Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“He is manipulating us,” I hiss, looking around to make sure Joseph hasn’t followed us from the other room. I catch Jacob’s hand as he traces the scars of ‘Vanity’ carved below my collarbone next to the Eden’s Gate cross inked into the front of my left shoulder. “You can’t do this to people against their will,” I whisper, stepping closer to him. “I know you are good at it, but that doesn’t make it right.”

“We have to make sacrifices to save people,” he says, voice gruff.

“Sacrifice what? Our morality? I will not do what Joseph is asking,” I say, grabbing the front of Jacob’s army jacket desperately. “Turning people into mindless drones because they won’t listen to him is not what I created the Bliss to do, especially to people we claim to be our friends.”

“Baby, I can’t tell my brother no,” Jacob sighs. “We will do what we need to do. We need strong survivors. The weak who can’t provide something to our cause or who outright refuse to see reason do not deserve to enter into the fold. I hope Eli will see reason, but if he doesn’t—”

“You’ll cull the herd? Sacrifice that which isn’t worthy? All life has meaning,” I say, my hand instinctively going to my swollen belly as tears well up in my eyes. “The man I married wouldn’t kill so recklessly,” I say. After a moment, I finally come to a decision. One I have spent weeks pondering. “I can’t do this. I believe in Joseph’s Word, but I can’t force others to believe in it.” I take a deep breath. “And I won’t raise a child in this violence. I know how to survive.”

Jacob hesitates, brows furrowing. “What are you saying, Evie?” he asks, following me as I retreat backward, his hand reaching for his unborn child.

Tears spill down my face. “I want out,” I say, bumping against the door frame as his hand finds my stomach. His touch is gentle but claiming.

Jacob looks up, and my heart starts racing as Joseph approaches. “What was that?” Joseph asks in that too calm voice of his. The scars and tattoos on his body are on full display on his bare torso. The fresh tattoos of twin sparrows on either side of his collarbone are red and inflamed, freshly marked into his skin by John.

I stare into Jacob’s eyes and take a deep breath. I lift my chin and turn to face Joseph. “Find yourself another Faith. I’m not turning people into zombie slave labor.”

“You will not do what needs to be done to prepare our family for the Collapse?” he asks, tilting his head in question. “Those who refuse to see the light can still be useful.”

I shake my head. “Not like this. This isn’t the right way,” I say. “I’m sorry.” Jacob stands frozen in shock as I push past Joseph, ignoring John’s questioning gaze.

“Do you not believe in God?” Joseph asks. I stop at the door of the ranch house.

“I believe in what’s coming, but I guess I don’t have the faith to carry out what you are asking me to do,” I say as something breaks in me. “This isn’t God’s way. It’s yours.”

“Evie!” Jacob calls, but I don’t stop. I slip into the driver’s seat of Jacob’s truck, catching sight of Joseph holding him at bay with both hands on his shoulders as he speaks quickly.

Jacob looks over Joseph’s shoulder to meet my gaze one more time, but he doesn’t come to me. Despite everything we have been through, he chooses Joseph. I pull out of the driveway, never looking back.

Chapter Text

Three Years Later

“You want to what?” I ask Marshal Cameron Burke, the two of us standing toe-to-toe in Sheriff Earl Whitehorse’s office.

“You heard me. I’ve got a warrant for Joseph Seed, and you’re going to help bring him in,” Burke says, seemingly exhausted by my questions. “Now, back up, Rookie.”

The Marshal doesn’t know me, but Whitehorse does—to an extent. Our gazes lock over the Marshal’s shoulder.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea, sir,” I say, trying to keep the patronizing tone in my voice at bay, but I do take a step backward. I couldn’t stand this man the moment he walked in the door, let alone once he started trying to order us around.

“Good idea or not, this son-of-a-bitch is going down. Now, get ready. We leave in ten minutes,” Burke says, leaving the office. “Don’t make me report you for insubordination.”

I restrain the growl building in my throat and pull at the collar of my Sheriff’s Deputy uniform. I am suffocating under the high-necked clothing that covers the scars and tattoos that not even the Sheriff knows about.

“I’m sorry, Rook, but we need all hands on deck if Burke is going to go through with this,” Whitehorse says, stepping forward to place a hand on my shoulder. “It’s been three years. Maybe they won’t remember you,” he adds. “And you haven’t really gone anywhere in the month you’ve been back from Missoula. It isn’t like anyone who knows you realizes you are in town. Hell, I don’t even remember you from before. You were like a phantom.”

The few times I have been to town, I’ve kept a hat pulled down low, even at the bar, but I haven’t been in the field. I specifically asked for desk duty until I could get the nerve to show my face in town.

But to carry out a warrant? They will definitely know who I am if we get that up close and personal. Since leaving Jacob, my hair has grown out to my waist, and I’ve kept the natural strawberry blonde hair dyed and braided into an unnaturally colored dark cherry rope. Not to mention, I’ve lost a few pounds. I’m not that recognizable, but my family will know who I am.

“Sheriff,” I say. “I wasn’t just in Eden’s Gate. It’s not like I can just slip by,” I sigh. “I made it a point to stay out of the eyes of the law. But no one who really knew me is going to have forgotten who I am,” I say, trying to bring myself to tell him more than the feeble ‘I was in a cult once upon a time’ story. He should know we are walking into the lion’s den, and I was a lioness.

“What do you mean, Rook?” Whitehorse asks.

I grit my teeth and lower my voice. “I’m a fucking founder.”

Whitehorse pulls back, looking at me with wide eyes. “What do you—”

“I mean, I was there from the beginning, and I am still legally the sister-in-law of Joseph fucking Seed. I moved here from Georgia with them.”

“Sister-in-law?” he asks, looking me over. “You married to John?” he asks with a raised brow.

I bark out a laugh. “He wishes,” I say, composing myself.

The shock on Whitehorse’s face is almost comical. “Jesus Christ, Evie. You married Jacob? The oldest brother? Ain’t he a little old for you? And your last name is Ford.”

“I’m older than I look—older than John, anyway. And that’s my maiden name,” I say. “But yeah, Jacob got himself a younger one with me. I didn’t have to give you my life story in a resume,” I say. Or in a background check that has been scrubbed and replaced with false dates. “That being said, anyone who has been in town or with the Project for more than three years will recognize me eventually, and I’m not ready for that yet. I knew it would happen, but I didn’t want it to be like this.”

“Let’s go!” Burke yells down the hallway, cutting off Whitehorse’s wide-eyed response.

“Fuck,” I groan. Whitehorse starts to urge me out into the hall. “Do you have an extra hat? Mine’s in my truck,” I ask quietly. I should have moved back to Georgia and been done with this place.

“Uh, yeah. Here, kid,” he says, handing me the black cowboy hat from the top shelf behind his desk.

“Thanks,” I say, placing it on my head and tilting the front down to hide my face as much as possible. “And I’m thirty-six, not a kid.”

“To me, you are,” he says with a grin. “Now, let’s go before Burke loses his mind. I might still be able to talk him out of this, and we can avoid all the weirdness.”

“Don’t tell anyone, please,” I whisper as we walk down the hall. “I left on my own accord. People are fine with rehabilitated ex-Peggies, but I’m a different story.”

“Your secret is safe with me, as long as it doesn’t cause any trouble,” Whitehorse whispers back. “Nancy, hold down the fort,” he tells the older woman behind the desk.

“As always,” Nancy says with a smile. Her eyes linger on me as they tend to do before she goes back to her paperwork.

“I don’t think she likes me,” I say as we exit the Sheriff’s Department and walk onto the helicopter pad. Hudson is giving it a final check while Burke impatiently taps his foot.

“She’ll warm up to you eventually,” Whitehorse says.

“Maybe,” I mutter. Or she secretly knows who I am. She has lived in Hope County her entire life, but I’ve never interacted with her before joining the force.

“I want a hat,” Pratt pouts, flicking the brim of the one on my head.

I shove him playfully in the shoulder, but Whitehorse grunts at us to stop before I can be the smartass I am. Pratt and I have raised more hell in the past month than I think the Sheriff thought was possible. He probably wouldn’t have hired me if he knew we would start doing pranks to lighten the mood when shit got rough.

“You know,” Burke says as we congregate at the helicopter. “Hand tattoos are not becoming of a Sheriff’s Deputy.” He looks pointedly at me.

My nostrils flare as I pull a pair of black gloves from my back pocket, waving them only far enough away from his nose that it isn’t completely disrespectful. “Don’t go in the field without them, sir. But they get hot in the office,” I say, pulling the skin-tight leather gloves on, covering the multitude of tattoos on my fingers and the backs of my hands. My tattoos aren’t all centered on Eden’s Gate, but John did most of them while Jacob complained the entire time—until they were the only thing I had on. John does good work. Good, free tattoos are hard to come by. It’s one of the things I miss.

Don’t start thinking about that now.

I pull myself from my thoughts and climb into my seat. We lift off, and Burke hands me a phone. “Hit play,” he orders.

I sigh, doing as he says as I try not to roll my eyes. I watch in stoic silence, but a shiver runs through me as Joseph gouges out a man’s eyes.

What the actual fuck?

I can feel Burke and Whitehorse watching me as I hand the phone back, but I don’t meet their eyes. Burke takes it and starts rambling, but Whitehorse watches me a moment longer before turning back to try to talk the Marshal out of following through with the plan.

I tune out their voices, my attention on the huge statue of my brother-in-law in the Henbane. My Henbane.

No, not anymore.

I might have seen the monstrosity before now if I dared to venture back into my region, but I relegated myself to Fall’s End, where booze is cheap and no one asks questions if you keep to yourself.

It’s even worse than John’s ‘Yes’ sign.

Hudson and Pratt make their own comments as I swallow bile down, trying to figure out how so much could have happened since I left. But Joseph’s compound comes into view a few moments later, with more buildings than I remember surrounding his church, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Set her down,” Whitehorse says through gritted teeth. “Let me do the talking, understand?”

We all nod. I hop out of the helicopter, booted feet hitting familiar, hard-packed earth. Part of me feels like I’m going home—the other feels as though I’m walking to my death. I tilt my hat further down in front of my face and follow behind our little group.

Members straighten as we walk by, either showing off their weapons or leaning to talk to their neighbor. I watch them out of the corner of my eye, recognizing a few, but many must have joined since I left. I accidentally lock eyes with a somewhat familiar woman, and her eyes widen. I shake my head once, and she shuts her mouth before she says anything to the man beside her.

Shit, maybe I still have some authority—or they don’t know the truth.

I can feel her eyes following me down the path to the church. I can’t remember who she is to save my life, but she knows me.

“You’re gonna get your name in the paper, Sheriff,” Burke tells Whitehorse. I roll my eyes, giving Hudson a pointed look.

“Be careful in there,” Hudson mutters, posting guard with her shotgun.

I nod, lowering my head. We enter the church as Joseph preaches about locusts in the garden. Us. I know this sermon. Or a form of it.

Burke interrupts him as we come to a stop at the altar. I keep my head down, not wanting to see the family I abandoned. “Joseph Seed, I have a warrant for your arrest for kidnapping and intent to harm.”

Joseph preaches louder as the Peggies start getting worked up. I tense as Whitehorse starts yelling, “Stand down!” Burke’s fingers are wrapped around his pistol, and I can only pray he keeps it holstered.

Seconds before shit hits the fan, Joseph deftly defuses the situation, sending them away. “And I saw a white horse,” Joseph continues with his sermon, sending a shiver down my spine. “And hell followed it.”

At his words, I can’t stop myself from looking up and meeting his eyes. For a moment, Joseph freezes, and then a grim smirk spreads across his lips. His gaze pierces me like a blade, but I hold onto the stoic façade I have perfected over the years.

He seems to accept something and offers me his wrists. “God won’t let you take me,” he whispers.

I keep my head tilted so that only Joseph can see me—not Jacob, John, or the unfamiliar woman they call Faith in the dress Joseph tried so hard to get me to wear. I watch their feet as they come together to stand behind him. I hesitate under Joseph’s gaze, years of knowing him and his ‘prophecies’ not making this moment any easier.

I still believe him.

“Deputy, cuff this son-of-a-bitch,” Burke orders. I grit my teeth, fingers tightening around the cuffs hanging from my belt.

I hold Joseph’s gaze, flexing my jaw—Whitehorse shifts uncomfortably beside me, reading the room a hell of a lot better than Burke. “You can walk away,” Joseph whispers. The small smirk on his face says ‘again.’

“Cuff him!” Burke almost yells.

I pull the cuffs from my belt, snapping them onto Joseph’s wrists out of spite. He pulls me a small step toward him, just enough for me to feel it, but no one else notices. “Sometimes, the best thing to do is walk away,” he whispers. His voice sends a shiver down my spine. My heart tells me I have made a grave mistake, but my pride won’t let me back down.

I ignore the unconscious acknowledgment of my most profound sin carved into my forearm. “Not this time,” I say, lifting my head enough to find Jacob’s eyes.

Jacob stiffens, but holds himself together as our eyes meet—for the most part. Only I can read the storm raging in his eyes. John’s eyes widen with something that looks a lot like glee, his eyes flicking between us. The woman, Faith, looks confused.

She doesn’t know who I am.

I pull Joseph forward and step behind him, guiding him out of the church without a second glance behind me. I keep my head lowered as we return to the helicopter, ignoring the shouts and exclamations along the way.

We load up, and all hell breaks loose. Joseph begins singing Amazing Grace as Peggies throw themselves at the chopper. The familiar woman from earlier launches herself at Burke, grabbing his arm. We lift off, and he fires a shot into her chest before she can attempt to pull him out.

I gasp, watching her body fall as I try to remember who she is. Failing, I grind my teeth together and turn to find Joseph watching me, still singing. He smiles and leans his head back as alarms start blaring and we spin out of control.

My last thought before we crash is, God, not again.

Chapter Text

The world comes into view at the wrong angle. Blinking the blurriness from my vision, I find my world upside down—literally. My seatbelt is the only thing holding me in place. Hudson, Pratt, Burke, and Whitehorse dangle around me, unconscious. And Joseph is gone.

The helicopter’s headset dangles in front of my face. I reach for it, trying to catch it as it swings, but my depth perception is off as blood rushes to my head.

Joseph suddenly appears in front of me with a smile. “I told you God wouldn’t let you take me. You should have more faith in my words, Faith.” He grabs the headset. “Dispatch?” he asks.

“Oh, God,” Nancy answers.

“Everything is fine here,” Joseph says, holding me in his gaze. “No need for backup.”

“Yes, Father. Praise be to you,” she says, and my stomach drops. I never even guessed that. She must have joined after I left.

Joseph leans in close, watching me through the cracked lens of his yellow aviators. “No one is coming to save you. You left us. We owe you nothing.” He runs his hand gently down my braid, long enough to almost brush the roof of the helicopter. “You can’t get away from him, can you?”

He doesn’t have to say who. The red reminds me of what I left behind, but I’m not about to admit that to Joseph. He grins knowingly and crawls out of the helicopter as Hudson begins to wake up. He jumps onto the hood of a truck, spouting on about the first seal being broken and the Reaping. Goosebumps cover my skin as I realize I am the Harbinger of the Collapse.

How fucking ironic.

Peggies descend on the helicopter, pulling Hudson, Pratt, and Whitehorse from the wreckage, kicking and screaming. I reach for Hudson’s boot, but flames engulf the remains of the helicopter. I pull back with a hiss of pain. Anxiety spikes, and I cough as the heat of the inferno enters my lungs. Burke yells something, unbuckling himself. He hits the ground.

Our eyes meet. “Don’t leave me here!” I beg, fighting to release the seat belt around my waist.

He shakes his head as the flames flare between us. “I’m sorry,” he says, and takes off running into the forest.

“Wait!” I plead, my hand reaching out as if I could grab him and pull him back. Gunshots follow him, chasing him deeper into the forest. “Argh!” I scream with desperation, yanking at the seatbelt. I look up, finding Joseph’s eyes. They are frenzied, watching me through the flames. “Help me!” I cry.

A handful of John's Chosen, to their credit, begin looking for a way to get me out, but Joseph shocks me by saying. “Let her burn!”

“NO!” My scream rips through my throat. I shove my thumb painfully in the buckle, breaking my nails as I claw at it, and it finally releases. I fall in a heap onto the roof with a grunt and take off running through the momentary break in the flames.

“She is getting away!” voices cry.

I yelp in pain as a bullet rips through my side, sending me stumbling into the woods. I run for my life, but the gunfire stops at Joseph’s request. Blood blackens my dark green shirt and coats the leather of my glove as I try to stem the bleeding. I stagger through the woods, trying to focus on staying upright and breathing through my nose.

Between the PTSD from a flaming helicopter in the Iraqi desert and the pain in my side, I feel like I am going to pass out. It’s all I can do to breathe through the panic attack trying to take hold of me.

It's not the same. Not the same. You'll be okay. If only I believed in my own words. It's all the same—chased through enemy territory, injured and desperate. Stop thinking about it.

Following the creek bed, I come across two Peggies around a campfire, and muscle memory takes over. They are unfamiliar to me, so in my desperation, snapping the neck of the one playing the guitar and shooting the other with his gun doesn’t affect me as much as it should. The radio beside the fire crackles to life, and I hear Burke’s voice ushering me to a trailer not far off.

Fucking idiot.

I know exactly where the trailer he speaks of is, and I head there immediately, hopefully before anyone else figures out where he is talking about. Everyone will have heard his transmission. I’m half-tempted to beat the bastard for leaving me in a burning helicopter and being a dumbass, but I’m losing blood, and I need help.

I slowly enter the trailer and shut the door behind me, crying in pain as Burke forcefully pins me to the wall. “Fuck off, man. It’s me!” I whisper-yell, trying to push him off. I grab him with both hands, leaving a bloody trail down his arms that he shrinks away from.

