Akara scrutinizes me one more time before taking a swig.
“She was embarrassed as hell,” I continue, “and I felt like shit after. I just wouldn’t want Sulli to have to feel that her first time.” I add more strongly, “And she wouldn’t with me. Confidence and experience guarantee that.” I’m not sixteen fumbling around anymore.
Akara rests his arm on his knee. “You don’t need to convince me of anything like that. I know you’d be good for her.” He glances at me. “But probably not better than me.”
I watch Sulli swing to the rock again. “Only she can decide that.”
He leans back. “Yeah, but it’s not like she’s going to take a test run.”
“Which is good,” I tell him. “This isn’t about who’s the best lay.”
Akara nods, going quiet as Sulli misses the handhold again. “You weren’t there, but during the FanCon tour, you remember Thatcher and I talking about how the bus broke down?”
I fit another toothpick between my lips. “Yeah?”
“There was a fortuneteller in this small town, and sometimes I think about what she told Sulli.”
“What’d she tell her?”
“Something like you’re determined, a go-getter, and there’s a guy who protects you strongly, and you will fall—and then Maximoff cut her off. At the time, I thought it was fall in love, but that was back when she wasn’t climbing. Now I think she was referring to a literal fall.”
We’re more unblinking, more laser-focused, and I want to shake my head and tell Akara he’s wrong. But the energy in the air has been off most of the day.
If I’m honest with myself, it almost feels like we’re being watched.
Hairs stand up on my neck, and I remember, “I lost my rosary.”
“When?”
“This morning. I was looking for it before we hiked over here.”
Akara lets out a laugh. “Fuck, Banks, you lose everything.”
He’s not wrong. “At least I haven’t lost my fucking mind yet.” I shut another eye.
“You’re in pain?” he finally asks.
“Small headache,” I mumble, breathing through my nose. “It’s nothing.” Don’t puke.
He grimaces. “Doesn’t look small, Banks.”
“I’m fine.” To switch the subject, I land on something I’ve thought about. “Do we know if Sulli has done more with the Rooster than just kiss?”
Akara turns back to watch her. “I don’t know. She hasn’t said anything to me. But that doesn’t mean much since she shut me out after their break-up. I don’t think she’d tell me, if she did.”
I cinch my eyes closed, more from the migraine, and rake a hand roughly through my hair. “So he could have put his fingers in her.” I open one eye.
Akara’s jaw sets, and he passes me the water bottle. “I’m trying not to think of murder today, Banks, could you please shut up.”
I pop the cap. “I’m just throwing out possibilities.”
“And I’m holding onto the one we know: he didn’t sleep with her.”
“Right on.” I put the water bottle to my lips. Taking a hearty swig, then wiping my mouth with my arm. “I don’t think she gave him a blowie either. He seems like the kind of guy that’d never shut up about it.”
Akara smiles. “Small thanks to that.”
On the rock face, Sulli takes another leap and this time, she grabs the second handhold.
“Get some,” I say under my breath, my chest swelling for her.
Akara is grinning.
Time ticks by, and as the sun starts to lower in the early evening, Sulli finishes climbing. Back on the ground, sweat drips off her forehead and she guzzles water from a CamelBak nozzle, the bladder filled with a couple liters of water.
“I think I can do it in a couple days,” she tells us. “One more practice and I’ll nail it.”
Akara high-fives her, then tickles beneath her armpits.
She squeals, “Kits!” and squirts him with water.
A tinge of jealousy rises. Hate that. But I won’t ever have that kind of relationship with her. It’s not how we started. It’s not really what I want with her either. Not that I’ve dated that much. That’s Akara’s wheelhouse. But I’m not Akara Kitsuwon.
I’m Banks fuckin’ Moretti.
I pick up my backpack and swing the strap over my shoulder. When I go to carry Sulli’s, she says, “Oh hey, I got that.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” She slings her Patagonia backpack on. “Not too heavy.” She slugs my waist. “I could probably beat you in a footrace with a hundred pounds.”
