by Jaymin Eve
Walking through this dark forest should be even more terrifying, but I just couldn't seem to muster the energy to feel anything except a mild sense of dread. I was here, there was nothing I could do to fix the situation, and since Blake wasn't around, this really wasn’t the worst place in the world.
After a while, I even started to enjoy the relative peace and scents of nature with a hint of snow in the air. I especially loved the glimpses of stars above when the clouds moved out of the way. Voices drew me toward our final destination, and I was a little surprised to step out into a cleared area. We’d been hiking through quite thick foliage until this point, but this area had been set up for camping. There were stone seats, a central fire that was just starting to kick into gear, and about half the number of guys who had started out.
They were all gathered to the side, so I moved closer, figuring this was where the action was. When I was a few feet away, I heard a grunt and a very familiar thud. A gasp escaped from me as my feet froze in place… Someone was fighting. Or worse.
When there was a gap in the crowd of males, I finally saw what was happening. One of the guides was laying into a stocky blond guy—either a rich kid had stepped out of line or this was the next test. Somehow, I doubted this was part of the program because, like letting us die, randomly beating the fuck out of us was counterproductive.
So the kid had messed up and was getting his comeuppance.
The guide turned then, lifting himself from his crouched position, and another gasp escaped from my mouth. Not because of the violence in the air or his lethally coiled muscles—I was no stranger to angry men who fixed their problems with fists. No surprise there. But what was a surprise was that the guide in question was all too familiar to me. And now I understood why, back at the first fire, his voice had stirred my body and lifted the hairs on my arms.
It was Dylan motherfucking Grant.
For a second, I wondered if maybe I was hallucinating. Had I hit my head at some point on the hike and not realized it? I mean, it wasn’t hugely surprising that Blake had sent me to a Delta-run camp, but why the hell was Dylan here? I mean, did their CEOs often camp in the freezing forest and beat the shit out of punk-ass rich boys?
My heart slammed against my chest as most of me struggled to understand how my two worlds had collided so spectacularly. Deciding that it might be better to run rather than face Dylan, I shuffled back, only pausing again when I accidentally stepped onto a loose branch, cracking it under my boots.
Despite the noise already in the campgrounds—dumbass dudes catcalling and carrying on about the fight—Dylan still heard me, his head whipping in my direction. Our eyes locked, and I could have sworn my heart skipped out of its normal rhythm as Dylan straightened to his extremely impressive height.
The other noises faded as the guys stepped back, no doubt worried they were about to be the next to fall victim to his fast fists and heavy blows. Dylan didn’t look happy, but what most of them weren’t aware of was that his anger was directed solely at me.
He took a step toward me, and I cursed myself for not running when I’d had the chance. I’d lied to him, he was not going to be happy about it, and the last thing I wanted to do was explain the reasons for my deceit and have it somehow get back to my brother.
"Brooklyn!" Matthew exclaimed, noticing me standing on my own. He hurried forward to usher me into the main group. Dylan remained where he was, front and center, icy green eyes locked on me. "Have you met Dylan?" Matthew asked when we got closer. “He owns this camp, and we’re lucky this round to have him here in person. His skills are unsurpassed, and learning from the best makes you the best.”
Yes, I was feeling super lucky about having him here in person.
Neither of us said a word, and Matthew actually shifted uncomfortably as he tried again, in reverse. "Dylan, this is Brooklyn Lawson, our female signup."
Dylan crossed his arms. "Brooklyn is it? And what brings Brooklyn Lawson into our program?"
God, the way he said my name, low voice scraping over the syllables as he emphasized it. I'd waited so long to hear it on his lips, but it wasn't exactly how I imagined. Dylan was pissed, and I was going to have some explaining to do.
I was too exhausted for this.
"My brother is an asshole," I answered truthfully. "He likes to punish me for existing, and apparently you all have a reputation here for destroying spoiled, rich fucks."
My eyes fell to the still unconscious guy on the ground.