“You good?” he asks.

“No thanks to you, asshole,” I say, putting pressure back on my side with a groan. “And they fucking shot me.” I bat his hand away as he attempts to see the damage. “Get bent. I’ll be fine. Maybe. What are we doing?” I ask, waiting to see if he has a plan. Turns out he does. And it isn’t a bad one if we can pull it off. But it doesn’t make me hate him any less.

“How can we stop the bleeding?” he asks, finally realizing I’m in a state.

I look up at him and glare. I unbutton my shirt and shrug it off, leaving me in a black tank top that reveals all the scars and tattoos on my chest and arms. Burke inhales, taking a step backward as his eyes fall on the cross. “Are you—?”

I shake my head as I tie my shirt as tightly around my side as I can. “Not anymore. There is a fucking reason I didn’t want to come here.” I shove past him, looking for guns and ignoring the family portrait that Burke pulls off the wall that doesn’t include me. I push aside all the feelings it brings up and focus on the task at hand.

“I knew what we were talking into, and you wouldn’t listen. Earl knew, too. Now, where are we at? Up shit creek. And your stupid ass has called them directly to us with that fucking radio call,” I say, shoving a pistol and a set of truck keys into his chest. “I’ll cover you. Get the truck ready and wait for me.” I load the Carbine rifle and catch Burke in my gaze. “And I swear to God, if you fucking leave me again, I will kill you.”

“You can’t say that to me!” he exclaims, checking his pistol and preparing to run into the mass of Peggies making their way from the trees.

“I really don’t care,” I say. “Now, go.” I push him out of the door with a booted foot and let adrenaline and instinct take over.

Having served as an Infantry Marine in more than one tour in the Middle East and been married to Jacob for as long as I have, the firefight getting to the truck is a piece of cake. For a split second, as I open the door, I think Burke is going to speed off, but he catches the glare I send his way and controls his foot.

Burke’s shit driving makes hitting anything in the ensuing chase a fucking miracle, but I manage to keep the Peggies off our backs. It’s John’s planes that I can’t handle. Not with the shit gear I have.

The bridge goes, sending us into the Henbane. I manage to stop screaming long enough to catch a breath as we hit the water, and I’m consumed by one of my worst nightmares. My only solace is that the window is already open as Burke leaves me behind again.

I’m going to kill that cowardly bastard—if I survive this.

My head breaks through the water’s surface. I gasp, trying to swim to shore, but I keep blacking out. Someone grabs me by the back of my tank top and bra strap, pulling me to shore. Burke’s shrieking, “I’m a federal Marshal!” in the distance, and I’m kind of glad he didn’t pull me with him. I’m still going to kill him, even if it’s only one hand on me, and it’s somewhat gentle.

I blearily look up into the night sky, finding vaguely familiar, clear blue eyes filled with concern, and black out.

Chapter Text

The pain in my wrists brings me back to consciousness. I lift my head, neck stiff from hanging at an awkward angle. My wrists hold me upright, tied to a bedpost with a large zip tie. I pull against it, but it doesn’t budge. Not that I thought it would, but it’s worth a try.

I look around, blinking to focus. An older man turns to me at the sound of movement, fixing his cold, light blue eyes on me with indignation.

Aww, fuck.

“Do you know what this means?” Dutch Roosevelt asks, motioning toward the radio as the excited voices of Peggies rave about the Reaping and broken seals on the radio.

Anyone else would say no, but he and I both know that I know. “The Collapse is near,” I say quietly.

“Or so you freaks believe,” he says. “Where the hell have you been?” he asks, looking me over. “Jacob went crazy when you disappeared.”

I grit my teeth. The crazy old man always hated us. Always tried to save me. “I left,” I hiss.

“I figured that much, but now you are back,” he states. “Why?”

“Not my choice. Fucking feds,” I groan, leaning my forehead against the bedpost. “Are you going to let me bleed out, or what’s happening?” I ask. “I don’t know how deep this bullet went.”

Dutch sighs, squatting down beside me. “The smartest thing I could do would be to hand you over,” he says. My heart jumps into my throat, and I look up at him. “But I think there are better ways to deal with things.” He stands, and I shrink away as he pulls a large folding knife from his pocket.

I’m almost positive he is about to slit my throat with it, but he cuts the tie around my wrists instead. I let out a shaky sigh. My side aches, but I’m not dead yet, so that’s good. I need to clean it, though. River water isn’t good for wounds.

He seems to be thinking the same thing, but asks, “You remember me?” with a raised brow.

“How could I forget your crazy ass, Dutch?” I ask, making him smile for a split second. “Not many old guys harassed me at the bar while Jacob was around.”

He shrugs, a smug smirk on his thin lips. “I need to patch you up before we start talking about burning Eden’s Gate to the ground,” he says, pulling a large first aid kit from under the bed. “Get on the bed.”

“Oh, demanding,” I say with a half-hearted smirk.

Dutch rolls his eyes, but I know he is just as good at hiding shit as I am. “I am too damn old to want anything from you. Don’t make this weird,” Dutch grumbles.

I stumble as I stand, but manage to crawl my way onto the bed. I collapse with a groan of pain and pull up the hem of my shirt, revealing the rather shallow bullet wound that ripped my side open and a handful of more tattoos and scars. I watch his eyes find the scar of ‘Lust’ carved directly above my hipbone, but he blessedly doesn’t say anything.

“How long has it been?” he asks.

“Three years,” I mutter. It feels like both yesterday and a lifetime ago.

He nods, studying my wound, and shrugs. “It isn’t as bad as I thought from all the blood. In and out. Easiest to deal with.” He lifts a bottle of vodka from the shelf by the bed. “This will sting,” he says, pouring a shot or two worth onto the wound without waiting for a response.

“Shit!” I hiss, gripping the bed sheets to stay still so he can work. It isn’t the worst pain I have felt, but it isn’t welcome.

“Shit started going tits up about three years ago. Got a new cute little blonde running the Henbane. That your fault?” he asks.

I perk up, catching his gaze. “If you are about to try and blame me for the crazy shit that has happened since I left, I left because I didn’t want to do what that bitch is doing. I refused.”

Dutch’s touch is a little harder than necessary as he presses against my wound. “But you still set the foundation. Then left without trying to prevent the chaos that ensued.”

I cry out as he jabs a needle into my side. “This isn’t my fault,” I hiss.

“Isn’t it?” His touch lightens as he stitches the wound closed.

“I left because I didn’t agree with the methods. Isn’t that enough?” I ask, as he finishes up and urges me to roll over so he can sew the exit wound shut. “Fucking hell, Dutch,” I growl.

He answers by dumping another shot of vodka onto the wound. I bite the pillow and stop talking as he pierces my skin with a needle. I know he hates me. And yet he wants my help to raise hell. Because I’m a traitor? Not by definition. Deserter, maybe. But ‘traitor’ might keep me alive longer with the resistance.

And hell followed…

“If you want to help, it would be ironic as shit to have Faith Seed burn the motherfucker to the ground,” Dutch says, focusing on his work.

“Call me Evie,” I say, fisting the sheets of the bed as he finishes the stitches up. “According to Joseph, I lost my faith. It doesn’t matter if it’s actually my name or not. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Does anyone completely lose their faith?” he asks. A shock goes through me, and I refuse to answer that question. “Done. Change into some dry clothes and meet me in the radio room, if you are ready to raise some hell.”

Chapter Text

TWO MONTHS LATER

“I don’t want you out there!” Eli says for what feels like the hundredth time, his eyes narrowed sternly at me.

I glare back. “I can’t sit cooped up in here doing nothing, dammit!” I say, louder than necessary. My voice echoes off the metal of the bunker, and Wheaty shifts uncomfortably behind me as he tinkers with a radio.

“We just want to keep you safe,” Wheaty interjects quietly. “Other than Eli, you are Jacob’s main target, for whatever reason. We can’t afford to lose you.”

If Eli wasn’t the only one to know the truth, everything would be so much easier.

I turn to Wheaty. “Shit doesn’t get done if I’m not out there,” I say. It isn’t a pompous remark. Everyone knows it’s true.

Eli places a hand on my shoulder, and I refrain from pulling away from him and look him in the eye with a raised brow. “I need to speak with Evie alone. Give us a minute?” he asks Wheaty. “You too, Tammy. We won’t be long.”

Tammy sighs, retreating into her makeshift torture room, and Wheaty mumbles something about being hungry. I huff, sliding my ass up to sit on Eli’s desk, pushing his maps out of my way. I brace myself with my hands planted on either side of my thighs as I glare at him. He grins under his bushy beard, stepping up to stand between my legs. I narrow my eyes at him.

“Don’t try to butter me up now,” I growl. “I’m tired of having this same conversation. I haven’t seen the sun in two weeks because of you assholes.”

Eli ignores the dig. “And Jacob hasn’t gotten his hands on you either, so you’re welcome,” Eli says, looking down to study the ‘Vanity’ scar on my chest.

“My eyes are up here,” I say quietly. It never gets any easier when people study the marks on my body. It’s even worse when they remember me from before.

“I’m just still trying to figure out why,” he says, finding my eyes after a moment of lingering on the cross tattoo.

“Atonement should be done willingly,” I whisper, looking away from Eli as I study the walls.

“And was yours—willingly?” he asks, hesitating, as if it is such a horrendous thing.

“Yes,” I say, knowing he won’t understand. I look back at him and watch his teeth grind. Then, I meet his eyes. They are conflicted.

“I can handle myself,” I tell him, clenching my fists at my side. Ever since Dutch pulled my ass from the Henbane, realized who I was, and shipped me up north as fast as he could, Eli hasn’t wanted to let me out of his sight. I knew him for years before I left, back when he and Jacob were close. The bromance fallout of the century happened not long after I left.

Maybe I could have stopped it. Then again, I think Eli was hanging around for more than Jacob’s company. Possibly even willing to raise a kid that wasn’t his. But I’ll never ask. It doesn’t matter anymore.

Eli leans in, and I turn my head. His lips brush my ear, and I try not to shiver. It isn’t that I don’t find him attractive, but I can’t bring myself to move on, no matter what crazy shit has happened. “I’m a grown ass woman. I will do what I want,” I say as his hand creeps up to my chin. “And I’ve already told you no.”

“I know you will, but you know how I feel,” he says, pulling away a few inches, longing clear in his eyes.

I turn to look at him, pulling back slightly as I realize how close he really is. The warmth of his breath sends a flush of heat through my body that I ignore. “I can’t do this with you,” I whisper.

“Because you still love Jacob?” I stay silent, watching Eli a moment before he adds, “I don’t understand how.” He looks down at the Eden’s Gate cross on my shoulder again.

“We were together entirely too long for me to forget what he means to me,” I say. “No matter what bad choices he has made, nearly fifteen years is a long time.”

Eli sighs, leaning his forehead against mine, and it isn’t entirely unwelcome. “I’ll be here when you change your mind.”

“I won’t,” I whisper.

Our attention turns to Tammy’s room as a scream of pain echoes through the door. She steps out a few moments later with a smile on her face.

“Squealed like a pig,” she says happily, handing Eli a piece of paper as he steps away from me. “Coordinates and a radio signal,” she adds, giving me a side eye.

I grit my teeth at her protection of Eli. If only he felt the same way about her, my life would be easier. I’ve already told her I don’t want him, but neither of them can accept that fact.

“Hell, yeah. Great job,” he says, taking the information from her and turning to his station. He tunes in the information, but my radio crackles to life before he gets a good signal.

Dutch’s voice cuts through the Wolf’s Den. “Evie, you there?”

“I’ll be back,” I say, stepping into the other room. “Yeah, I’m here. What’s up?”

“It’s Jess,” he says, and my heart stutters. “I haven’t spoken to her in days.”

“You know where she could be?” I ask, already heading to my room to pack a bag. Eli can’t keep me here if my friend is in trouble.

“She went down to help Mary May in Holland Valley a week ago. Went out scouting John’s ranch house at one point, and I haven’t heard anything else since then,” Dutch says in a worried voice.

“You don’t think John got her, do you?” I ask, pulling the drawstring closed on my backpack and slinging it over my shoulders.

“God, I hope not,” Dutch says. “I’ll kill that son-of-a-bitch myself.” A wave of protectiveness washes through me, but it isn’t for Jess. I shrug away the feeling.

“I’ll head down as soon as I can. But you gotta talk your boy down,” I say, glancing toward Eli in the other room. “We just got through fighting about my going out not five minutes before your transmission came through.”

“I’ll handle it. We need you out there. Given the chance, you and Jess could take these Peggie fucks out in a week without them even knowing,” Dutch says with a short chuckle.

My laugh cuts short as Eli appears in front of me. If looks could kill. I hold down the talk button on my radio but address Eli. “Dutch wants to speak with you.”

He yanks the radio out of my hand and scowls when he realizes I had the button depressed so Dutch could hear me. “Old man, I already told you she doesn’t need to be out there,” Eli nearly growls into the radio as he gazes at me.

Eli tries, but there is only one voice and glare that could make me actually listen.

And you left him.

I clench my fists, shutting the thought off, but relax a little as Dutch speaks. “Don’t ‘old man’ me, boy. Jess is missing, and Evie is the only one I trust to not get herself killed out there looking for her,” Dutch says.

My pride swells, and I put a hand on my hip, silently chastising Eli the same way Tammy does when she is pissed. Wheaty has given up, kicking back in his chair with his hands behind his head, a resigned look on his face. I make eye contact, and he shakes his head. But there is a slight smile on his lips as he pulls his cap over his eyes, blocking us all out.

“But what about Jacob? He has had hunters out in droves trying to get his hands on her,” Eli says, thankfully not going into detail. Only Dutch and Eli really know who I am—other than Earl, wherever he is. Eli’s eyes are pleading with me as he speaks to Dutch. I stare blankly back.

Dutch says, “She is going to Holland Valley,” as I say, “I’m going south.” Eli seems to think this is an even worse idea.

“I can’t keep an eye on her down there!” he says into the radio and to me.

“You are going to have to get over that shit. Let the woman work. She is good at what she does,” Dutch says. “You of all people should know that she is better trained than any of the people you can spare.” My breath hitches, hoping no one asks questions.

Tammy drags a body bag out of her room, catching the end of the conversation. When Eli doesn’t answer, she shrugs. “Damned if you do. Damned if you don’t. You know she will just sneak out later, and then, you will spend days worrying about her until she finally answers the damn radio.”

I gape open-mouthed at her, but she gives me that motherly ‘shut the fuck up, you know I’m right’ look.

“When can she head out?” Dutch asks.

Eli sighs. “Now, I guess. She is already packed.”

“Good. I’ll keep you updated—I know she won’t. Dutch out.”

I stare at the radio with a huff. But he is right. I keep the radio off when I’m in the shit, and I don’t make it a thing to update every time I take a shit. I take the radio from Eli, turn the volume down, and hook it onto my belt opposite the pistol Dutch gave me.

“I don’t know how you always manage to get your way, but I swear to God, if something happens to you—” Eli threatens.

“You’ll get over it knowing I took out every Peggie motherfucker in the vicinity with me,” I say, patting his shoulder. “I’m not your problem, not should I be your worry,” I whisper. “I can take care of myself.”

Eli grabs me by the wrist. “Maybe so, but I’m serious. Please, be careful.”

I frown at the sincerity in his voice. He really does care. And it rubs me the wrong way. “I’ll be back before you know it,” I say, gently extricating myself from his grasp.

Wheaty, despite the small smile at my rebellion earlier, is super salty and just gives me a single wave, never coming out from under his cap. Tammy smiles sadly at me. “Be careful,” she says. She has always been the wariest about me, but for some reason, she sounds the sincerest.

“Always,” I say, and leave before anyone can try to talk me into staying.

Carl sits up behind the shop counter, brow raised. “Eli finally letting you out?” he asks.

I laugh, but there is no feeling in it. “He didn’t have much choice. Dutch called.”

“Ah, well uh. Here,” he says, sliding my bow and an extra set of arrows across the counter. “I got it restrung and cleaned the blood out of the gears. You owe me a drink,” he says with a chuckle.

“I owe you more than a drink for all the ammo you slide my way, but I’ll start with the drink when I get back. And maybe I can find one of those fancy lighters you keep talking about while I’m out,” I say with a smile.

“I’m not that worried about it. Just come back safe, and I’ll be happy,” Carl says, sliding a box of pistol ammo my way before I walk out.

“You are too good to me, Carl,” I say, pocketing the ammo in one of the many pockets of my black cargo pants.

“I like to take care of my ladies. Eli can handle himself,” he chuckles. “Oh, and the temperature is probably gonna drop. That tank top isn’t gonna do you much. Here.” He tosses me a black and white insulated plaid jacket. Not too thick, but it’ll keep me warm. I don’t miss his eyes lingering on my scars, but I let it go.

“I’m going down to Holland Valley, so it won’t be too bad, but thanks,” I say, wrapping it around my waist.

“Anytime, Evie,” Carl says with a salute, and I exit the den with a breath of fresh air. Winter is coming, but so far, Autumn is nice and crisp. I relish the feeling on my skin as I disappear into the mountain forest.

Chapter Text

“I don’t see any sign of Jess around the ranch,” I whisper into my radio. I have it turned almost all the way down, but Dutch’s cursing has me covering the speaker up with my chest as I perch on a hill overlooking John Seed’s ranch house—the same one I stormed out of years ago. Everything looks the same—on the outside.

I can still feel the softness of the sheets on my bed in a generously sized room on the second floor. Surely that other woman has taken over now. What a shame. It was one of my favorite places. John spared no expense on bedding, the softness against my naked body I have yet to replicate.

“Why would she be down this far south?” I ask once Dutch shuts up.

“Something about trying to get Nick Rye’s plane back,” he says.