“Probably.” I slide an arm across her shoulders while she’s next to me.
She intakes an audible breath, then smiles at my arm on her. Sulli even takes my hand that hangs near her bicep and places a kiss on my knuckles.
I can’t take my eyes off her, and as a bodyguard, that is bad. Really fucking bad. And I’m about to lean down and kiss her.
But Akara glances up at the sky. “Hey, we’re going to have to jog back to make it to camp before sundown.” His severity kicks my ass into gear. “I don’t want us to be on the trail in the dark.”
I drop my arm off Sulli and eagle-eye the path.
She nods.
“Banks, you go out front,” Akara orders.
Usually I don’t question a superior. At least not to their face. I’ve learned to shut my mouth, even when I think they’re wrong. But I point out, “I’m slower than you and her. Shouldn’t you two be out front and I’ll take the rear?”
“That’s why you should set the pace.”
I nod, realizing he wants us to stick together. So I just go on ahead. The trail is riddled with fallen logs and tall grass.
Sulli is on my ass in an instant. I glance over my shoulder as I jog.
“This is nice,” she says, barely breaking a sweat. “Leisurely and scenic. I fucking like it.”
I laugh. “Good because I’m not busting my ass by going any faster.”
“Yeah, don’t do that. I like your ass how it is, Banks.”
Blood pumps harder.
I wish I could spin around and just take her face in my hands. Kissing the hell out of Sulli is on my brain when I know I should be more alert.
“Watch for snakes,” Akara calls to us.
Facing forward, I run as fast as I can. Having the longest legs of the three of us means nothing when I’m two-hundred-plus pounds of muscle. I’m not slow, but I lack the speed that Sulli could clock.
Wind whips around us, and my shoes crunch fallen leaves and rocks. Akara and Sulli crack a few jokes for a couple minutes before they go quiet. Just letting nature sink in.
Even with the wind, the air feels still. Strangely calm.
The thump of our feet on the dirt is a familiar noise that brings a sense of comfort. I’ve run miles upon miles in the military, a rucksack strapped to my back. I’ve run after Sulli in Italy.
Now I’m running in front of her in Yellowstone.
I stay in the moment.
I’m right here. My vigilant gaze sweeps every meter ahead. The trail widens, woods on the left, and the endless view of sky on the right. It shouldn’t—and I don’t know why—but Skylar pops into my head.
His face.
The one I remember.
He was fifteen. He’ll always be fifteen to me, even though he was my older brother, and that fact settles heavy on my chest for a split-second.
Suddenly, a bloodcurdling sound rips through the air. Violent, like a cross between a screech and a growl. The second sound comes quicker, faster than I can even turn around.
It’s a loud thump.
I turn to look at Sulli’s six.
At Akara’s six.
No.
I race back to him.
Akara has hit the ground.
And a cougar is braced on his back.
21
AKARA KITSUWON
I’m going to die here.
Two-hundred pound
s of animal assailed me from behind. The impact is worse than a kick in the ring. My face eats dirt. I struggle to breathe with a mouthful of earth. Claws dig painfully into my flesh. I grit down and elbow the animal.
Barely able to distinguish what it is.
Cougar, I think.
I elbow again. My pulse in my ears, I can barely even hear. Nails rip at me, and I know it’s going to aim for my neck.
My jugular.
I’m going to die here. The sheer dread pushes my fight-or-flight instinct—I ram my elbow harder, not letting the cougar at my windpipe.
I’ve been camping enough times with the Meadows family to hear Ryke and Daisy in my head.
Stand tall and big and loud.
I’m already on the ground.
Don’t let it have access to your neck.
I’m trying.
Never run away or turn your back.
It’s on my damn back!
Adrenaline pumps in my ears and I can’t get to my gun that’s on a belly-band at my waist. My knife is closer. Clipped chest-high on my backpack strap, I reach for the hilt. Exposing my neck for a single second.
“KITS!” Sulli’s deafening screams fill my ears.