"He tried to ambush another one of the kids," Matthew said, jumping in. No doubt he was confused about this tension between Dylan and me. If he even had the slightest clue of the history here, he'd run in the opposite direction. "With a knife. We don't allow weapons, and we don't encourage survival that way."
"So Dylan had to teach him a lesson," I said with a snort of laughter. "Looks like it worked."
Dylan shrugged, his broad shoulders extra-emphasized by the long-sleeved, tightly fitted black shirt he wore. "He's not dead, so he can count himself lucky."
Most people would think that was a joke, but I knew better. Dangerous men were all the same when you crossed them. The only reason I felt myself to be reasonably safe was that Dylan had no reason to hurt me, but that might all change when he pushed for more answers.
“So, what’s the plan now?” I asked as more of the guys stumbled into the clearing. There were at least half a dozen still missing, but most had figured out how to get here. “Are we sleeping here for the night?”
Please be distracted. Please be distracted.
Ben chose that very moment to saunter over, face relaxed. “If it isn’t my savior,” he said, wrapping an arm around me. Dylan’s face settled into cold, hard lines—the face of a killer who would feel not an ounce of remorse for stealing your life in one swift strike.
Matthew, smarter than he looked, took the opportunity to disappear, and I didn’t blame him. If anything, I was envious.
Ben, meanwhile, quickly removed his arm. “Sorry, boss, didn’t mean to get too friendly. I know that we’re here to teach and nothing else.” He winked at me though, and I sensed this one was going to be trouble, which was the absolute last thing I needed.
This camp was already turning out to be a much bigger pain in the ass than I’d anticipated with my secret worlds colliding, and I had a sense that I’d be the one left in pieces when it was all over.
“Dylan! We need to get these assholes organized,” one of the other guides shouted. “Want them to set up camp?”
He was still watching me, and did he fucking blink? “Yes. Snow is coming, so tell them to huddle close.”
I fully expected him to drag me off somewhere and demand answers, so my whole body jerked with surprise when he just turned his back on me and stalked away. He barked for Matthew as he disappeared into the trees, and anxiety washed through me in sickening waves.
Was he just going to ignore me? I would deserve it. We hadn't spoken in almost six weeks, not since that night I’d left the hotel room without so much as a word of goodbye, then blocked his number. Had he tried to contact me?
My heart pounded so hard I thought I might pass out, and when someone shoved past me, I almost screamed. Fuck. Fuck. I needed to talk to him or something. Maybe if I could explain things...
"Pull your weight, Lawson," one of the guides snapped, and I refocused just in time to catch the roll of tent fabric he threw at me. "No special dispensations just 'cause you have tits." He sauntered closer, rubbing a hand over his rough stubble and giving my tits a good, long look. "On second thought, maybe I can be convinced to let you slack off."
"Boss will have your balls as a necklace if he catches you trying to fuck the campers, Jeffries," Ben observed casually, rolling out some thin, foam sleeping mats a few paces away.
The guide who'd just propositioned me narrowed his eyes, then shot Ben an annoyed glance and shrugged. "Boss won't be here for the whole season." He gave me a wink of promise that sent shudders of fear rolling throu
gh me. "In the meantime, I'll be keeping an eye on you, Lawson."
I forced a tight smile to my lips, but when he finally stalked away, my hands were shaking. I recognized that predatory look in his eyes. It was the same one that Jonnie had. The same one Blake got when he'd had a few drinks.
"Here, I'll help." Ben took the wad of rolled-up tent fabric from my trembling hands and deftly unpicked the knots holding it closed. "Grab that end; we need to suspend it over this section of the clearing to protect us against the snow."
Silent, I did as he instructed, and the two of us managed to get it rigged up in half the time of the guys working on the other section. When it was done, though, I bit my lip and frowned.
"Is that it?" I asked.
Ben laughed. "Yup. Bare essentials, Lawson. Gives all you spoiled brats a swift immersion into reality." His grin was wide and teasing, but he was serious about the scarce shelter from the incoming snow. It was literally just a couple of thin waterproof sheets suspended over the clearing where thin foam mats had been rolled out to sleep on. Nothing would stop the wind or snow coming in from the sides, so whoever was stuck on the edges would have a rough night.