I zoom my binoculars in toward the hangar. “From my position, the hangar looks empty. Did you talk to Nick before you sent me all the way down here?” I ask. “This place is swarming with Peggies, like someone already stole John’s shit.”

There is a prolonged silence, and I sigh. The old man jumped to conclusions and immediately came asking me for help—again. Figures. I start inching back from my outlook, waiting for him to respond. I post up in a bush as he responds with, “Nick has his plane. No one has seen Jess since then, though, when she said she was going back to the mountains.”

“You could have saved me a lot of fucking time by checking with people before calling me in to fix shit,” I say, trying not to sound like a complete bitch. I wince at the volume of my voice.

There is another pause before Dutch says, “In my defense, now is the first time Nick has answered me. I thought everything had gone to shit down there, but apparently the Peggies are fucking with the radio signals again.”

“Aren’t they always? I’m not climbing another Goddamn tower, Dutch. I hate that shit. I nearly fell off the last one. I’m going back to the Wolf’s Den. I may want to be active, but I’m not going on pointless treks across the fucking county,” I grumble. Or climbing another radio tower.

“Understood,” Dutch says, and I hate the downtrodden tone in his voice. “I just want to find my niece.”

“I know. Me too. I’m sorry,” I say, unable to help myself. “I know the feeling of not knowing.”

“I know you do. Stop in at the Spread Eagle. Mary May and Jerome have some news on Deputy Hudson. And they miss you,” Dutch says.

My heart blazes with hope at the possibility of getting Joey out of John’s grasp. I could get her out easily, but I’m not willing to fuck John to do it. I will not be the reason Jacob decides to finally snap his neck. I’ll let John dig his own grave.

“Do I ever not stop in? Mary May gives me free booze,” I say with a chuckle to hide the dark places my thoughts are trying to go.

“Don’t get sloshed,” is the last thing Dutch says before he cuts out.

I clip my radio back on me and scoot out of the bush, only to come face to face with the barrel of a rifle. Fuck.

“Got some people been looking for you,” the Peggie says. He is dressed in the signature black coat of John’s Chosen.

I raise my hands, slowly standing. “I’m sure there are. I tend to piss you guys off when we cross paths.”

I scan the area, only finding the two of them that I can see. If this were the Whitetails, I would know more are hiding in the brush, but John’s Chosen aren’t quite as efficient as Jacob’s.

Only one holds a rifle on me. The other is looking around to see if I have any of my ‘followers’ with me. Not today, of all fucking days. What I wouldn’t give to watch Peaches sneak attack these sons-of-bitches and listen to them scream as she ripped them apart. I’d even hang around to let her eat their sorry asses.

“Easy now,” the Peggie with the rifle pointed at me says.

Standing up straight, I strike, pushing the barrel of the rifle away as I draw a throwing knife from the sheath on my thigh. I hit the other Peggie in the throat with the knife and, gripping the barrel of the rifle as the bastard holding it fires a shot, twist it out of the man’s hands and slam the butt of it into the side of his head.

Thanking God the rifle had a suppressor, I reach across to my left side, ignoring the searing heat in my grasp. I pull my hunting knife from its sheath and slit the man’s throat before he can yell out. I release the rifle and let it fall with its owner as I step back with a huff.

“Son-of-a-bitch,” I gasp, catching my breath. I lean down and wipe my knife clean on the dead Peggie’s shirt and put it back in its sheath. Hitching my bag back up onto my shoulder, I turn to head back north—slow clapping stops me in my tracks.

“For such a little thing, you have always been astonishing. Jacob would have been proud of that move,” John Seed’s snide voice says, cutting through the air. “I see how you have outrun his guys for so long. That was fascinating.”

I turn slowly and give a slight, patronizing bow to one of my once-favorite people. “All in a good day’s work,” I say with a smirk. My hand twitches toward my pistol, but John notices. He notices everything.

“Nuh-huh,” he says, waggling his finger at me.

I sense a presence behind me, but before I can turn back, a hand holding a rag clamps down over my mouth. I struggle against the man dosing me with a form of Bliss I am unaware of, and the world begins to sparkle. “I’m going to have a little fun, and then, I’ll let Jacob have you.”

I scream a muffled “No!” into the rag, bucking against my captor, but I’ve already inhaled enough. I am much too weak to get the upper hand on a full-grown man with this new Bliss in my system. John chuckles. The world starts fading, and my strength wanes to nothing.

“A show of good faith. Maybe we can reach that Atonement of yours after he is done with you,” he says. “The Father only knows how hard we will have to scrub the sin from your traitorous soul.”

I whimper, and everything goes black.

Chapter Text

Voices fade in and out as I slowly crawl back to consciousness through the fog of Bliss clouding my mind. It’s stronger than anything I ever made, and if I weren’t pissed about being drugged, I’d be impressed.

Yells and hurrahs, splashing of water, crying. John preaching. It all coalesces into a maddening cacophony. I open my eyes, my vision still on the sparkly side, but bearable. Night has fallen, lit up with vehicle headlights. I try to move, and rocks from the riverbed press painfully into my shoulder and side.

“She is awake. Take her to be cleansed,” someone says, and two sets of hands pull me to my feet. They drag me, dangling between them, toward the river.

“It looks like she has already Atoned,” a woman says. “All the scars—”

“She is a wayward soul. From before your time. She must repeat the process to be welcome back into the fold,” the man says matter-of-factly. I try to turn my head to look at him. His voice is familiar, but my head feels like a lead weight, and I am weak.

“Why would she be allowed back?” the woman asks. “Hasn’t she been destroying what we are working so hard to create?”

“She is Brother Jacob’s wife,” he says, and the woman gasps. “But keep that to yourself for the time being. She has done much for us. She deserves a second chance.”

I get my feet under me, but I am too weak to walk by myself yet, much less fight back. John stands waist-deep in the river, going on about the power of ‘Yes’ and Atonement. He has removed his jacket, and the blue silk of his partially buttoned shirt clings to his skin.

I barely get a breath before the two holding me dunk me under the water, holding me under for a few seconds before pulling me back up.

It isn’t the first time I’ve been baptized, but it is the first time I didn’t ask for it. Sparkles renewed, the world spins, but it isn’t strong enough to knock me back out. I can’t help the anger that rises at the thought of the Bliss being used in such a way, but it’s peaceful, and my anger doesn’t stay long. Maybe it does have a purpose here.

John hands his Book of Joseph off to an acolyte and wades over to me. The two Peggies holding me let me go, and John grabs me by the shoulders to steady me. “Go on,” he tells them. “This one isn’t clean yet.” I try to take a step back at his tone, but he holds me firm.

I yell out as he pounces, pushing me back underwater by my throat. With bound hands, I grab at his chest, trying to pull myself out of the water or take him down with me as I start to drown. He smiles down at me through the water, his blue eyes sparkling maliciously with years’ worth of pent-up anger toward me.

I don’t want his pretty, stupid face to be the last thing I ever see, but he is too strong, and I am too high. My fighting starts to dwindle, and he finally pulls me up, grinning like the Cheshire Cat as I cough and sputter for air, still clutching the front of his silk shirt for dear life.

I lean into him as my knees buckle. He holds me upright and close. “Mmm,” he purrs, caressing my cheek with a thumb. For a moment, I can see the Lust he has always held for me in his eyes as I look up at him, trying to push away. His hand moves slowly down my throat, tensing as he prepares to push me back down, but a voice stops him.

“Do you mock the cleansing, John?” Joseph asks calmly. I look over John’s shoulder as he turns to find Joseph watching from the riverbank, fully dressed in his Sunday best and stoic.

John shakes his head, lowering it in submission. “No, Joseph.” Joseph motions for me to be brought closer. John pulls me through the water, hoisting me up as my knees try to buckle again under the weight of water drenching my pants and pooling in my boots.

Joseph takes a step forward, and he is all I can see as he grips my shoulders tightly to keep me upright. “Sister, despite all that you have done, you are not beyond salvation. You’re not here by accident or by chance. You are here by the grace of God. You’ve been given a gift. Now it remains to be seen whether you choose to embrace it or cast it aside.” Joseph’s voice is soothing as always, and I want to believe him.

But he steps back to address John, and I begin shaking, swaying on the spot. Not from the cold or my wet clothes, but from the sight of Jacob in his Army jacket, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing the hard muscles and scars underneath. He leans back against a white truck with his arms crossed, staring straight at me and smiling like the devil himself.

We watch each other until Joseph leaves, and John steps in front of me, cutting my view of Jacob off. “Have fun with Jacob. Once he breaks you down, I’ll drag you kicking and screaming into your Atonement if it’s the last thing I do.” His voice is sharp, and I know whatever Joseph told him has cut him deep. “I’ll enjoy it either way.”

John shoves me toward Jacob. I stumble and fall to my knees at his feet. Jacob’s rumbling chuckle sounds over me, and he kneels beside me. “Did you think you could run forever?” he asks in that low voice that taunts me over the radio almost daily. I’ve never answered, even though part of me wants to, but he is insistent.

A spark of resistance flutters to life in my chest, and I look up to meet his eyes, trying not to melt into them. “I figured it was worth a try,” I say sarcastically. “Took out enough of your men in the last two months, didn’t I?”

He grins like a wolf. “Oh, you sure did, my little Hellcat, but I’ll tame you soon enough. Not sure where the ‘all life has meaning’ in your morality went, but you damn sure did a number on my forces.” My breath catches, remembering the words I said to him before I left. He lowers his voice, whispering into my ear. “I’ll have my wife back, one way or another.”

The certainty in his voice douses any retort on my lips. He hooks his arm around my elbow and pulls me to my feet. I turn to find John smiling darkly at me as Jacob pulls me toward the backseat of the truck. John waggles his fingers at me and leaves to finish his baptisms.

Jacob opens the truck door and shoves me unceremoniously inside—right up against one of his masked Chosen, bow in hand. He looks at me with narrowed eyes. He doesn’t say a word, but I think that might be a smirk under the mask.

I’m so fucked.

Jacob slides in beside me, draping an arm over my shoulder. I try not to lose myself in the familiarity of the action. “Don’t worry,” he says, his breath tickling my ear. “They won’t kill you, even if they want to. Joseph won’t allow it. I won’t allow it. If you die during your trials, though. Well, that’s a different story. If you can’t hack it, you aren’t who Joseph believes you to be—or who I married.” He nuzzles his nose against the skin of my neck, and I shiver as a familiar flash of lightning strikes through my body.

“Be the good little soldier I know you are, and you’ll be fine. For all your morals, you are a killer at heart. You are good at it,” he purrs, and I can’t help the tilt of my chin to look into his eyes. He smiles, dragging the pad of his thumb from my bottom lip, down my throat to my collarbone. I watch him with glazed eyes, wishing he would both touch me more and get away from me. “By the way, I love the hair,” he whispers, so the man beside me can’t hear.

A puff of air escapes my lips, but Jacob turns his attention to the driver’s side of the truck, motioning at someone. The driver’s side door opens, and a Judge jumps in. It takes everything in me not to scream in my drug haze as it hops over the truck console and sits down in the passenger seat. It turns to look at me hungrily with Bliss-glazed eyes, its tongue lolling out of its mouth as it pants. Jacob reaches over the seat to scratch it behind the ears as another Chosen, a woman with dark skin and fierce eyes, climbs into the driver’s seat. The truck rumbles to life, and we start moving.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Jacob says. “Bag her.”

I look at him, brow furrowed in confusion as my mind tries to catch up. The male Chosen covers my head with a black canvas bag from behind, and the world goes an all-encompassing, inky black. I flail a moment, but Jacob’s arm holds me steady as adrenaline spikes, and his free hand grabs the zip tie binding my wrists as I strike out, pinning my hands to my chest. A drawstring is tightened around my neck, not enough to choke me to death, but the man isn’t gentle.

Jacob strokes my braid where it hangs over my shoulder. “Can’t have you knowing where we are going, can I?”

“Think I’ll escape?” I ask, turning to face him even though I can’t see him.

He barks a laugh. “You wish you could, sweetheart.”

The drive from Holland Valley is a long one, giving me plenty of time to sober up. No one speaks as I stay focused on the Bliss sparkles slowly fading from my darkened vision, rather than the smooth circles Jacob’s finger makes on my bare shoulder. I shrink into his side, resting my head on his shoulder as I shiver in my freezing clothes. He was always my personal space heater. I feel his lips brush the top of my head through the bag more than once, and warmth spreads through my chest each time.

The softness dissipates as the truck stops, and Jacob pulls me out, catching me before I fall. “I might be able to get out on my own if you didn’t have this damn bag over my face,” I say bitterly. He chuckles in answer but doesn’t speak as his calloused hand wraps around my upper arm.

I follow his lead, knowing damn well I can’t outrun him (tried for funsies once and failed miserably), much less the wolf brushing against my left leg as we walk together. Metal clangs, pricking my ears sharply as doors are opened and I’m half-dragged up steps and down hallways.

“Hey, Peaches,” Jacob says, speaking to someone in a disparaging tone.

Peaches? She can’t be here.

“Y-yes, sir?” Pratt’s voice stammers.

Pratt doesn’t stammer.

“Pratt?” I ask, just to be sure.

“Evie?” Pratt’s voice cuts through me like a blade. It’s rough and cracked now, not smooth and playful like it used to be when we would shamelessly flirt in the office. I might have ten years on him, but he never seemed to care.

“I didn’t say talk to her,” Jacob snaps, thankfully ignorant of my past with Pratt. It didn’t go anywhere, but it could have—if I had let it.

“Y-yes, sir,” Pratt says again, and my heart drops at his obedience.

The drawstring loosens, and the bag is pulled from my head. I blink away the sudden brightness, and Pratt’s bloody and bruised face comes into focus. “What did you do to him?” I ask, turning on Jacob.

I glance back at Pratt, finding a look of shock on his face as he takes in the scars and tattoos across my chest and down my arms. He doesn’t speak, per Jacob’s order, but I can clearly read the question in his eyes. I shake my head once in answer as Jacob says, “I broke him.” My blood runs cold. “Had to beat that smug smirk off his face.”

Jacob doesn’t miss my head shake at Pratt—he sees everything—and his hand caresses the side of my neck. His eyes flicker between the two of us.

“Hold still, sweetheart,” Jacob says as his grip tightens, watching Pratt’s eye cloud with confusion as he glances back at me.

“For what—?” My voice turns to a yelp as a sharp pain pierces me in the side of the neck. I stagger sideways as the Bliss shot kicks in, flooding me with a different feeling than before.

A different strain?

Jacob steadies me before letting go. “Peaches, take her to the video room.”

He pushes me forward, and the world leaps. I let Pratt lead me into a room with flashing lights, holding me steady as I trip over the threshold. He leads me to a chair in the back. “Sit here,” he mumbles, guiding me into a wooden chair.

Pratt cuts the zip ties and cuffs my wrists and ankles to the chair. I am much too high to think about fighting back. Pratt stands, studying the sins on my skin and the Eden’s Gate cross before meeting my gaze with wide eyes. “I left,” I whisper. “I’m not,” I add, shaking my head again. He relaxes momentarily before tensing again and scampering to the front of the room as Jacob appears, watching him closely with narrowed eyes.

It takes a moment for my eyes to focus on anything as the Bliss settles heavily on me. Two other people are cuffed to chairs like mine. We are facing a wall with macabre images of dead deer and snarling, bloodthirsty wolves flickering with each new slide of the projector. Jacob paces purposefully in front of the screen, the images appearing on his face as he launches into a speech. A scream from somewhere in the building makes me jump, but he doesn’t pay me any attention.

“The world is weak. Soft. We have forgotten what it is to be strong. You know our heroes used to be gods?” He talks directly to the duo in front as a snarl echoes through the room, sending a shiver of fear down my spine. “And now our heroes are godless. Weak. Feeble. Diseased. We let the weak dictate to the powerful, and we are shocked to find ourselves adrift.”

I can feel his voice in my bones, setting aflame a deep longing that I haven’t felt in a long time. A need to control. Hunt. Kill. Sacrifice.

“But history knows the value of sacrifice. Of culling the herd so it stays strong. Over and over, the lives of the many have outweighed the lives of the few. This is how we survived. And we’ve forgotten…And now the bill has come due.” His eyes meet mine as he approaches. “Now, the Collapse is upon us.” He leans over me, hands gripping my forearms with strong fingers. “And this time, the lives of the few outweigh the lives of the many. And when a nation that has never known hunger or desperation descends into madness, we’ll be ready.” He drags his fingers slowly down my arms and the back of my hands, halting as he finds the small silver wedding band on my finger that I never took off, just moved it to my right ring finger. He looks at me, searching my eyes—searching my soul—with his piercing blue gaze. I don’t know what he finds there as the Bliss confuddles my mind, but he stands with a sideways smirk on his face.

He takes a small box from the projector stand beside me, winding it up. His eyes never leave mine. “We will cull the herd. We will do what needs to be done.” He opens the box, and familiar music fills my ears. Bliss-like sparkles surge, and a red fog descends over my vision. My muscles tense, and I grip the chair with a groan as I involuntarily begin to shake, seizing, before the world fades to red.

I lose count of how many times my drug-addled mind takes me through my trial. Jacob coaxes me along the entire time with affirmations that make my heart swell with pride. But it isn’t real, it can’t be, because every time I wake up in my chair. More videos. More Bliss. More people. Until there is nothing left.

Chapter Text

That damn song plays softly in the background, keeping me in a sparkling fugue state as I come around again. The projector is gone, and sunlight cuts through the cracks in the slats of boarded-up windows. Lying on my side, the world shifts strangely, as if it wants to spin, but my brain can’t process the function correctly.

A blinding light startles me as the door bangs open. A figure stumbles in, apparently having thrown himself into the door. “Oh, fucking hell, it reeks in here,” a familiar voice says. “They all look dead,” the man says after a moment. “You don’t think she is—?” It’s Wheaty.

