat on the cushion. “He was looking for you.”

  I drop own beside him, and pick a leaf out of the blanket. “He’s the leader of the pack of guys who kidnapped me. How did he find me?”

  He runs a hand through his hair, looking in the direction of the house. “He said he was trying to find his missing niece and heard we had someone staying with us who fit her description. If this Walker is a smuggler, it wouldn’t take much to connect the dots. Especially with Dag being tight with them.”

  “So what happened? Is he gone?”

  “Yeah. Lucien told him you’d moved on, saying you had to get home.”

  “Do you think he bought it?”

  “I wasn’t sure at first, but he eventually left. That’s why I waited until dark to come out here. He seems pretty motivated to find you. He’ll probably watch the house until he’s convinced you’re gone and then try to figure out where you went.”

  Cyrus pulls me closer and I rest my head on his shoulder. We sit quietly for a few moments, avoiding the big topics of conversation and all the unsaid words between us.

  I’m too tired to get into anything else tonight, so when he lies down, tugging me with him, I let myself succumb to the bone weary exhaustion crawling through me.

  26

  Doubts

  Morning light peeks between the slats, casting long shadows. I roll over looking for Cyrus, but he’s not here. Based on the position of the sun, I’ve slept later than normal.

  Bruises in several delightful shades of purple and black populate my skin. My ankle looks as if it tried to swallow a grapefruit. I stand, and the second I put any weight on my right foot, dark spots swim across my vision. I hop to the ladder and drag myself up with my arms.

  No Cyrus here either. I plop down on the bench to wait for him. Before I have too my time to dwell on my empty stomach, whistling comes through the trees. A tune I’m not familiar with. Moments later Cyrus steps into the hideaway and stomps dirt and leaves from his boots. He spots me waiting and a smile blossoms on his face.

  “Good morning. Hope you’re hungry.”

  “Famished.”

  He hands me a foil packet of freshly cooked fish and sets two thermoses of tea on the table. He sips his tea while I devour my breakfast. When I’m done, I sit back, satisfied.

  “Let me have a look at that ankle.”

  I move over to make room. He lifts my foot to his lap and examines it, but doesn’t touch it, for which I’m grateful. Then he reaches over and pulls some bandaging strips from his bag and begins to wrap my ankle, starting just above my toes.

  “Where did you go this morning?” I ask. “You’re even more prepared than usual.”

  “Back to the house. We should hang out here for a few days, so I grabbed some supplies.” He pulls the last of the strip tight and clips it with two metal prongs. “And I wanted to talk something over with Lucien.” He places my foot back on the seat cushion “This is serious, Ev, we need a plan, and I think we’ve got one.”

  I lift my eyes to meet his. The way he called me, Ev, is warm and intimate. I reach over, my lips scraping against rough stubble on their way to his mouth.

  He leans, drawing my legs up to his lap. The pads of his fingertips trail up my shin, sending tingles of excitement racing through me.

  I recline, tugging him with me, and my hands roam the firm muscles in his shoulders and chest. His fingers glide over my hip before sliding under my shirt and across the bare skin of my abdomen, making me gasp. He nips at my bottom lip and deepens the kiss, filling me with a desire that drowns out everything else, including rational thought.

  I grasp his arms to steady myself before coming up for air, Pulling back, I try to clear my head. He studies me, brow furrowed.

  “I’m sorry. I just…I need…” I have no idea what I need.

  Space, definitely some space.

  Away from him.

  So I can think.

  Yesterday I was sure he was sending me home, now I’m seconds away from getting naked and horizontal with him. That’s not the best way to sort out what I want.

  His gaze falls from mine. “Okay.” With his tousled hair, he appears vulnerable, more boy than man as his face morphs into an unreadable mask.

  There’s too much bouncing around in my head right now, and whatever’s going on with us is just one more thing I need to figure out.

  Cyrus took off after I put the brakes, and he’s been gone all morning, giving me plenty of time to think. Unfortunately, I haven’t figured out much yet. Instead, I’m worried I screwed things up between us.

  When he finally returns, I search his face for anything to indicate he’s still upset about earlier, but he’s either over it or he’s hiding it well. He parks himself on the bench beside me.

  “We need to talk about something, and you’re not going to like it.”

  Or maybe not.

  He reaches into his pack and takes out a pair of scissors and a box of hair bleach. “We have to change your appearance.”

  “Um…” I touch the back of my head, and while I may not love my hair, I’m sort of attached to it. “Okay, but not too short.”

  He turns me so my back is to him an
d tugs down a long curl before cutting it. I turn to glance over my shoulder and he’s holding more than twelve inches of hair. I suck in a breath and reach back to feel what’s left. With all the weight gone, it’s even curlier, and it springs up just below my shoulders.

  Cyrus sets down the scissors and fistful of hair to cup my cheek. “This isn’t easy for me either, but as sexy as your hair is, we need you to blend in.”

  He thinks I’m sexy? I shift my gaze from the pile of hair to his warm eyes, little jolts of electricity humming through me. I lean forward to kiss him again, but stop short, memories of this morning flooding back.

  “Talk to me, Ev. What’s wrong?”

  Shit. Is there any easy way to tell a guy you’re still a card-carrying member of Club V? “I’m not…you’re…” I sigh and chew my lip. “I’m a consequence of two people who rushed into something without…”

  The smile that takes over his face tell me he understands. Thank god, because I’m not sure I can continue. He leans forward, pressing his forehead to mine.

  “I’ll never push you to do anything you’re not ready for.”

  “I didn’t think you would, I just…wanted you to know.” And if what Lucy said is true, he’s a lot more experienced than me. I don’t want to disappoint him.

  He kisses my head, turns me back, and resumes cutting my hair. When he’s finished, he ties a band around the jumble of red curls and stuffs the whole mess in his bag. Then he helps me down to the creek and applies the bleach. We sit on the bank while we wait for the chemicals to do their job.

  “Where did you get the hair color?”

  “Sonia. She went blond a few years ago. Marcus hated it so there was some left over. No one can connect a recent purchase of hair color with the hot new blonde living with us.”

  A warm flush rises up my chest, but a heavy dose of reality sets in when I remember why we’re doing this. I need to tell him the rest of my story.