“GET OFF HIM!” Banks yells even louder, and the cougar falters, distracted, for a millisecond. Enough time for me to unclip my knife, and I stab the cat’s torso.
He lets out a wailing hiss and eases up on me. I roll out to the side, just as Sulli swings her backpack at the cougar’s head. Once, twice, and then her backpack slips out of her fingers.
I struggle to stand, then freeze in a crouch as the cougar locks eyes with me.
“Don’t move,” Banks tells me, holding out a hand.
We’re all perilously still. None of our eyes shift off the animal.
“He’s going to pounce on him,” Sulli warns Banks. While the cougar stalks me, Sulli tosses rocks and stones at him. “GO THE FUCK AWAY!”
The cougar doesn’t turn on her.
He’s after me.
I stand fully up. He lunges, and his paws crash against my chest. My back hits the dirt again, and I just start stabbing.
Every piece of flesh I can find, I sink my knife in and pull out. The sound the cougar makes is guttural, brutal, and I use my forearm to block him from biting my face.
His teeth are like blades puncturing through my skin. Pain radiates in my elbow, and I feel Banks trying to physically wrestle the animal off me.
He’s been trying since the moment it jumped. My stomach sinks when I realize he doesn’t have a gun.
Since he didn’t have a band for his, I’m carrying his gun in my pack. I had more room.
My call.
My mistake.
A fatal fucking mistake.
And then the cougar lashes at Banks as he drops down to his knees.
“NO!” I yell, sitting up to see the cougar raking its claws at my friend. Banks tries to throw him off, but the cougar is close to his throat. I sink my knife into the cougar’s breast. The animal writhes. Blood is everywhere.
Banks quickly reaches for my waist.
He’s going for my gun.
His hand slips up my shirt, grabs the firearm from the band, and without hesitation, he rotates and fires three quick rounds.
The pop pop pop is layered with a growl. It takes me a second to register that the limp, dead cougar on top of us isn’t the one growling.
The animal has already gone slack on our bodies. The weight crushing, oxygen-stealing, and I turn my head to find Sulli.
I see what made that noise, and blood rushes out of my face.
A second cougar.
And it’s charging after Sulli.
22
SULLIVAN MEADOWS
Stand tall and big and loud.
Don’t let it have access to your neck.
Never run away or turn your back.
A second cougar isn’t casually stalking me. He or she is springing towards me, and I know not to turn my back to the animal. But I have nothing to defend myself. No rock is going to stop the attack.
My eyes dart to the Patagonia backpack that flung out of my hand.
My gun.
I need the gun my dad gave me.
Heartbeat in my ears, I can’t hear anything or anyone as the cougar lunges.
Instinct takes hold.
I.
Just.
Run.
Feet to ground. Breath stuck in my lungs. I run.
I skid.
My fingers find my backpack and I’m fast as I reach in, but I’m not fast enough. Paws and claws crash into me, knocking oxygen from my lungs.
Fuckfuckfuck. My hand is on the hilt. Pain flares somewhere on my skin, my body, as I remove the gun from my pack and fire. The bullet rings my ears. And then I release five more pops in quick succession.
Growling and hissing immediately cease. All I hear now is my heavy breath. Fur blocks my gaze. His muzzle lies at my head. His body is on me.
His body is on me.
Warm blood soaks into my shirt. I try to push the animal off me, but my arm’s wedged wrong.
There’s just silence.
Pure silence.
It’s louder and more horrible than anything I’ve ever confronted. “KITS! BANKS!” I yell in raw fear. They’re hurt. I know they’re fucking hurt. The last thing I saw was both of them fighting off that other cougar.
How much death am I lying in right now?
They can’t be dead.
They’re okay. They have to be okay.
“BANKS! KITS!” I scream, hot tears in my eyes. “BANKS!”
Please don’t be dead.
Please don’t be dead.
In a panic, I struggle to push the cougar off me. “KITS!” Hardly breathing. Am I breathing? I choke for air.