“Turn that fucking music off and check ‘em,” Eli orders in a gruff voice. “Walker, help him.”

“Why do I always get corpse duty?” Wheaty asks, but his heart isn’t in the jest.

The music cuts off, and my mind clears. They rustle around, checking for signs of life. My eyes fall shut as I fade out until the sensation of being lifted makes me open my eyes once more. “Oh shit!” Wheaty cries out, losing his grip on my overturned chair as he realizes I’m alive.

I’ll have to kick his ass later for dropping me, but my cheek hitting the ground makes me fade out again for a moment, losing my train of thought.

“Is she—?” Eli asks, vaulting over the bodies in the room to reach me. “Evie, can you hear me?”

I groan, staring blindly at him, but I lean into his hand as he cups my cheek. Wheaty cuts the cuff chains with a bolt cutter from his backpack, freeing me. They each take an arm, pulling me upright. I cry out as my stiff muscles protest the movement.

“H-how long?” I croak through dehydrated vocal chords.

Eli says, “Too long,” as Wheaty mutters, “Three weeks.”

“Did—?” I fade out as they drag me through the exterior door and down the stairs. “Jess?” I finally force out.

“She is fine,” Eli tells me. “I got her, Wheaty. Get the truck,” he orders. “She showed up a few days after you went missing, bloody and a little worse for wear after escaping the Lumber Mill, but she did some good work over there. She said you trained her well.”

Eli easily scoops me up into his arms. “Good,” I say, barely audible, and go limp in his arms.

I wake up on the couch of the Wolf’s Den, Wheaty sitting beside me, watching. He sits up straight upon seeing my eyes open. “She’s awake!” he calls over his shoulder. “You had me so fucking worried,” he says, grabbing my hand lying limply across my stomach. “We put you through a round of deconditioning, but we quit when you started bleeding out of your fucking eyes, ears, and nose. You’ve been out for almost two days. Was starting to get worried that you weren’t going to wake up.” He is rambling, so I know I freaked him out.

Tammy’s angry voice follows Eli as he rushes into the room. “We can’t keep her here.”

“She isn’t dangerous,” Eli says.

“Bull-fucking shit, Eli! Jacob has played with her head for three weeks. Something is bound to be scrambled.”

Eli waves Tammy off, and Wheaty squeezes my hand before standing.

Eli ignores the chair, kneeling on the floor beside the couch. He doesn’t say anything, just holds my gaze as he brushes dirty hair from my face.

“Hi,” I say softly. My smile doesn’t reach my eyes.

“Hi,” he says. He looks at me with concern, but Tammy appears over his shoulder.

“I will put you down if you start acting crazy,” she warns, hands on her hips. “I’ve dealt with the ex-Peggie shit, but no one comes back from Jacob the same. And you spent a fuck-ton of time in his claws.”

“Shut up, Tammy. It was only the first time,” Eli says.

Her nostrils flare. “Three weeks, Eli,” she hisses, turning on her heel, stomping as she disappears down the hall. The heavy metal door to her torture room slams shut. Part of me feels bad for the poor bastard in her kiddie pool.

Eli helps me sit up. I blink as the room starts to slowly spin. “My head is killing me,” I groan.

“Oh, here.” He hands me a glass of water from the table behind him. “Drink it slow. They gave you just enough to survive, and you’ve been out almost two days since then. Don’t need you puking it up.”

The water tastes like ash on my tongue, choking me. Eli slides up onto the couch beside me, patting me on the back. Catching my breath, I whimper and place my head in my hands. Eli’s arm wraps around me, and I tense. He hesitates for a moment, and when I don’t react any further, he pulls me into his chest.

It’s only when he starts drawing circles on my shoulder with his finger that I lose control. He is not the one who touches me like that. I stand, breathing erratically. Eli stands quickly, unsure of my reaction. “Evie?” he asks.

“I-I need a shower,” I say, darting out of the living area toward the bathroom.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, following me. He places a hand above my head on the door before I can open it and escape.

My back against the door, I begin to feel trapped. “I feel like I’m about to crawl out of my skin. Please, move.”

The desperation in my voice catches him off guard, and he steps back. “I’ll bring you some fresh clothes,” he says.

I nod once. “Thank you,” I say and slip inside the small bunker bathroom.

I look down at myself for the first time, finding all sorts of filth I don’t want to name staining my black pants with thick, varying colors of red and brown. My shirt is not the tank top I went missing in. Now, a familiar khaki shirt with a Marine Corps emblem on the breast from my old wardrobe clings to my skin with similar stains as my pants.

“What the hell?” I ask my reflection, seeing how much weight I have lost. I can count my ribs through the skin-tight shirt, something I haven’t fit in for nearly a decade, and my cheeks are hollow. There is a bruise on my cheekbone, and the dark circles under my eyes bring out the amber in my hazel eyes. But it’s the crazed look that unsettles me.

Calm down.

My breathing starts to even out, but my heart still races.

Calm down, now.

My heart nearly stops beating altogether as I realize it’s not my voice in my head, it’s Jacob’s. A knock on the bathroom door makes me yell out in terror before I can clamp my hand over my mouth.

“You alright in there?” Eli asks through the door.

“Y-yeah,” I say, cracking the door open. “Just jump. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, but don’t let Tammy see it if you can help it. She is already having a breakdown thinking you are going to turn out like the others—like Mark,” Eli says. He looks tired, like he hasn’t slept in days.

I nod, knowingly. I’ve skulked around Tammy’s torture room enough to have found the letter from her late husband, who apparently joined willingly—and died. I haven’t asked too many questions, though. “I’ll be okay,” I give him my best smile, but it falls short.

“If he loved you, he wouldn’t have done this to you,” Eli says pointedly.

Or he believes it’s the only way to save me. I avert my eyes and accept the clothes from him before shutting the door in his face.

I strip off my clothes, trying not to look at myself more than necessary. I’ve never been so thin, even when—nope, don’t go there. I’m missing muscle mass, and my skin has an eerie gray pallor, unlike my normal fair complexion. I turn the shower on full blast and step in before the water has warmed up. The shock to my system clears my head, and I manage a thorough shower, moments before the water runs cold.

I had hoped for comfy pants, but the clothes Eli brought me include a pair of faded-past-the-point-of-still-being-black cargo pants with holes worn in the knees, a black tank top, and an old, oversized, olive green sweater that hangs off my shoulder, exposing the Eden’s Gate cross. I braid my hair in a thick, single rope to avoid the “Ah, look! Twins!” jabs at Wheaty and me from Eli and Carl, even though we look nothing alike. I tried the two braids once before, and we had to listen to them go on about it for a week. They seem to think we should be related.

I pad down the hall, thankful for the socks in the pile of clothes as the cold from the metal floor seeps through the thick wool. I find Eli and Wheaty in their usual corners. Faint screams of pain emanate from Tammy’s room, but no one acknowledges them.

“Over and out,” Eli says, putting down the CB radio microphone. “Dutch is still trying to get the radio transmissions clear. Bastards won’t leave the towers alone,” he tells Wheaty, jolting at the sight of me.

“Sorry,” I say, picking at the fraying sleeve of my sweater. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m just not used to seeing you there,” he says guiltily. “You look like you feel better.”

“I do.” Looking over at Wheaty, I manage a half-hearted smile. “I’m going to beat your ass for dropping me on the floor,” I warn, pointing at the bruise on my cheekbone. He stares at me, mouth open and speechless. “Yeah, I remember,” I say, managing a laugh.

“I thought you were dead, like the rest, and then you moved—” his eyes are red-rimmed, voice shaking.

“I’m playing, I’m playing. I won’t beat you,” I say, walking to him and opening my arms. He wraps his arms around me with the strength of a bear. I refrain from groaning in pain as my sore body protests and let him hold me as long as he needs. I found a soft spot for Wheaty the moment I met him, and the feeling has been mutual. I’ve filled some big sister role for him, but I did not realize how much he cares until he sniffles. He is actually fucking crying.

He lets me go and wipes his eyes. Turning back to fiddling with the radio on his desk, he says, “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” I say, turning to face Eli. There is a sad look on his face, and I suddenly feel ashamed for how I reacted earlier. But the last three weeks are a blur, and the last thing I really remember was John almost drowning me. Everything else? Fuzzy. Sparkly. Red. And Jacob’s warmth in the truck.

Eli doesn’t do or say anything, merely watches me, so I step toward him, tucking myself into his chest as I slip my arms around him. He stands frozen in shock for a moment. Then, something like a sigh ripples through his chest, and his arms engulf me. Quiet tears stream down my cheeks, but I dry them on his jacket before anyone can see. “Thanks for coming to find me,” I say into his chest.

“Anything for you,” he says, resting his cheek on the top of my head.

It feels too intimate, so I pull away, composing myself. “What can I do to help?” I ask quietly, unable to meet his gaze.

Wheaty answers, hearing me across the small room. “Not a fucking thing. Sit your ass down.”

I raise a brow at his tone and scowl at him over my shoulder, but Eli says, “What he said. You need to eat whatever you can get your hands on and get some color and weight back. You look like death.”

“I can’t be useful doing that?” I ask, not looking forward to radio duty, but if it will keep my mind busy, I’ll do anything.

“Not until we make sure you aren’t going to lose your shit,” Tammy says, exiting her room. The limp body of a Peggie sits in her infamous chair of doom in a kiddie pool hooked up to a car battery.

I raise a brow in question. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she says, walking to stand in front of me, hands on her hips like normal. Sometimes, I hate being the shortest person in the room, even if I am probably the oldest. I haven’t the faintest clue how old Tammy is, but when she gets the mother-bear vibe going on, she is quite terrifying. I have to resist shrinking away from her as she stares down at me.

“Besides the fact that you still have some Peggie-ass tendencies? You were gone for three weeks. On the first round.” She takes a deep breath. “And you lived. You were rescued. Without incident, if you didn’t know. If that isn’t shady as shit, I don’t know what is. For all we know, Jacob sent us a time bomb with a bow on her pretty little red head.”

“Why would he do that?” I ask, cringing at how ignorant I sound.

She pokes me in the chest, and I shrink back like a swatted dog. “Because he knows you know where the Wolf’s Den is,” She takes a step forward, backing me into the map desk. “He knows you are the most skilled fighter we have, and the bastard would cum his pants at the thought of turning you against us.”

“I am not that special,” I say. But I am. “There are plenty of people for him to play with.”

“But only one with a history like yours. You never talk about it, but you clearly spent more than enough time buddy-buddy with a fucking cult to be marked the way you are,” she accuses. “Who were you before you left them, huh?”

My heart races, and I open my mouth to say something, anything, but she cuts me off. “You may have been the one to put the cuffs on Joseph, under orders or whatever, but I’m not entirely sure it wasn’t all some sick fucking plan to kick off his little Apocalypse. I really don’t trust a word out of your fucking mouth, if I’m honest.”

A spike of anger pushes me to step toward her, nose-to-nose. “Whoa, whoa,” Eli says, pushing himself between us.

I shrink away from the look of something like shock that crosses his face as he looks at me in the eyes, but he turns his attention to Tammy, placing himself in front of me like a shield. But for some reason, I don’t feel like he is shielding me from danger.

“Evie needs to rest. She doesn’t need this bullshit right now,” Eli says, trying to sound diplomatic, but there is an undercurrent of anger and—anxiety?

“Oh, come on, Eli. Stop standing up for her. It doesn’t matter if you are in love with her.” Eli and I both jerk at her words, but she carries on. “This is some serious shit, and if you aren’t going to take it as such, you are going to end up dead.”

“I trusted you, didn’t I? And I’ve known Evie a hell of a lot longer than I have you,” he says, voice deathly quiet. Tammy pulls away. “That’s what I thought.”

“It’s not the same—” she starts, but Eli holds up a hand, cutting her off.

“You should both calm down and rest. We can talk about this later if needed. But we have work to do that doesn’t involve fighting amongst ourselves,” Eli says, more calmly than I could, or would, have. “Evie is on our side now. The past doesn’t matter.”

Tammy storms back into her torture room, clearly not interested in resting. Eli turns to me, but my gaze falls to Wheaty, who is looking at me with a frown. “What the fuck was that?” Eli asks, pulling my attention away from the younger man.

“What was what?” I ask, genuinely curious. I’m not the one who started that fiasco.

“That anger,” he says.

“I’m tired of her fucking pushing. I can’t get mad?” I ask, truly unsure of why everyone is so startled.

“That glazed-over look. I saw it after you woke up, too,” Eli says quietly. “I don’t know what it is, but it isn’t good. It isn’t you.”

I bite my lip as tears well up in my eyes. “Okay,” I say simply and leave, dodging Eli’s hand as he tries to stop me. “Don’t fucking touch me,” I growl, exiting the room.

At my bunk, I put on my spare boots, lacing them up angrily. I shove some extra clothes and ammo into a bag and slide my arms into the old Army jacket Dutch gave me after he saved my ass from the river. The irony of the 82^nd Airborne patch is not lost on me.

Carl frowns as I approach his counter. I need a pistol and a bow,” I say without greeting, sliding a wad of cash toward him.

“Jess took the last bow I had last time she was here. Can I get you something else?” he asks.

“Anything silenced?” I ask with a sigh. I’m going to kill John for taking my favorite weapons, if nothing else.

“I’ve got an AR-CL with a silencer,” he says, grabbing it from the rack behind him. “And a—”

“I’m not taking Peggie outposts down with a fucking revolver. You don’t have a spare 1911 back there? I brought you a shit ton a—uh, over a month ago,” I say, remembering how long I’ve been gone.

Carl looks at me sheepishly. “I’ve got one, but it’s modded. Gonna cost a bit more.”

I stop myself before I berate him for never charging me extra for anything before now, pulling out the last bit of cash I have. “Will this cover it?” I ask.

He raises his brow and nods. “Y-yeah. You want it silenced, too?”

“That is all the money I have,” I say, looking pointedly at the bloated wad of cash on the counter.

“It’s on me. It’s the only gun it’ll fit. Here,” he says, sliding the lot toward me.

“Thanks,” I say, not meeting his eyes.

“Can I do anything?” he asks, leaning over the counter as I walk backward toward the ladder.

“Stop looking at me like Tammy does. I’m not going to explode,” I snarl, finally meeting his eyes.

He looks taken aback, but nods, keeping his mouth shut.

I leave the Den with gritted teeth and empty pockets.

Chapter Text

I shouldn’t have left like I did. I know I shouldn’t have. Shouldn’t have snapped at Carl, either. But Eli is right—something isn’t. I can feel it. There is something inside me like a coiled snake ready to strike, and given the chance, it would’ve gone after Tammy. I wish so badly that I had told Dutch to go fuck himself and kept my ass in the Wolf’s Den like Eli told me.

Now, it seems that spite and anger are the only things keeping me standing.

But I can’t go back right now. I just have to keep my mind from wandering to Jacob. There is so much I want to ask him. So much I need to tell him.

His voice is constant in the back of my mind, voicing fleeting comments that I barely hear. But when I stop to think about it, I realize he has been there the entire time. Even before, but stronger now. Nobody has explained to me exactly what Jacob does to people since I left, but I think if they were a little loose with their tongues, I might either feel better or eat a bullet now and save everyone from the trouble.

I traipse haphazardly through the mountains for what feels like hours, even though I know I don’t have that kind of stamina. I wish I had a bow to take out a few of the smaller animals I could easily carry without wasting ammo. Where am I going? I have no fucking idea. But east sounds good.

Maybe I’ll harass Whitehorse and get him to make me some of his famous eggs that everyone keeps talking about.

But I don’t have it in me to walk that far. I’m so fucking stupid. And seeing him would remind me of Pratt, which leads me back to Jacob, whom I’m trying not to think about.

“Motherfucker!” I yell, kicking a limb out of my way. Or trying to. I hiss in pain, finding the limb not nearly as dead and light as I thought. Thankfully, the boots I’m wearing are steel-toed, or I would be in a world of shit.

A familiar, deep rumbling chuckle comes from my right, further down the hill. It’s downwind, so I can’t smell the campfire smoke, but the glow of it flickers through the trees as the sun starts to set. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop myself from seeing his face.

Like a moth to a flame.

“Don’t go breaking a toe. It’ll slow down your time in your next rounds, sweetheart,” Jacob croons.

I draw my pistol, aiming it at his head as I enter the clearing he has a small camp set up in.

He tilts his head toward me with a raised brow. “We both know you aren’t actually going to shoot me,” he says. And he is right. I could never kill him. Not willingly.

I holster the pistol and slowly strip off the rifle and backpack slung across my shoulders, laying them down at my feet. I can, however, kick his fucking ass and make him bleed for the shit he has pulled. He is leaning up against a fallen log, slowly roasting the corpse of a badger on a spit over a fire I would have smelled if I had gone south like I usually do, instead of east with no destination in sight.

He narrows his eyes playfully, as if knowing what I’m going to do before I pounce. I pull my knife from its sheath on my thigh before colliding with him. To my credit, it scrapes his collar bone before he uses the momentum of my attack to flip me over, pinning me to the ground with my knife to my throat. Blood wells from the wound, staining the top of his khaki shirt a dark brown.

“My little Hellcat wants to play rough?” he purrs, pushing his weight onto me.

I scream in his face, pushing against the blade. The sharp sting as it cuts into my skin doesn’t deter me. I relish the look of surprise on Jacob’s face as I kick him in the back of the head, flipping us over so I am on top of him. He still controls my wrist and the blade I hold, no matter how much weight I throw against it.

“This is a familiar position,” he says, smirking through the shock of my ferocity.

My body stiffens, and I can’t help but feel him against me.

I’ve missed him inside me.