"Don't worry, Brooklyn," Ben said with a smile as Matthew reappeared from out of the trees near us. "I'll happily volunteer to keep you warm tonight. It's the least I could do after you saved me from wolves."
Matthew gave Ben a sharp look of warning. "Not a good idea, bro. Sorry, Lawson." His eyes turned apologetic as he looked at me, then he shoved Ben in the direction of the other guides, leaving me all alone.
With a sigh, I moved over to one of the rolls of foam closer to the fire and started to pull my sleeping bag out of my pack like the other guys were doing. A tight hand closed around my upper arm, though, and I stiffened.
"Not here," Dylan told me in a rough voice. "There." He pointed to a mat that'd been moved slightly away from the rest. It wasn't even fully under the shelter, for fuck’s sake.
My lips parted in disbelief, but Dylan wasn't fucking around. He gave me a small push in the direction of my mat, and I stumbled a little.
"Dylan—" I started, but his fingers tightened on my arm, making me squeak more from shock than pain.
"Save it, Brooklyn," he hissed in a quietly furious voice, "this isn't the time or the place." I flinched at his tone but locked my lips together. I was so used to following orders and keeping my mouth shut that I didn't even protest when he released my arm and stormed away to speak with the rest of his guides across the clearing.
I just heaved a sigh and knelt down on my mat to roll out my sleeping bag. Maybe I'd be in luck and it wouldn't snow after all.
8
My luck was as shit as always. It was nearing dawn, and the snow had just started to fall.
I was freezing, huddled down in every article of clothing and bedding they’d provided in the backpack—which was really not much at all. The wind howled around us, and despite our slightly protected camp, the trees nearby were flapping noisily, and with each new gust, another shiver wracked me.
Curling up tighter, I knew that if I stayed like this, I would probably find myself dangerously hypothermic, and surely, this camp would be in trouble if that happened. I just needed to drag my ass out and find someone to let them know I was about to freeze to death.
Only I couldn't seem to move.
Just as another shiver shook me violently, a wave of heat washed across the top of me, and it was so unexpected that I just lay there, stunned, trying to figure out what’d happened. When the heat sank further into my skin, allowing me to ease out of my clenched position, I lifted my head to see a new, thickly padded sleeping bag over the top of me.
What...
Pushing up further, I tried to catch sight of who'd helped me out, but there was no sign of life. In the low light of the barely lit fire, I could see that the far side of my sleeping bag had snow on it because I’d been pushed out of the shelter. More continued to fall, but at least I was reasonably warm with the new cover.
The torrents of anger that often swirled in my gut surged up as I once again found myself in a bullshit situation through no fault of my own. Why the hell was I even here? I was an adult. I’d finished school. I should have just walked out the damn door of my brother's house and never looked back. Surely, I could have taken Mary with me, not to mention enough jewelry to pawn and get me through until I found a job. Even if I had to be a damn stripper, it would be better than waiting around for Blake to lose his shit at me and, maybe, take it too far when he did.
The heavy bracelet shook against my wrist as I tucked my hands back inside my sleeping bag, and it was just another annoying reminder that I was a possession, caged and chained. I had the brief hope that this survival camp might actually teach me something useful, and then I could utilize those skills to best my brother.
Since I was warm enough now, thanks to some good Samaritan—my money was on Matthew, but I had a secret hope it was Dylan—I might even get a few hours of sleep. Shuffling as far as I could under the shelter, I was amazed at how much warmer I was with this extra blanket. Maybe come morning I’d figure out who had saved me, but for now, sleep.
The moment dawn arrived, a loud horn blasted through the clearing, and I groaned as my rough night caught up to me. My head pounded as I lifted it and peered around blearily to figure out what was happening. Immediately I noticed that the second sleeping bag was gone from me, but I still felt cozily warm since the temperature had leveled out. Not to mention there was now a roaring fire, three times the size of the one last night when we'd arrived.