“We’re right here,” Akara breathes out, and just like that, the cougar is lifted off me. I try to fight off the dread as soon as I see them.
They’re okay.
They’re okay.
I’m silently bawling—the fear I felt crushes me more than the cougar.
My bodyguards heave the animal aside, and I struggle to regain breath. “Fuck,” I choke and wipe my wet eyes with my forearm.
Crimson stains their clothes. Their skin. It’s hard to tell if it’s their blood or the cougars’. Akara’s shirt is falling off his body, hanging by one piece of fabric at his shoulder. Blood mats Banks’ hair, and they’re both sweeping me, assessing quickly.
I sit up slowly, inhaling jagged breath. Their eyes plant to the gun in my hand.
I haven’t let it go. It feels attached. Like a third limb.
“Sulli,” Banks says, bending down, and Akara drops to his knees in a wince beside me.
“Are you in pain anywhere?” Akara asks.
I swallow hard. Adrenaline hardly recedes to make way for the throbbing in my side. “Just here.” I wipe my watery gaze again and touch my hipbone. Red blood coats my fingertips. Don’t know for sure if it’s mine. “How badly are you two hurt?”
I want to magically take their pain away. I get they’re sworn to protect me. Being in the crossfire of threats is what they signed up for, but an animal attack was never a part of that contract.
“It’s not too bad,” Akara says, but he’s favoring his right arm. Blood trickles near his elbow. I crane my neck to get a better view of his back. Long claw marks rake along his shoulder blade. With the dirt and blood, I can’t tell how deep they are.
My stomach curdles. “That doesn’t look good, Kits.”
“I’m okay.” He’s still scanning my body for noticeable injuries.
I keep trembling, more from shock than anything else. My fingers tighten on the gun. It’s the only thing that feels controlled. Steady.
Banks unzips a backpack and pulls out a water bottle. A scratch runs across his bicep about as deep as the one on Akara’s back. He offers me water, but I shake my head.
“You two have worse injuries,” I say. “I’m certain min
e are superficial cuts.”
Banks and Akara share a look. “Just take a sip,” Banks says. “We’ll all have one.”
With my free hand, I accept the water bottle and make sure to take the tiniest sip, conserving the water for them. Akara rolls his eyes when I pass him the bottle.
“We need to get back to camp,” he says after he swallows water. He gives Banks the rest. “We have a First-Aid kit there.”
“You might need stitches, Kits,” I breathe.
He shakes his head. “I’ll be fine with some gauze and bandage. It’s too far a hike back to the RV camp tonight. Farrow can look at it tomorrow.”
Banks nods like this is a good idea.
I realize they’re both incredibly fucking stubborn, but they’re also weighing pros and cons. It’s their job to assess risks in situations.
Akara goes to stand, but Banks puts a hand on his leg. “Wait a sec,” Banks says. “We should keep sitting and breathing until both of you stop shaking.”
“I’m not shaking,” Akara refutes.
“Left hand.”
Akara holds it up. Sure enough, his palm quakes. “Shit.”
“Why aren’t you shaking?” I ask Banks.
“I was. It just stopped earlier.” He passes me the water again, even against my refusal. “Just focus on your breathing. We’re all alright. We’re all safe. It’s over.”
It’s over.
I take a bigger swig. The water goes down like a knot.
It could have been so much worse. Maybe I should be thankful that I’m alive to tell this story, but I just see the animal I killed. I hear the sickening noise he or she made as they died. Lying breathless feet away. No heartbeat. I took that soul.
I shake harder.
Fuck.
“Sul—” Akara starts.
“My dad,” I say in a whisper, blinking back tears. “He’s been to thousands of cities. Camped hundreds of places. He’s come face to face with bears, moose, cougars, almost every animal you can think of. And never in his fifty-years has he had to kill a single one.”
It breaks me.
My spirit cracks. Fractures. Splinters off.
Tears keep welling and cloud my vision. “My little sister will hate me.” I want to bury my face in my shirt, my hands, my lap—their chests.
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