He laughs out loud as he grabs me by the throat with his free hand and flips us back over. I roar with rage, my hips bucking against him in a futile attempt to dislodge him, but I can’t go anywhere with him straddling my hips and locking my ankles down with his feet. He has over a hundred pounds on me, and I am still so weak.

He twists the blade from my hand and tosses it aside. “You don’t wanna kill me, sweetheart. I think you want to fuck me.”

I roar again, but my voice cracks with angry tears. Jacob sits back, catching my hands as I try to hit him with whatever I have left in me. He pins them to the ground, perpendicular to my body, so I have no leverage. I’m stuck between the equivalent of a rock and a nuclear bomb.

I scream, wishing for someone to hear, but I know I am fucked. In the middle of nowhere and pinned to the Goddamn ground, I might as well die now. “Good to know I didn’t kill the fire in you,” he says, tilting his head at me as if trying to figure out what to do with me now that he has me.

“You killed something,” I whisper before I can stop myself. Whether it was the ability to stay away or something else, I don’t know.

He raises his brow with a sideways smirk, covering something darker than humor. “Did I now? Do tell. I was under the impression you killed something first when you left me.”

“I—” Fuck. I did try to kill something, and the very thing I was trying to save died instead. The longing I have tried to forget gets stronger the longer he touches me, and it makes me sick.

“Are you going to try to hit me again?” he asks.

The fight goes out of me, and I shake my head. “No,” I mumble.

He slowly climbs off me, offering me a hand. I look away. I hear him sigh, and he sits down on the log. I sit up and scoot a few feet away from him, but I don’t stand up or try to run. There is still a comfortable something between us despite the tension that I have longed for, whether I knew it or not.

After a moment of silence, I say, “I hate you.”

Jacob nods his head. “But?” he asks.

I turn to look at him sharply. “But?” I repeat.

“But you still love me,” he says without the pride I would expect from the brother of John Seed. His eyes are sad—because of me. I hate myself.

I stay silent, gritting my teeth. I never should have left. But can I admit that? No. I find him studying me with a frown. “What is it?” I ask.

“Whose jacket is that?” he asks, a jealous tone to his voice as he deftly changes the subject.

I look down at the 82^nd Airborne patch with a chuckle, realizing why he is getting bent out of shape about it. “One from Dutch Roosevelt’s closet he let me have after he fished me out of the river the night the reaping started.”

Jacob huffs a laugh, but his shoulders are tight. “How fucking convenient.”

“What? You and Dutch are like the same fucking person, but like thirty or forty years apart,” I say with a shrug. “He served in Vietnam.”

Jacob looks perplexed, nodding with a hard look on his face. “Interesting. He was always trying to take you away from me. Only man with the balls to stand up to me,” he says. “You didn’t fuck him, did you?”

The audacity. “You think so little of me?” I ask. “He is probably old enough to be my grandfather.”

Jacob shrugs, turning the badger. “I don’t know what to think of you anymore.”

“I’m not a slut,” I growl. “And what’s interesting?”

We glare at each other. “How small the world is. And who you affiliate yourself with now.” He pauses to look me over. “You haven’t fucked Eli, have you? I know you’ve been holed up wherever the hell he is.”

My mouth drops open. “How fucking dare you,” I say.

“Have you?” he asks again, eyes narrowing.

“No!” I almost yell.

He searches my eyes but doesn’t say anything else as he takes the badger off the fire. “Are you hungry?” he asks quietly.

I balk at him. “Are you fucking serious?”

He pauses a moment. “Yes.”

“After you starved me for three fucking weeks, now you want to offer me food?” I ask, going to stand.

“Sit the fuck down,” he growls. I slouch back into my seat on the ground. “And yes, you need to eat.”

“I needed to eat three weeks ago,” I say, leaning toward him with a snarl.

“You are in recovery now. There is a difference between that and training. If you are going to go off the rails and leave the one place that could offer you food and safety, I might as well pick up the slack. It isn’t like I actually want you to die.” His words pull me forward, scooting within reach of the freshly cooked meat.

“I haven’t eaten since I got back,” I admit.

“Are you kidding me? It’s been two damn days since they snagged you,” he growls. “What the fuck have you been doing?”

“I’ve been blacked out since they tried deconditioning whatever the fuck you did to me. Nearly killed me, apparently. Then, I took a shower. And got in a fight with Tammy. Eli told me to calm down, so I left. She doesn’t trust me. ‘Ex-Peggie’ and ‘brainwashing’ seem to be too much.”

“You are—” he groans, cutting off a piece of meat and handing it to me. “Fucking Hellcat,” he says under his breath with a chuckle. “You are still a feisty little thing,” he says, nudging my leg with his boot.

I ignore him and take a bite of the badger meat, something he has never fed me previously, shockingly enough. “Tastes like,” I pause to chew for a minute, “pork rabbit?”

“Just eat it or you won’t make it back to whatever hole you crawled out of,” Jacob says, cutting off a leg and taking a large bite. “Unless you are planning on going home with me?” His tone is hopeful.

I shake my head before I can decide otherwise. It’s tempting. “Why are you out here?” I ask, finishing off my piece of meat quickly.

He pulls a piece from the leg in his hand and gives it to me with a sigh. I take it without question, and he says, “For some peace.”

“And dinner?” I ask with a smile I can’t help.

He gives me a knowing smirk. “That wasn’t part of the plan. Bastard came out of nowhere. I didn’t even hear him until he was gnawing on my ankle. He asked for it.”

I stare at him, amused, before something snaps and I come to my senses. “I should go.” I shove the piece of meat in my mouth and lick my fingers.

I struggle to stand, shocking myself at how weak I actually am. I didn’t help myself walking this far or attacking Jacob like I did. Stupid.

“Okay,” he says. Throwing the leg bone into the forest, he wipes his hands on his pants before standing as well. He lets me walk a few steps before he says, “Eli is weak. A coward.”

I spin around, anger flushing through me. “Eli is a good man, and he sure as hell isn’t a coward. Fuck you.”

Jacob stalks toward me, backing me up against the tree. “He is, and he will make you weak.” He leans down to whisper, “I can make you strong,” into my ear. I jerk at his words, inhaling as our cheeks touch. He pulls away, caressing his nose along my cheek. He traps me with those blue eyes as his fingers roam up my neck, making me tremble.

“I have to ask,” he says, tone serious. “Where is my son?” he asks, fingers twitching around my throat.

I sag, knowing this question would come up eventually. I just haven’t prepared myself to answer it. With a shaking voice, I say, “In a Missoula Cemetery.”

His eyes widen, and I see the grief rising. “What happened?” he whispers, his hand splaying out across my chest to keep me from running away.

He deserves an answer.

I close my eyes as tears well up, leaning my forehead against his chest. “Two months after I left—three weeks before our due date—a drunk driver ran a…ran a red light and hit the back of my—your—truck. Threw me into a culvert, and the truck flipped. The doctor said everything looked fine, that it was a m-miracle we survived with only some bumps and bruises. But by the next day, he stopped moving. I went back to the hospital.” I take a deep, shuddering breath. “They couldn’t find a heartbeat, so they induced me. I—” my voice cracks, wishing I could forget the worst day of my life. “I gave birth to a stillborn baby boy with bright red hair and blue eyes. A spitting image of his father,” I say, looking up at Jacob, staring into those familiar, hauntingly blue eyes.

The first tears I have ever seen him shed creep down his cheeks. “I couldn’t save him,” I whisper. “Nobody could save him. He was already gone before I got to the hospital.” I shudder a sob. “I was all alone. And it was my fault.”

Jacob’s hand leaves my throat, cupping my cheek as our foreheads touch. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he says as his other hand strokes my hair, almost frantically, as if trying to hold onto something that is real.

I finally say it. “I shouldn’t have left. But I wasn’t strong enough to do what needed to be done.”

Jacob shakes his head. “You are the strongest person I know. You have the strength to do things I never could.” Like tell Joseph no remains unspoken, but I see it on his face.

I shake my head. “Doesn’t change anything. And now I’ve brought on the Collapse because I couldn’t hold my shit.”

“That isn’t true,” he says, stroking my bottom lip with his thumb.

“Yes, it is,” I say so quietly that I can barely hear myself. “Joseph called me Hell. And I’ve been doing a pretty good fucking job of bringing it down—whether I planned to or not.”

“But he still believes you can return. I want you to come back,” he admits. “I’m willing to forgive you.”

“I don’t want to return to him,” I say desperately. “I want to return to you. Only you. And don’t think for one moment I’m not beyond pissed at you using our fucking wedding song to condition me, you asshole. Yes, I want to fuck you, but I also want to beat you within an inch of your life, so please, back up,” I say, pushing him away. “I’m not willing to forgive what you’ve done to me.”

“Evie,” Jacob says, looking downcast. “I had to.”

“Don’t ‘Evie’ me. And stop contacting me on the fucking radio. I’m not going to answer,” I say, gathering up my stuff.

His voice is like a breath of wind. “And yet, you don’t turn it off.”

I clamp my jaw shut and disappear into the trees without looking back.

Chapter Text

“Where the hell have you been?” Wheaty asks as I walk back into the radio room after dropping my bag and weapons off at my bunk. He seems to be truly pissed off for the first time I have ever witnessed.

Eli spins around from the screen and pulls me into an awkward hug. I squeak at the suddenness, freezing in his arms. “You scared the shit out of me!” he says.

“I went for a walk,” I say, pushing away from him as gently as I can. His eyes rove over me, looking for any sign of harm, catching sight of the scratch on the side of my throat from my knife.

“That’s not resting. And what the hell is that?” he asks, pointing at my throat, but he doesn’t wait for an answer. “A five-hour walk?” he adds incredulously. “I couldn’t find you on the cameras. Why weren’t you resting?”

God, with the questions…

“Vines,” I say dismissively, knocking his hand away from the wound on my throat. “And I thought someone was following me, so I took a detour to lose them,” I say, not actually lying. Jacob tried to follow me, but I can be just as elusive as he can. I finally lost him and made my way back before the cloud cover took out the moonlight to guide my path. I ignore the last part of his question.

“It’s almost midnight, Evie. What the fuck?” I take a step back from the tone in Eli’s voice.

“I don’t even know what fucking day it is yet. Don’t give me that shit, or I’ll leave again,” I threaten. “And, by the way, it’s about to come a hell of a rainstorm,” I add, and Eli raises a brow as a crack of thunder rattles the bunker as I speak.

Called it.

“This isn’t you,” Wheaty says, softly placing a hand on my shoulder.

“You all seem to think you know me so well.” I look at Eli. “I’m starving.”

“Tammy made dinner. There are leftovers waiting for you,” Eli says. “She made extra so you could eat as much as you can.” I look at him questioningly. “She does care,” he says. “She’s just a bitch about it at times.”

I laugh, but it feels forced. “Okay,” I say, and head off to find this so-called food. I only came back because I’m too weak to make it anywhere else, if I’m honest.

It turns out to be the best batch of spaghetti made with deer meat that I’ve ever eaten. I stop myself before I make myself sick after shoveling the first plate down my throat. I sneak the rest of it to my bunk to nibble on, snagging a handful of travel-sized vodka bottles from the cabinet on my way. I pull the makeshift curtain around my bunk closed for some privacy. Luckily, everyone is already asleep. Saves me from having to answer questions.

I turn on the small button light stuck to the bed support and slowly make my way through the vodka bottles and the rest of the spaghetti. I shove the trash into the bin next to my bed about the time Eli appears.

“Can I sit with you?” he asks. I nod, holding the curtain open for him to slide into my bunk. He tucks his bare feet under him and leans against the bunk support opposite the light that illuminates his face.

I pick at my nails, unable to look at him. “You were right,” I whisper.

“About?” he asks, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Staying here. I shouldn’t have left so quickly,” I say. “Nothing feels right anymore.”

“You thought your friend was in danger. I can’t knock you for that,” he says, watching me, but I refuse to meet his gaze as he adds, “Except for today. That was just dumb. You need to rest.”

I ignore the last comment. “But she wasn’t even there,” I say, throat thick with unshed tears. “John was, though.” My voice is barely audible.

Eli shifts. “You saw John?”

I nod. “He almost drowned me trying to cleanse my soul before Joseph stopped him.” I take a shuddering breath. “Then he threw me at Jacob’s feet, and I don’t remember much else.”

Lies.

Eli runs his hand through his hair. “I didn’t know.”

I bury my face in my hands. “I feel heavy. Confused.”

Eli leans forward, and I finally look at him. “You just need time,” Eli says, tucking a piece of hair escaping my braid behind my ear.

I try not to squirm as his fingers hover against my skin a moment longer than they should. “You really think so?” I ask, wanting to hear it, even if I don’t believe it.

I’m in too deep.

“Yes. Jacob only got you once. Even if we couldn’t finish deconditioning the first stage, I have to believe it did something." Eli’s fingers trace the bruises on my face and down my neck.

If only he knew that wasn’t my actual problem.

I pull back from his touch. “But Tammy said I was there longer than—” Eli cuts me off.

“I don’t care what Tammy said,” he says, scooting closer to me, making my heart rate spike with anxiety. “We will help you. Just like you’ve helped us.”

“I think I’m beyond being helped,” I say. “I—”

Eli leans forward, kissing me softly on the lips. I freeze, brain foggy from the stolen vodka. I place my hand on his chest to push him away, but he places his hand over mine. “Give me a chance,” he whispers. “I’ll treat you right.”

“Eli—” He kisses me again, and for a moment, I kiss him back until my brain catches up with my body. I shove him away. “No, please. I can’t.” I stand, wiping my lips as I start to panic. I retreat to the living area as Eli follows.

“Why?” he asks, trying to stay quiet so we don’t wake up the entire Den. “What is it that he has that I don’t?”

I bite my knuckles and turn to face him. “My heart,” I say through tears.

Eli looks as though I’ve slapped him. “He hurt you.”

I nod. “I know, but he did it for a reason, not for pleasure.”

“A reason? What fucking reason could make it okay to torture his own wife?” he whispers harshly.

“It’s conditioning,” I say without a second thought. “Not wholesale torture.”

“That doesn’t make it any better,” he says, voice rising. He grabs me by the shoulders, shaking me. “You deserve so much more, Evie,” he says.

“Stop,” I whisper, shrugging out of his grasp. “If you won’t understand, I need to leave.”

Eli steps back in surprise. “It’s almost two o’clock in the morning. It isn’t safe out there right now, and you can’t just keep leaving when you don’t want to deal with something.”

The switch in my mind flips from sad and confused to wrathful. “It’s never safe out there, according to you, but I’m one of the most dangerous predators in these woods. I have killed countless men, in the war and here. And you know what?” I ask Eli, stepping toward him as fury rolls through me. I shouldn’t say it, but I can’t help it. “I fucking liked it,” I hiss, watching with pleasure as his eyes widen. “You want to know why I’m so hung up on him?” Eli doesn’t answer. “He never held me back. Never coddled me. He has always believed in my ability to do whatever needs to be done.” And even after I couldn’t. “He has loved me through hell and back. That’s why I can’t just throw it all away and give you a chance.”

“But you did throw everything away when you left,” Eli says. The man has no shame.

I slap him, shocking both of us. “And it was the worst decision of my life,” I whisper.

I leave him standing in the living area and hastily put my boots on. I don’t even bother tying them. I sling my pack over my shoulder as he appears in the doorway, and I can’t tell if it’s grief or anger written so clearly on his face—maybe both. I don’t say anything as I pick up my weapons and leave the Den.

I don’t get more than a few steps before I sink to the ground. I don’t have anywhere to go. A sob breaks from my chest. Why is everything so fucking difficult?

I sit there, stroking the scars of ‘Pride’ through my sweater, thinking. My hand pushes my sleeve up and reaches for my knife. I pull it out, pressing the tip into the top of the ‘P’ of ‘Pride.’ The door to the Den opens, and I pull the blade away from my arm, groaning inwardly with a feeling I haven’t felt in years. A need. Like a drug addiction.

And people think I have my shit together.

Wheaty appears, lowering himself to the ground beside me as I spin the blade nonchalantly in my hand. “Eli said you were out of sorts.”

“Did he?” I grit my teeth. “Just not in the sorts he wants,” I mutter.

“What does that mean?” Wheaty asks.

I huff a sigh. “It means he doesn’t want to listen to me and would rather say I’m acting crazy,” I say.

“Why would you be acting crazy? Did he finally confess his love to you?” he asks, and I stiffen. “Oh, uh, that was supposed to be a joke.” His voice fades, bringing a comfortable silence between us as I gather my thoughts.

“He wants things I can’t give,” I whisper. “And I’m not about to get into that conversation with you,” I say, playing with the frayed edges of the hole on my right knee.

“I can understand that. But can I ask you to come back inside? It isn’t safe out here,” he says. His innocence makes me nod. I can’t break his faith in me. The bond we have formed in the past weeks is something I’ve wanted since I was a child.

“For you, okay,” I say with a sigh, forgetting about the need to cut into my arm and let the ache inside me bleed out.

“Eli is going out to destroy some of Jacob’s wolf beacons tomorrow. He wants you to man the radio. You need to get some sleep.”

I nod and let him lead me back into the Wolf’s Den, silently slipping into bed like I never left.

I dress in my freshly laundered black cargo pants and a black tank top. Unfortunately, the khaki shirt I came back in is a wreck from all the blood and grime. Tammy does good work on stains, but light colors are forever my worst enemy. There was only so much she could do. I shove it into the bottom of my bag, unable to throw it away. I slip into my boots and head for the radio room, wary of seeing Eli’s face.

“Good morning,” I say to no one in particular.

Wheaty waves, looking like he could use another hour of sleep as he sips his coffee. Eli turns away from the camera screens. “Glad to see you back,” he says in greeting. Weariness has replaced any anger or sadness that was there last night. “You ready to man the station while I’m out?”