Disappointment hit me; I had really hoped that I’d find out who’d given me the sleeping bag when they came to collect it this morning. I wanted it to have been Dylan.
I didn't want him to hate me.
Like I'd called him with that thought, he strode into sight, the soft light of the fire showcasing his flawless features. The glare he narrowed on all of us, and especially me, was not a good start to the day, and the odds of him not hating me were slowly dwindling with each second he stared me down.
"On your feet," he commanded, not shouting, because a man like Dylan didn't need to shout to capture attention. Whatever he wished happened, and the rest of us fell in line or got run the fuck over.
As the others dragged themselves up, groaning and bouncing around in the icy morning air, I wiggled out of my sleeping bag, thankful that the snow had stopped. At least for now. The dark clouds hanging in the distance were ominous, but as long as they held out until we got to wherever we were going, I wouldn't complain.
“Last night while you slept, the fire dwindled down to almost nothing,” Dylan said when everyone was on their feet. “Not one of you woke to check on it, top up the logs, or even worry about the chance of attack.”
He strode closer, towering over everyone in the clearing. “I could have killed every single one of you in your sleep.”
A shiver traced along my spine, unease settling in my stomach. Even I had missed someone dropping a blanket on me, and that pissed me off since I was fairly proud of my ability to sleep with one eye open. Blake hadn’t gotten the drop on me in at least three years, but that streak had now been broken by some stranger.
I had to be better tonight.
"Not one of you thought to plan ahead," Dylan continued, starting to pace like a drill sergeant while his staff stood in a uniform line behind him. "Not one of you even considered the need to rotate shifts to keep watch. If this had been a hostile situation, you'd all be nothing but blood smears on the dirt right now."
His sharp green gaze locked on every single camper, one by one, staring them down, and then finally came to rest on me. My stomach flipped, but for the first time around Dylan Grant... it was in fear. This wasn't the man I'd first gotten drunk with eight months ago. The man who'd kissed me senseless in the back of his limo, then worshiped my body until dawn.
The man staring at me from across the campsite was goddamn terrifying.
"Pathetic,
" he spat. It was for the whole group, but I couldn't help flinching like it was aimed specifically at me. I wasn't stupid enough to think Matthew hadn't filled him in on my profile. Name. Age. Not that it really mattered. I was eighteen and totally legal. Now, anyway. Then? Yeah, I can see how he might object to having fucked me when I was seventeen—exactly why I'd lied in the first place.
Dylan finally broke our stare-down with a glance at his heavy, black watch. "You've got two hours to find your way back to the cabins. Anyone who doesn't make it to the mess hall in time gets sent home. I don't give a fuck how much your daddies paid to send you here, I won't waste my time or resources on lost causes." Another sharp glare went my direction, and the other guys noticed.
My neck burned with a blush as they side-eyed me and snickered. Clearly, they all thought I was going home today. Well, I'd simply have to prove them wrong.
Somehow.
"Well?" Dylan roared. "What the fuck are you waiting for?"
The guys around me scrambled for their shit, throwing their packs on and running out of the clearing. Ben caught my eye, though, and I paused before following my fellow campers. He tipped his head slightly toward the opposite side of the clearing. I frowned in the direction he was indicating, but... I had no freaking idea what he was trying to tell me.
"Are you waiting for one of us to show you the way, Lawson?" Dylan snapped.
I jumped and realized I was the only camper left. It was just me and the guides.
Blinking several times, I tried to find the right words for a snappy comeback. Sometimes I used to dream about being one of those ballsy, confident girls. Like Riley Duboise. She was the definition of a badass chick; it was no freaking wonder Dylan was so in love with her... even if she was his best friend's girl.
Me? I could barely even mumble an excuse as I headed in the direction Ben had indicated. He seemed nice and I wasn't dumb enough to think it was a simple case of returning the way we'd come up, so I was going to take a chance.