“10-4, Captain,” I say, trying to lighten the mood, but my smile is strained. “What do I need to do?” I ask, leaning against the map desk.

“You are gonna run the radio and recover. I have to agree with Dutch that we do need you out there. We are getting desperate, but we gotta make sure you don’t get yourself killed because you weren’t well enough to burn down the county,” he says, smirking. It doesn’t reach his eyes. He sighs. “Come here a second,” and motions for me to follow him.

I raise a brow and shrug at Wheaty as he looks quizzically at us. I follow Eli into the empty kitchen. He turns on me, eyes hard. “You are still fighting with us, right?”

Ah. That. “Yes,” I say. “Just because leaving was the worst decision of my life doesn’t mean I want to go back. I left for a reason.”

Eli nods, studying me as if making sure I’m not lying. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure. And I’ll—”

“Stop trying to force your way in?” I ask, not as nicely as I probably should, but he nods. “Thank you. Can we get to work now, then?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” he says, ducking his head as he heads back to the radio room.

I ignore Wheaty’s questioning gaze and ask, “So, what exactly are you doing since I’m doing your job?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been out, but I can get these beacons turned off and clear the airways for Wheaty, easy. Keeps you safe and able to recover. Gives me a break from the screens,” he says with a shrug. “Win-win situation.”

“Unless Jacob finally gets his way and takes you out,” I say quietly, looking at Eli pointedly.

“He won’t kill me until he can locate this bunker,” he says. As long as you don’t tell him, his eyes scream.

“Answer your fucking radio when I ask for updates,” I say, shoving a pair of earbuds at him. “And use these. They will keep you from being outed by your radio. Just use one so you can hear your surroundings. Pull the one out a little if you need. The ear clip will keep it in place but still allow you to hear.”

“What?” he asks, not knowing what else to say.

“Wheaty already told me you were going out,” I say, looking away. “And I thought of this after I realized John probably heard my radio before he captured me.” I don’t mention my loud mouth might have also been a problem.

He nods. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”

“Me either,” I say with a chuckle. “Might have saved me from some shit.”

Eli runs me through the controls, but I already know most of them from watching him. “Got it?” he asks.

“Yep,” I nod.

“Jess should be bringing in another toy for Tammy to chew on later. Give her this before she leaves,” he says, handing me a piece of folded paper.

“What is it?” I ask.

“A list of outposts you two have already taken that the Peggies got their hands back on while you’ve been M.I.A.. I’ve got backup coming to help her take them back. But tell her not to burn the Lumber Mill to the ground. We need it. We just gotta keep it out of those fuckers’ hands. She will be royally pissed to learn they took it back after she killed every son of a bitch there when she escaped.”

“You want me to tell Jess not to do something? I thought you wanted me alive?” I ask with a grin.

“Lucky for you, she trusts your judgment. Don’t let her need for revenge screw us over,” he says seriously.

“I’ll do my best,” I say, shaking my head. “I didn’t plan on getting hit today, but here we are.”

“She won’t hit you,” Eli scoffs.

“She hits just as hard with words as she does with her fists. You are setting me up for some shit, but whatever,” I say, plopping down into his chair. “Luckily, I have a high pain tolerance.” I raise my arms with a smile, but Eli’s smirk doesn’t meet his eyes as his gaze hesitates on my scars, not the tattoos.

“Did you really let John carve you up willingly?” he asks, before jerking as though he didn’t mean to say the words out loud. I can feel Wheaty tense behind me.

I stare down at ‘Pride’ on my arm and remember how I almost opened the scars back up the night before myself. “Not really any of your business,” I say, looking back up at him. Atonement is a private thing. A sacred thing. Intimate. But I can’t say that out loud. Not here.

I give him a hard look, trying my damndest to convey, You don’t want to know the truth. Eli’s jaw tenses, but he doesn’t press the matter. “I’ll let you know when I make it to the first beacon,” he says.

“Be careful,” I say, settling into the chair. It’s a little on the hard side, but it’ll do.

Eli nods and leaves. I prop my feet up in front of the camera screens, waiting for something—anything—to report.

Chapter Text

Eli and I go back and forth for hours as he tracks down both the Wolf beacons and the radio jammers that are interfering with Wheaty’s broadcasts. Being so close together, both disturbances have been working a number on getting info out to the Whitetails, much less the rest of the county.

“I got something!” Wheaty calls excitedly from behind me.

I spin in my chair, munching on a large piece of turkey jerky Carl brought me earlier. “Is it clear?” I ask, twirling the microphone cord around my finger.

“There is still something interfering with it, but it’s much better. Nothing major. Seems to be a Wolf beacon. If we can kill it, we should be good,” he says as he twists some dials.

“10-4,” I say to Wheaty, and hit the talk button. To Eli, I say, “One beacon left that is interfering. Kill that one, and we are good.”

“Already spotted it. On my way,” he says.

“Be careful,” I say.

He doesn’t answer, but I can sense his response. “Sandwich?” Tammy asks, holding half a turkey sandwich with homemade mayo on fresh sourdough bread.

“Fuck yeah,” I say, grabbing it greedily. Three weeks of conditioning have made me ravenous. At Eli’s request, everyone drops by with a share of whatever they have. I already feel better.

I wait a good twenty minutes before I attempt to reach Eli again. But there is silence. “Eli?” I ask again—and again. “You there?” Silence.

“Eli isn’t answering,” I tell Wheaty. “He had one beacon left. He should have already taken care of it.”

“I’ll try to pin his location,” he says, tapping away on his computer.

“Answer me, you son-of-a-bitch,” I mutter into the microphone.

A low, familiar chuckle comes through the radio—Eli’s radio. “I’ve gotta give it to ya, sweetheart. Eli is slicker than I gave him credit for. He should be limping back to you now, despite my efforts to capture him.”

Jacob’s voice makes my blood run cold. I jerk my head up to Wheaty, wide-eyed. “Sweetheart?” Wheaty mouths. I would roll my eyes if I weren’t terrified—for both Eli and who I really am getting out.

“What did you do to him?” I ask dangerously into the microphone.

“I knew my little Hellcat would be on the other end of this radio signal,” he says as Tammy walks in to find out what’s going on. I can’t cut the transmission without looking guilty of something, so I let him talk, praying he isn’t going to out me. “Not as much as I wanted,” Jacob admits after a moment. “But if he makes it back, you’ll have to play nurse,” he purrs into the radio. “I’m kinda jealous, honestly.”

Anger floods me as warmth shoots through my core at his words. “Fuck you,” I growl into the microphone.

“I would let you,” he says in a whisper. I shiver, eyes flicking up to Tammy, who watches me with narrowed eyes.

I don’t have anything to say to that, so Tammy marches over, taking the microphone from me. “Listen here, you son-of-a-bitch. You aren’t going to win this war, and you won’t get your fucking hands on Evie ever again, you understand?” I look at her in surprise at the protectiveness she holds for me, despite not fully trusting me. It makes my heart swell.

There is silence until, “Ah, the housewife. Your husband was Mark, right?” I grab Tammy’s hand before she throws the microphone, lithely removing it from her hand.

“That’s low, even for you,” I growl.

Jacob sighs over the radio. “He would’ve been great. One of the best. But he wasn’t strong enough,” he says, curdling my blood.

“You have no—”

“Let me know if Eli makes it back,” Jacob says, a smirk in his voice.

“Turn it off,” Wheaty says in a tone I’ve never heard from him before. I immediately shut the radio off, turning to him. “He is playing with you,” he says, walking around the edge of his desk. “That motherfucker is getting off on it. Don’t give him anything else,” he warns.

“I’m fine,” Eli’s voice echoes through the Den, cutting sharply through the chaos starting to cloud my mind.

I throw the microphone to the side as I stand, stalking toward the door as Eli appears. His jacket and shirt are torn away at his shoulder with claw marks marring his skin. I catch him as he staggers into the radio room. Tammy yells out something, but all I can see and hear is the blood and ragged breaths coming from Eli.

“I wasn’t quick enough. Dropped my radio when a Judge attacked me. I was only expecting drugged wolves,” he says weakly into my ear.

“It was Jacob’s,” I say, and he looks at me questioningly. “He answered your radio,” I explain.

“Motherfucker,” Eli mutters. I guide him toward the chair I’ve been in all day and gently lower him into it.

“Tammy, I need a med kit,” I order, gently taking Eli’s jacket off him. She comes alive at my voice, having frozen at the sight of all the blood. “I’m going to have to cut this shirt off,” I say, and Eli nods.

Tammy brings a large med bag from her room, and I start pulling stuff out. “Get me a bowl of warm water and some clean rags,” I tell her. “And some kind of liquor to disinfect.”

I find the scissors in the bag and cut Eli’s shirt down the middle, praying to God that I’m not blushing as I realize how toned his chest and stomach are. The worrying amount of blood, however, draws my attention away from his abs, and I frown in concentration. Tammy appears with the water, rags, and a mason jar of moonshine. I wet a rag and start wiping away the worst of the blood to assess the extent of the damage.

“Were you a nurse or something before you joined the Sheriff’s Department?” Tammy asks. I look up at her to find her face pale.

The woman can electrocute people to death, but blood is what gets her?

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I had medic training when I served in the Marines. Being on the front lines, you kinda gotta know some shit in case the medic gets blown to shit,” I say, inwardly cringing at the memory.

“I thought you couldn’t target medics?” she asks, staring blankly at Eli’s wound.

“Yeah, well, IEDs don’t know the difference,” I say quietly.

Eli frowns as Tammy makes a little ‘Oh’ sound.

“Good news. Doesn’t look too deep, but—” I look pointedly at the footlong gashes in Eli’s skin. “It’s a lot.” I toss the rag in the bowl and open the mason jar. “This is gonna hurt like a bitch,” I say.

“Just do it.” Eli’s groan turns to a hiss, then, “Fuck!” I blow on it, trying to reduce his pain, and he actually laughs.

“I tried,” I say with a smirk, delving back into the bag. “You don’t have any fucking gloves?” I ask Tammy as I pull out sutures.

“We ran out. Haven’t been able to find any more,” she says. “What can I do?” she asks, seeming to calm down as color starts coming back to her cheeks.

“Pour some of the booze on my hands,” I say, placing my hands palms up over the water. “Not a lot. Don’t waste it,” I say.

I rub my hands together and flick the excess off into the bowl. “Stitches?” Eli asks.

“Yep,” I say, watching the blood still oozing freely from the gashes. “It’s gonna get messy, but I gotta do something to stop the bleeding. Pressure only does so much. Unless you want me to cauterize them.”

“Fuck no,” Eli groans, looking at me like I’m crazy.

“What? It’s very effective. Saved my life when I got hit in the leg by shrapnel in Fallujah,” I say matter-of-factly.

“Jesus, Evie,” Eli says, leaning his head back on the chair.

“Like the Battle of Fallujah?” Wheaty asks as I work, intrigued.

“The second one. Operation Phantom Fury,” I mumble as I focus on readying the sutures. I look up to find Eli’s eyes on me with something like amazement. “What? I’ve seen some shit, okay?” I say with a shrug. I purse my lips, trying to assess which angle would be the best to go about stitching him up.

I’m not sitting in his lap—even if it is the easiest angle to do this at.

“Lean back as far as the chair will go without flipping over,” I tell Eli. “Wheaty, give me your chair.”

Wheaty brings me his chair, and I straddle it backwards, resting against the backrest, scooting up beside Eli. “You might want a drink or two of that. This is gonna take a while.” I say, motioning toward the moonshine.

“Won’t that make him bleed more?” Tammy asks, hovering behind me. I give her a look, and she shuts her mouth, handing Eli the mason jar.

“Tell me if you need a break,” I tell Eli, and set to stitching him up.

Once I get the bleeding stopped and clean Eli up, Tammy guides him to bed as I head to the bathroom to wash off the blood smeared almost up to my elbows. Wheaty appears in the doorway. “That was pretty impressive,” he says, watching the bloody water swirl down the drain.

“Not my first rodeo,” I say, looking into the mirror at him.

A crease forms between his eyebrows. “You’ve had a pretty rough go of it at life, haven’t you?” he asks softly.

I huff a chuckle and dry my arms and hands off. “You could say that,” I say, turning to him.

“Well,” he starts, acting as if he is embarrassed, of all things. “If you ever need to talk about anything, I’m here,” he says.

“I don’t want to give you nightmares, kid,” I say lightly, exiting the bathroom. I place a hand on his shoulder. “But thanks. I’ll remember that.” I squeeze his shoulder once and head back to clean up the mess I made fixing Eli up.

I put the extra supplies back, trying to organize as I go. Fucking mess. Tammy reappears, grabbing the bowl and rags. “He is asleep,” she says. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” I say.

“I have to ask,” Tammy says, and I freeze mid-zip of the bag.

“Yeah?” I ask, looking over my shoulder at her.

“I’ve never known Jacob Seed to talk to anyone the way he did you today. And you were with the Project.” God, here it comes. “Was there something there? Before? Like, between the two of you?”

I turn back to the med bag, swallowing nausea down as I finish zipping it up. You can’t hide forever. “I really don’t want to talk about it,” I say, handing her the bag without looking at her.

“Was it that bad?” she asks.

I stop myself before I laugh out loud and shake my head. “No.” It was the best time of my life. I grit my teeth, wishing I could tell her the truth. But she wouldn’t understand. “I’m sorry, I—” I huff, chancing one more glance at her before I dart out of the room.

“Evie?” she calls after me, but she doesn’t follow when I don’t answer.

‘Pride’ seems to burn on my arm as the familiar need rises inside me, and butterflies swarm in my belly. It’s the reason we are all in this mess to begin with, and it’s the very thing that keeps me from opening up to the people around me. The source of all my fucking problems.

I grab my jacket and holster my pistol alongside my hunting knife. My feet carry me to the ladder.

“Where are you going?” Carl asks.

My brain feels fuzzy with anticipation, but I manage to keep my voice steady as I say, “For some fresh air. Don’t worry, I’m not running off. I’ll be back soon.”

“It’ll be dark soon,” he warns.

“I know, Dad,” I say with a grin. “Just been a long day. I need a minute.”

Carl nods in understanding. “Sounds like you did some good work. Thanks,” he says.

I smile sheepishly. “Anytime.”

Chapter Text

I find a secluded spot away from the Wolf’s Den and sit with my back against a tree. I push the sleeve of my jacket up to my elbow and reopen the scars of ‘Pride’ on my forearm with my hunting knife without a second thought. I hiss as the blade first breaks through skin, but as I make my way through each letter, the pain turns to a familiar pleasure.

The guilt at having let my pride land me in the position I am in, the things I’ve done, now bleeds out of me. The heaviness I mentioned to Eli the night before lightens. Not completely, but enough for now.

Finished, I lick the blade clean and put it back in its sheath. Watching as the blood seeps, pools, and drips, a sense of euphoria I haven’t felt in years settles over me. I lean my head back against the tree behind me with a sigh. A tranquil smile forms on my face at the sound of heavy footsteps.

“Evie?” Jacob asks, startled at first as he kneels beside me.

“I knew you would come,” I whisper, keeping my eyes closed. “I found your game camera.”

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks, calloused fingers gently grabbing my bleeding arm.

I open my eyes, rolling my head to the side to look at him with glazed eyes. “Atoning.”

“What the fuck for?” He never liked this, which probably makes him the more reasonable out of the two of us, despite everything.

“Letting my pride back in,” I say with a sigh, listening to blood drip onto the leaves of the forest at my feet. “I slapped those cuffs on Joseph’s wrist out of spite because my pride wouldn’t let me walk away. Not again,” I confess, opening my eyes to find Jacob’s worried gaze. He pulls a bandana from his hastily packed backpack.

“Let me wrap it,” he says, reaching for my arm.

I pull away. “No. It will either stop bleeding or kill me, and then I will have atoned for the mess I have caused.”

“Fucking hell, Evie. I never could figure out if it was you or John with the most fucked up view of slicing into yourselves.” He plops down on the ground, rubbing his face with a hand. “Why did you want me here? You would’ve done this out of view of a camera if you didn’t want me to come.”

I draw swirls in the blood on my arm, thinking it over. “To tell you that you are a fucking asshole for what you did to Eli,” I say. Not the complete truth. But it's the only one I’m willing to voice out loud.

“So, you aren’t coming home?” he asks.

I glare at him. “No. I’m still pissed at you,” I say, closing my eyes again.

“You look like you’ve taken a hit of Bliss,” Jacob says. I can feel his eyes watching me.

“Atoning is blissful,” I say. “When it’s done willingly.” I open my eyes to find Jacob directly in front of me. I reach up, stroking the stubble of his beard, relishing the feeling under my fingertips.

“Why are you two like this?” Jacob asks, gritting his teeth, grabbing the back of my hand to hold it against his face. “You even dragged Joseph along, but you two—”

I frown. “Like what?”

“So willing to hurt yourselves to feel something,” he whispers, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb.

I look at him, confused and slightly delirious. “I’m not a sadist,” I claim a little defensively.

“Maybe not, but your masochistic tendencies complement John’s sadism so well that I never knew who was hurting who. You two are like two sides of the same fucking person. I don’t get it.” He swallows, looking away. “There was always something there that you never pressed—am I correct?”

“I never fucked your brother, if that’s what you’re asking,” I say, more harshly than I intend. My eyes flutter shut again as I pull my hand from his face.

We are silent for a moment before my eyes open again. “You don’t have to understand,” I whisper, studying the blood dripping from my fingertips.

“You do know that if he had it his way, you would have been naked and bare before him as you both got off on your fucked up ritual, right?” Jacob asks angrily.

“He knows I don’t want him like that,” I say, looking Jacob in the eyes.

“But he wants you that way. It’s enough,” Jacob whispers.

I sigh. “I didn’t beckon you here to talk about John,” I say.

”Then, what did you want to talk about?” he asks.

“About you being an asshole,” I say with a blissful smirk.

“You knew I was an asshole when you married me. What do you have to say about it?”

I sit up, not missing the startled look in his eyes as I finally truly focus on him. “Why do you want Eli dead? He was your best friend. I barely managed to keep him from bleeding out today.”

“Because he won’t relent,” Jacob says, studying me. “Do you care if he dies?”

I stare at him a moment with narrowed eyes. “Yes,” I say. “He is still my friend. What the fuck happened while I was gone that made you so thirsty for his blood?” I ask.

Jacob’s gaze goes hard as he catches my eyes, holding me like prey. My breath hitches at his change in demeanor. “You left me,” he growls. “Anything about me you don’t like now is because you weren’t here to stop it.”

I stand, wobbling slightly but catching myself before he notices. “Don’t you dare fucking blame me for this,” I hiss, pointing a bloody finger at him.

He stands to meet me, leaning over me, but I don’t back down. “Everything is your fault,” he says. His words are like a slap to my face. My arm burns. My eyes burn. But wrath bubbles up, burning hotter than anything else. I vaguely recall not having that particular scar on my body.

This is new.

I strike at him with a shriek. “No!”

Tears well in my eyes as he catches my wrist with one hand and my throat with the other. I grab his wrist, trying to break his grip on my throat, leaving behind a bloody handprint. “No,” I whimper quietly as the back of my head hits the tree. “No,” I say again, trying to push myself at him, but it’s no use. He shoves me back into the tree, subduing me.

“Yes,” he growls in my face.

The tears spill from my eyes. “I didn’t want any of this,” I whisper.

“And yet everything is a response to your choices,” he whispers, letting me go. I sink to the ground, knowing he is right.

I lean forward with my face against the ground, listening to Jacob step away from me. “I’m not the only one with blood on my hands here. You are just as fucked up as I am. But if you want to play the savior, go ahead. You of all people should know how this ends,” he says.

I sob, listening to his footsteps disappear into the trees. In the silence of the forest, I scream until my throat goes raw.

Night has fallen by the time I pull myself together and sneak back into the Wolf’s Den. Silently, I make my way to the bathroom and slide inside. My arm stopped bleeding before I came back, and I’m thankful my jacket doesn’t have blood on it as I shrug out of it.

My arm and hand are coated in a flaking layer of dried blood, turning to a rusty mess as I wash my arm clean in the sink. My skin is inflamed and irritated, but not anything I haven’t dealt with before.

In the cabinet, I find a small first aid kit with antibacterial ointment and gauze. I coat my arm and wrap it, splash my face with cold water, and rebraid my hair.

Sliding back into my jacket, I creep to my bunk and trade my jacket for my oversized green sweater to cover my arm. I might not have thought the part about having to hide my arm through, but I’ve spent years dressing to hide.

In the radio room, Wheaty is kicked back in his chair, listening to Wolfmother as he eats a sandwich. I snag the other half lying on his plate. “Ahh, that’s not cool,” he says, but he is smiling as I sit down in Eli’s chair.

“Looked too good to pass up,” I say, eating half of it in one bite.

“Geez, you could at least savor it,” Wheaty says as he finishes his half. “I’m going to make another one. You want one?” he asks as he stands.

“No, this is enough, but thanks,” I say, swallowing the rest of it. “I’m about to head to bed. I just wanted to check up on Eli beforehand.”

“He woke up in pain, but Tammy gave him some of the good pain meds. He will probably be out until morning,” Wheaty says.

I nod and stand, stretching. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. Sweet dreams,” Wheaty says.

Ha, that’d be a miracle.

Chapter Text

I wake up early, but Eli is already in the radio room, dressed as usual, except he doesn’t have a shirt on under his jacket. “I see Tammy was able to stitch your jacket back together,” I say, heading to the med bag still sitting on the table.

“Thankfully. It’s my favorite,” he says with a chuckle. There are dark circles under his eyes, but he looks better than he did yesterday.

“I need to check your stitches and change the dressing,” I say, laying out the supplies next to him.

I look away as he shrugs out of his jacket with a grunt. “I’m gonna start calling you Doc,” he says with a smile.

“Please, don’t,” I scoff. “I’m still trying to get people to quit calling me Dep.”

“I’ll keep it between us,” he says, leaning back. I wipe my hands with a disinfectant towelette I find at the bottom of the bag and gently remove the tape and gauze pads covering Eli’s shoulder.

They are bloodstained, but not terribly so. Eli looks at them. “Looks like the stitches were a good idea,” he says.

“Did you ever doubt me?” I ask, cleaning off the dried blood and smearing antibacterial ointment along the stitches.

“Never,” he says quietly. My hands still, and I look up to find him watching me.

“I can’t give you what you want,” I whisper.

He nods, a sad smile on his bearded face. “I know, but I’ll be here if you change your mind,” he says. “I’ll stop pushing.”

“Thank you,” I say, turning back to the task at hand to save myself from the sincerity in his eyes. I lay the gauze pads across his chest and tape them in place.

“Did you really have to shave my chest? It’s gonna take forever to grow back in,” he says.

“I figured looking like a half-shaved bear was better than having it ripped out every time your dressings are changed,” I say, smiling. “All done.”

“Half-shaved bear? I’m not that furry,” he protests as he puts his jacket back on.

“But you are furry,” I laugh, placing the supplies back in the med bag.

“Hmph,” he grunts, taking a sip from his coffee mug. “What do you have planned for today?”

“Well, if Jess doesn’t show up, I’ll be going to make sure she hasn’t gotten herself killed. And if she does show, I have the urge to destroy some shit, so I’ll see if she wants to tag along,” I say, pouring myself a cup of black coffee from the small coffee pot in the corner.

Eli’s jaw ticks. “She is never late, and she won’t answer her damn radio. Finding her is a good plan. You feel up to going out already?”

“I was born ready,” I say, sipping my coffee. “Oh, that’s good.”

A figure appears in the doorway. “Speak of the devil,” Eli says, turning to find Jess looking a little more pissed off than usual.

“Where is Tammy’s toy?” I ask, taking in the bloody nose and black eye.

“Fucker escaped,” she growls. “Got a few good hits in, stole my radio, and split. Spent yesterday evening trying to hunt his ass down. I could really use your help out there.”

“Well, I’m down to fuck up some shit if you are. Oh, and here,” I say, handing her the list that Eli made her.

She takes it, reading it over. “You fucking kidding me?” she asks. I nod. “Cocksuckers,” she growls. “So, you coming with?”

“Damn straight,” I say, finishing my coffee. “Was gonna ask you the same thing.”

“Be careful and stay in touch,” Eli says. He doesn’t look happy about my leaving, but he keeps his thoughts to himself.

“I gotta get my shit,” I say, and Jess follows me to my bunk. I put on my jacket, sheathes, and holster. “How long do you want to stay out?” I ask, throwing some supplies into my pack.

“I’m down for a camping trip, if you are,” Jess says. “Not like I have anything else to do.”

I sling my rifle over my shoulder, and Jess frowns. “Where is your bow?” she asks.

I grit my teeth. “John,” I say simply.

“Well, shit,” she says.

I turn so she can get a look at it. “It’s silenced at least, but I haven’t had the time to have much fun with it. It’s more rapid fire than a .50 cal or the bow, though.”

“And louder,” she says.

“Did you miss the ‘it’s silenced’ bit of what I just said?”

“You can still hear that shit. I’m not running with that,” she says, crossing her arms.

“You fucking kidding me?” I ask.

“Unless you can find something else, no. I’m not dying because you lost your shit. We don’t run loud.”

I drop the gun on the bunk, my vision going hazy. “I lost my shit trying to find you, bitch.”

Jess takes a step back, and I hesitate, never having seen her back down before. “O-okay,” she says. “Bitch, you good?” she asks, looking at me sideways.

“I wish everyone would stop fucking asking me that,” I say, shoving past her and leaving my rifle on the bed.

“Where are you going?” she asks, picking the AR-CL up as if to hand it back to me.

“To find something worthy of you,” I say. “Or die trying, I guess.”

“Goddammit,” she hisses. She follows me up the ladder, but I don’t look back.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jess asks as she pulls herself out of the Wolf’s Den.

“What’s wrong with me?” I ask, but I don’t offer any other information as I stalk off down the hill.

“Yeah, bitch. From what I hear, you’ve been kinda neurotic since you got back. I wasn’t gonna judge too soon, but you sure as shit aren’t acting like you usually do.”

“I’d love to know who has been talking shit,” I say darkly as I turn to face her.

Jess glares at me. “Wheaty, but he wasn’t talking shit. He is worried about you,” she says, holding her ground.

That hits hard. “Mm,” I say, and continue down the hill toward the car I have stashed. To my surprise, she follows me. Jess isn’t one to give Dutch more than a moment, much less someone who isn’t family.

“If I’m going to have to listen to you bitch at me, you can stay here,” I say, stopping where the car should be. Fuck.

“It’s not even that. I don’t care about you as much as you think I do. It’s Eli I care about. And Wheaty. I’ve been around when you aren’t enough to know that they would both lose their shit if you died,” she says through her teeth.

Ouch.

“I’m not that important,” I say, feeling like I’ve said the same thing before, but I can’t recall when.

“You might think that, but we would all be dead at this point if not for you,” she admits.

“You got out of the Lumber Mill without me,” I say, turning to scan the area for my car.

“Because of the shit you taught me. I should be dead by now,” she says, pivoting around in front of me. “And I’ve never seen Eli so smitten with anyone as he is with you,” she says through her teeth.

Her honesty takes me aback. “And I’ve already told him I can’t give him what he wants,” I say.

“You may not see how important you are, but I do,” Jess says. I cut my eyes to look at her, not sure if I heard the rare compliment or not. “We need you,” she says. “We’ve been stronger than we ever have since you’ve been here, despite our dwindling numbers. You are worth ten of us. But if you start losing your shit—”

Guilt settles on me, and I recall my ‘fraternizing’ with the enemy, both accidentally and purposefully, over the last few days. But I can’t tell Jess about it. I would sooner tell Tammy than Jess. They’d both probably slit my throat in a heartbeat, but telling Jess feels like a betrayal.

I sigh deeply, rubbing my hand down my face. “Well, my plans are fucked, so should I just stay here?”

“You had a plan?” Jess asks with a cruel smirk.

I nod, waving my hand around where the car should be. “Someone stole the car I had parked here. I was gonna drive to the Marina and see if Addie had an extra bow her little yoga man would sell me.” I frown, remembering I don’t have any money.

“The rifle is fine,” Jess says, handing it back to me. “I just like giving you shit. I didn’t realize you would lose it on me over it.”

I narrow my eyes with a grin. “So, are you ready to raise some hell?”

“Always, bitch.”

Chapter Text

And raise hell, we do.

We spend a week camping our way through the mountains and down into Holland Valley, destroying anything with an Eden’s Gate cross on it.

Two outposts and a prisoner van later on the seventh day, we make our way to the Spread Eagle for a drink. Hudson meets us outside, pulling me into a hug. I stand there, shocked to see her.

“I thought John had you?” I ask, finally hugging her back.

“Pastor Jerome and Mary May pulled some shit when he tried to take me to the river to baptize me,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“And how long ago was that?” I ask, looking her over. She seems fine. But she still spent two months with John, and he can be a little…intense.

“A few days ago,” she says with a shrug. “The hell you two have been raising has the Peggies losing their ever-loving shit, so I’ve been staying low for the time being. I’m staying upstairs for the moment.”

“He didn’t baptize you first?” I ask as Hudson leads us inside the bar.

She shakes her head. “No, he has had me in solitary confinement, preaching at me about saying ‘Yes’ and atoning for my sins.” She shivers. “About drove me crazy.”

“I can imagine,” I smirk, but there is an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Where is the booze? And some bandages. I’m out. I got grazed by some shrapnel on the last outpost we took.”

“Grazed?” Jess asks, scoffing. “I pulled two inches of metal out of you. That ain’t a graze.”

I roll my eyes, ignoring the throbbing pain in my thigh from the wound of which she speaks. My black pants hide the worst of the gore, but I can feel blood drying in a trail down the entirety of my leg despite the bandana tourniquet.

“Jesus, Rook,” Hudson says, and I smile at her nickname for me. It’s been a while since anyone has called me that. She shoves me down into the seat by the door as Mary May appears, propping my leg up in the booth.

“You two look a little worse for wear,” Mary May says, looking Jess and me over.

“Been a long week,” I say. “Got any beer and bandages?”

“That you ask is an insult. Of course, I have beer,” she says, pulling four bottles from the fridge under the counter. She opens them, giving Jess, Hudson, and me one, keeping the last one for herself. “And bandages.” She tosses Hudson a small med kit.

“What happened?” Hudson asks, putting on some gloves from the kit and untying the bloody bandana around my leg. She prods at my leg, a light frown on her face.

I hiss in pain as she finds the wound. “Fuck, don’t stick your finger in it. A gas can exploded, and I was standing a little too close.”

“I told you to fucking move,” Jess mutters, taking a swig of beer. “You never learn.”

Mary May sets a shot of vodka on the table, and I reach for it. Hudson smacks my hand and dumps it on my leg without warning. “Son-of-a-bitch!” I growl, trying to stay still, but I really want to kick Hudson in the face. “Learn what?” I ask. “I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

“Barely,” Jess says. I stick my tongue out at her.

“We worry about you,” Mary May says diplomatically. “How are you?”

It’s the first time someone has asked me that question in a way that doesn’t make me feel as though something is wrong with me. “Been better,” I motion at my leg, “but I’m still breathing.”

She nods slowly, studying me. “You look pale,” she says after a moment.

“Probably blood loss,” I chuckle. “I feel fine, though,” I say, ignoring the heat under the bandage on my arm concealed by my sweater and jacket. I’ll have to sneak some antibiotics from Tammy’s cabinet before my arm becomes completely infected.

Stupid impulses. I didn’t take good enough care of it while out with Jess, and I’m starting to pay for it now.

“She needs to rest more,” Jess says. “But she doesn’t know how to fuckin’ chill, so I’m stuck finding shit for her to do before she loses her mind.” She glares at me. “Like blowing up John’s shit.”

“He is the one who told me to ‘become wrath’ over the radio the other day, so I am. And it’s not that bad,” I mumble. Jess kicks me, and I hush.

“And you don’t need to listen to the prick. You are going to get yourself killed,” Hudson grumbles. Are ya’ll going back to the Den today?”

“Might as well,” I say, groaning as Hudson starts stitching the hole in my leg shut. “I hate that feeling,” I say, taking a large gulp of beer.

“I wouldn’t go if you can’t get back before nightfall,” Mary May says. “John has had his guys out double time since they caught you. I think you spooked him. You can’t get a quarter of a mile out of town without seeing a patrol. Especially at night.”

I laugh. “Oh, I did,” I admit, thinking back to the glint in his eyes when I killed those two Chosen. It was fascination, but also a little fear.

“What did you do?” Hudson asks, looking up from my leg with a raised brow.

“I killed two of his Chosen who had me at gunpoint with knives—in front of him. Never fired a shot,” I say, smirking into my beer.

“Fucking hell,” Jess and Hudson say at the same time. I laugh. Mary May stares at me with her bottle halfway to her mouth.

“He did catch me after that, so it wasn’t that fantastic,” I say, trying to talk their reactions down to a level I’m comfortable with.

“What did he do to you?” Jess asks.

“Almost drowned me trying to cleanse my soul until Joseph made him stop,” I say, finishing off my beer as Hudson ties off the stitches and places a bandage over it.

“Joseph saved you?” Mary May asks, confused.

I look around at all three of them. “He doesn’t want me dead. He believes I’m the Harbinger of the Collapse. Hell following the White Horse and all that.” They all stare at me, not grasping what I’m trying to say. I sigh. “If I die, everything he believes falls apart.”

Their eyes widen with acknowledgment. “And what about Jacob’s trials?” Hudson asks. “I’ve heard some crazy shit over the last few days about what’s going on up in the mountains.”

I look at her, ears ringing. “If I don’t survive them, then Joseph was wrong.”

The bar goes quiet as my words sink into them. I mentally slap myself for saying it like it’s the truth. It is, but they don’t have to know that.

“Can I get a shot of something?” I ask Mary May, ignoring the looks of shock boring into my soul.

She gives me a sad look before perking herself up to ask, “Anything in particular?”

“You got whiskey?” I ask, grunting as I lower my injured leg to the ground and sit forward, facing Jess. Hudson slides into the booth beside me.

“House, Daniels, and Jameson,” she says.

“Jameson, please. I’m out of cash, but I’ll get you next time,” I say, picking at my thumbnail. I need a good, hot shower to get the dirt out from under my nails.

“You don’t pay for booze here,” Mary May says, pouring a double shot of whiskey for me.

“Bless you,” I say, catching the glass as she slides it across the table toward me. I down half of it in one go. “Hot damn, that’s good.”

“So,” Hudson says, “John baptized you and then what?”

I shrug, smacking my lips as the whiskey burns a path to my stomach. “Not much. Just the near drowning. He handed me over to Jacob after Joseph gave him a talking to,” I say, knocking back the rest of the whiskey.

“And then?” Hudson asks, propping her head on her hand.

So many questions.

Jess and I meet eyes for a moment. She hasn’t been through the trials, but she has other friends who have—and they didn’t make it. “I don’t remember much. But I saw Pratt.”

Hudson inhales sharply. “Is he okay?” she asks.

Should I be honest, or make her feel better? “He is alive,” I say vaguely. “I want to get him out, but I don’t know where to start.” I motion for Hudson to let me out of the booth. “I should head back. I need to see how Eli is healing up.” I give Mary May a hug, and Hudson comes for one, too. “You coming, Jess?”

“Fuck yeah. Someone has to keep you out of trouble,” she says, scooting out of the booth.

Mary May sighs. “Let us know when you get to the mountains, then the Den. I wasn’t lying when I said John has his boys out everywhere.”

“Yes, mother,” I say with a grin. I squeeze Hudson’s shoulder. “I’m glad you got out.”

“Me too,” she says.

“I’ll see ya’ll soon. Tell Jerome I haven’t forgotten about him,” I say, leaving before I have to answer any more questions.

Jess follows quietly behind me to the garage down the road. I peek around the open door. “Hey, Curtis,” I say, finding Carl’s older brother kicked back watching an old episode of M.A.S.H. on a box TV from the 80’s.

He sits up, grinning from ear to ear. “Well, look what the cat dragged in. It’s been a minute since you graced me with your lovely presence.”

He stands, grabbing me in a hug. I don’t miss the quick sniff of my hair he takes. “Got a car we can take and leave at Rae Rae’s?” I ask.

“Anything for you.” He motions to the car parked beside us. “All I got is the Zugspitz at the moment. Peggies wrecked the Bruelag you liked so much.”

“Sorry to hear, but you know I’ve never been picky. I’ll park her nice and pretty in the garage at Rae Rae’s for you to pick up. Or I’ll bring it back if I come back down before you get her.”

“Sounds good, sweet cheeks,” he says, handing me the keys.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” I warn him as I climb into the driver’s seat. Jess slips into the passenger side.

“Sorry. I forget sometimes. You know I got a soft spot for ya’,” Curtis says, damn near blushing.

I grin. “I know. That’s why I haven’t hurt you yet.”

“And I’m happy for it,” he says. “Stay safe now,”

“Will do,” I say, cranking the car and backing out slowly.

“Did you really let that fucker sniff your hair and not kick him in the nuts?” Jess asks after we get on the main road.

I chuckle. “He hasn’t ever touched me without permission, and he gives me lots of shit for free. He can sniff me all he wants. He knows if he ever does more that I’ll nail his balls to the wall and light his ass on fire.”

Jess raises a brow at me. “Seriously?”

“Listen here, my padawan,” I say with a smirk. “Sometimes, you gotta give a little to get more.” She shivers, but I hold up a hand. “That doesn’t mean you fuck them. Curtis likes the way I smell, and he doesn’t charge me to use his shit like he does everyone else, so I allow it, for my convenience,” I say.

Jess narrows her eyes before scoffing. “Whatever. I’d kill that motherfucker for sniffing me.”

“And that’s why you walk everywhere,” I say, laughing out loud.

“Bitch,” Jess mutters, but she is smiling.

Half an hour later, we pull into the garage at Rae Rae’s. I spare a glance at the two graves I dug after saving Boomer from the Peggies. I grit my teeth and look away, wishing for the thousandth time that I could have met Rae Rae and her husband.

Fucking Peggies.

I put the car in park a little rougher than necessary. Jess gives me a sideways look, but bless her, she doesn’t ask any questions. “You ready for the walk?” I ask.

“I guess so,” she says. “It’s what I’m good at, apparently.”

I shove her out of the car with a laugh, shutting and locking the garage behind us.

“How is your leg?” Jess asks.

“Sore as shit, but better now,” I say, resisting the urge to poke at the bandage. “Hudson is good at stitches.”

We walk in silence, crossing the boundary between Holland Valley and the Whitetail Mountains around five p.m.. We might make it before dark, but I doubt it.

“Wheaty told me about you patching Eli up. He was impressed. Did you really serve in the Marine Corps?” Jess asks, breaking the silence.

I nod. “Fought in the second Battle of Fallujah in 2004,” I admit, trying not to remember the details. “Did a second tour that I don’t really remember. Got a nice concussion and some amnesia on that one. Then, I almost died in a raid during Operation Phantom Fury and was honorably discharged in 2008.” I inwardly cringe as the smell of burning fuel enters my nose and a wave of anxiety washes over me. “Got stranded behind enemy lines in the desert after our chopper was shot down. I was the only survivor.” I breathe deeply, and the rising panic in my chest resides.

“Damn, bitch. But that was ten years ago,” she says. “What did you do between joining the Sheriff’s department and then?” Her question is legitimate, but I can’t say, ‘I helped start a cult.’

I am saved from the awkwardness of answering as static sounds at my hip, as if someone is hitting the talk button, but not saying anything. Jess and I look at each other, and I take my radio from my belt, waiting. It does it again, and I stop walking.

“Welcome back, sweetheart,” Jacob’s voice purrs through the radio. I can’t stop the look of fear that crosses my face. Jess holds my gaze, slowly shaking her head. “Don’t act like you don’t hear me,” he says.

Jess immediately starts looking around for the camera he is watching us through, but I am frozen in place, holding the radio lamely as I try to figure out what to do.

“Hello, Jess,” he says, causing her to spin around to stare at the radio as well. “I hear you raised some hell at my Lumber Mill. Good work,” he commends her. “Too bad your people weren’t strong enough to hold it without you there. You and my little Hellcat here make quite the team. She taught you well,” he says, and I try to hide the shiver at my little Hellcat. He could easily out me right now and kill any trust Jess has in me. Jess is too preoccupied with the radio to notice my ensuing panic. “However, I only need one of you at the moment.”

I finally look at Jess. “Run,” I say, but she doesn’t budge.

“I’m not leaving you here!” she says, readying her bow.

“You will,” I say. “I will not be the death of you. Fucking run,” I order at the same time Jacob says, “My hunters are on their way.”

“Go,” I say, pushing her down the road. Distracted with getting her to safety, I don’t see the Chosen before he steps out of the trees, firing one arrow with purpose. It hits me in the shoulder. “Fuck!” I cry in pain, pushing Jess further down the road as she turns to check on me. “Go, Goddammit,” I hiss in pain. “Let Eli know what happened, and don’t feel guilty.” I shove her once more.

Her eyes are wide with fear, but half a dozen Chosen appear from the forest. We can’t take them on, not even together. “Go,” I plead, falling to my knees as the Bliss kicks in through the pain. “GO!” I pull my pistol from its holster and fire a shot at her feet. She yelps, but she starts moving, finally. I fire again and again at her heels until she disappears into the trees.

I fall backward with a groan, the world dissolving into a Bliss haze. Jacob’s voice is the last thing I hear. “I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

Chapter Text

I wake up in a cage on hard-packed earth, the smell of meat and blood heavy in the air. I reach out, grabbing the bars, trying painstakingly to pull myself upright through the lingering Bliss haze. I yelp as the effort shoots a sharp pain through my left shoulder. A hand grabs the front of my jacket, pulling me up until I am on my knees. My eyes focus on yellow aviators.

I try to jerk away, but Joseph’s grasp is firm. Jacob stands behind him at attention, silently watching me. Pratt stands just behind him with his head down. I look back at Joseph, wishing the Bliss aftereffects would dissipate faster. “You were going to let me burn,” I whisper, voice shaking. Jacob doesn’t move, but his eyes narrow a fraction of an inch.

He must not have been aware of that.

“I had to see what God’s will for you was. I had to know who you were,” Joseph says, staring into my soul through those fucking sunglasses. “I’m not sorry for that. Although knowing your past, I am sorry it had to happen the way it did. How is your PTSD? Any panic attacks or nightmares?”

“Don’t fucking talk to me like you care,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.

“But I do care. More than you know.” I tense, afraid he is telling the truth. “You still believe in my Word.” It isn’t a question.

I hold his gaze and nod before lowering my head, resting my forehead against the bars. The cold metal feels good against my hot skin. “Yes.”

“And yet you still fight us.”

“It’s all I know how to do. All I can do,” I confess, unable to speak anything other than the truth when it comes to Joseph. Old habits die hard. “I might believe in you, but I still don’t think your methods are correct.”

He blinks slowly, and a small smile pulls at the corners of his lips. “But you still love your husband,” Joseph says. I look up over his shoulder to find Pratt watching me through his lashes with a confused look as Jacob stiffens. “Despite what he is putting you through.”

My eyes meet Jacob’s, and warmth spreads in my chest, painfully constricting my heart with a longing I have kept locked away for three years. “Yes,” I whisper, holding his gaze as I finally answer the question he asked me so many nights ago in the forest.

Pratt’s eyes go wide as he puts two and two together, and Jacob’s eyes flare, his breath hitching in his chest.

Joseph turns my face with a finger. “That is good,” he says, pausing a moment. “Now, where is my nephew?” he asks. “The promised son?”

I start to shake, holding onto the bars for dear life as I whisper, “Dead.” Joseph’s eyes harden, but he doesn’t have to ask me to explain. “Premature. Stillborn.” A single tear escapes my eye.

“Our actions have consequences,” Joseph whispers, loud enough for only me to hear.

I scream, but it is in agony, not anger, because he is right. I dissolve into tears before him, and Jacob shifts on his feet. Joseph pushes a stray piece of hair affectionately behind my ear before placing the back of his hand to my forehead with a frown. “You are feverish,” he says. “Why?”

I blink through my tears and offer him my arm through the bars, fighting the stiffness from the wound in my shoulder. His brow furrows before he understands, gently pushing my sleeves up to reveal the bandage wrapped around my forearm, stained with dirt and blood. Jacob steps forward, unfettered anger on his face because, of course, he knows.

Joseph’s thin fingers delicately unwrap the gauze, revealing the swollen, inflamed, and very much infected ‘Pride’ on my arm. Small red veins are beginning to spiderweb out from the edges. “Your own hand?” he asks, wrapping it back up.

“Yes, but I was dumb,” I say weakly. “I didn’t take care of it like I should have. I was too focused on destroying John’s shit,” I say, managing a small laugh.

“Becoming wrath?” Joseph asks, unenthused. “You shouldn’t give in to sin. John was wrong for that, and he will be dealt with. But now you will suffer the consequences of listening to him.”

Joseph looks up at Jacob, but Jacob shakes his head, saying, “She needs medical attention now. She is showing signs of blood poisoning.”

Joseph stands, placing a hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “She will run her trials, and then she will be tended to. We have the meds to help her, but she has a lesson to learn first.”

Jacob’s nostrils flare as Joseph squeezes his shoulder tightly. “She will survive,” Joseph whispers.

I slump against the bars, cradling my arm. I look up through my tears as Jacob pulls the music box from his pocket. “No,” I whimper, falling onto my ass and scuttling away from him. Jacob’s eyes are hard, but I see the cracks. “Please,” I beg. Please.

But the music plays, and the red haze takes over. I turn over onto my hands and knees with a cry, trying to fight it, but my arms give out, and I collapse into crimson sparkles.

The trials are the same, yet different. The maze is larger and takes longer to navigate. And the pain is real. I must have run these trials a dozen times, getting weaker and weaker with each round until I finally got knocked on my ass by a woman with a knife.

But I didn’t stay down, and she didn’t stay alive.

The final target falls from a bullet between the eyes, and I collapse to my knees with a groan. I don’t wake up in a chair. Through the fugue state and fever, an ache spreads through my side. I look down to find a gash across my ribs, seeping blood.

I groan, falling back against the wall as I study the blood on my hands with blurred vision. It’s real. Hurried footsteps pull me from the blood, and Jacob appears, kneeling in front of me, Pratt on his heels.

His hand goes to my forehead, and he scowls. “That was a damn good job, baby. Come on,” he says, and scoops me off the floor bridal style without another word. My head drops against his chest, and I breathe in the scent of blood and ash on his jacket. “Door, Peaches,” Jacob orders, his voice rumbling through his chest against my cheek.

Pratt opens the door to a hallway as sparkles and red tinges at the edge of my vision tell me I’m not out of the shit yet. But as it fades, the pain increases, and I don’t want to feel it. Jacob sits me down on the couch in his office.

Exactly the same all these years later.

I look up at him as he unzips my jacket and pushes it off my shoulders. The green sweater underneath reveals a shocking amount of blood from both the knife and the arrow. He pulls it over my head, leaving me in my tank top. A hastily placed gauze pad is stained red where the arrow was removed, but it’s the least of my problems. He guides me backward onto a pillow, his calloused fingers a welcome memory against my skin.

But he was always the warm body. Now, against my skin, he is cold.

I’m burning up.

Pratt works behind Jacob, pulling out gauze, sutures, and other supplies from a med bag, all the while avoiding my gaze. “Look at me, sweetheart,” Jacob says, shining a pin-light into my eyes. I shrink away with a groan. “Her pupils are blown to shit,” he tells Pratt. “Give me that antibiotic shot from the fridge.”

There is a sharp pinch in my arm as Jacob injects the medicine, eliciting a hiss from me, but I know I need it, so I stay still. “Good, girl,” Jacob breathes, handing Pratt the empty syringe. “Gonna get you stitched up, and then I’m going to look at that arm of yours.”

I don’t have the energy to nod, so I blink at him slowly. I watch him work, cleaning the blood from my side with thinly veiled anger in his eyes. But it isn’t toward me, or Pratt. Joseph. Possibly John, too. “This will sting,” he warns, and pours antiseptic over the gash. I cry out, arching away from him.

His hand splays out across my chest to hold me down. He leans over me, catches my eyes in his. “Listen to me, sweetheart.” I go still as his breath caresses my face. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I didn’t want this.”

I nod, tears burning my eyes as the needle punctures my skin, and he begins to stitch up my side. “Peaches,” Jacob says, pausing in his work. “Hold her feet. She is moving too much.”

Am I?

“Yes, sir,” Pratt mutters, and then his hands are around my ankles.

Tears stream down my cheeks by the time Jacob finishes the stitches, and I’m not entirely sure why. I moan in pain as Jacob gently grabs my chin, turning me to look into his eyes. The sea of blue threatens to drown me, but something holds me above the waves. “Stay with me a little longer,” he whispers. “Gonna sit you up and wrap you.”

Pratt holds me upright as Jacob wraps gauze around my waist. My head rolls to the side, landing on Pratt’s bony chest. I stare up at his bruised face. He is healing, but the split lip is fresh. I vaguely wonder what he did to receive it.

“Lay her back down,” Jacob says, and Pratt obeys.

“Now, we gotta clean that arm. It’s gonna hurt like a bitch, but I’ll make Pratt sit on you if I gotta to keep you still,” Jacob warns, but I’m fading in and out. There are faint voices from somewhere, but I can’t make them out, along with other sounds that don’t seem like they belong here.

He cuts the bandage from my arm. “Jesus, sweetheart,” he mutters, getting an up-close look at it.

I turn my head to look at him. “You think my pride will finally kill me?” I ask, voice barely audible.

“Not if I can help it,” Jacob says through gritted teeth. He gently dabs antiseptic on my arm with a clean cloth, softening dried blood and pus so he can wipe it away.

“It hurts,” I whimper. Pratt’s hands are back on my ankles, holding me still.

“I told you it would,” Jacob says quietly, focusing on the task at hand.

“Do you have Bliss?” I mumble.

“Yes, but you are in no state for any. You can do this,” Jacob says, and I grit my teeth as fresh tears fall from my eyes.

“Do you smell smoke?” I ask.

Jacob looks up, brow raised. “Smoke?”

“Burning fuel,” I specify. My heart rate spikes as a sense of familiarity plagues my mind.

Jacob shakes his head. “Peaches?”

“No, sir.” His fingers gently squeeze my ankles as he finally looks at me.

I breathe deeply through my nose, trying to ignore the smell and the voices becoming louder.

“Done,” Jacob says, and I look at him, confused.

“Already?” I ask, but I don’t think he can understand me. I must have blacked out.

I look around to find Pratt watching me, a million questions in his eyes, but Jacob says, “You’re dismissed, Peaches,” and he looks away.

“Will she be okay?” Pratt asks.

Jacob is silent. “Eventually. Now, get out.”

“Yes, sir,” he says, scampering out of the office. He manages one last glance toward me as he shuts the door.

“Now probably isn’t the best time to ask,” Jacob says, cleaning up the bloody supplies, “but was there ever anything between you two?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. I clear my throat, trying to make my voice louder. “Harmless flirting,” I say, trying to focus on his face. His eyes darken. “We were bored,” I say, closing my eyes. “Who is screaming?” I ask after a moment, opening my eyes to find the anger fade to question in his eyes.

“No one is screaming,” he says, tilting his head as if to listen.

My eyes flutter shut. “The smoke is getting thicker,” I murmur.

“Oh, shit,” he says, something dawning on him. He grabs me by the shoulders. “Look at me,” he says harshly, shaking me a little. I force my eyes open, but a wall of fire appears behind Jacob’s head, and I gasp.

“You’re hallucinating,” he says. He grabs his radio. “Joseph!” he nearly yells into it.

“Something wrong?” Joseph’s voice responds lazily.

“I need blood. A+ or O- from the clinic as soon as possible. Evie is going into septic shock,” he snarls. “And stronger antibiotics. I know you have them.”

I don’t hear what else is said as I finally recognize the screams—burning bodies in a forgotten desert. Crushed limbs. Blood. Jacob’s arms are around me, lifting me upright to slide in behind me.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he says, pulling me into his chest as his legs wrap around mine like a weighted blanket. “Where are you?” he asks into my ear.

My head falls back against his shoulder, and I look up to find worried blue crystals in a sea of fire. “Desert,” I whisper. “Their screams.” I close my eyes, folding in on myself. Jacob’s arms wrap around me, and for the first time in months—years—I feel safe in the midst of hell.

“I don’t want to see it,” I whimper. “Not again.”

Chapter Text

“I’ve spent days listening to her relive her worst memories because of an infection you wouldn’t let me treat before sending her through hell.” Jacob’s voice brings me back to consciousness—and he is pissed.

My eyes open to find him standing between Joseph and me. Joseph looks flustered. “She has run them perfectly otherwise. If she would stop fighting against us, it would be so much easier,” Joseph says.

“It is not that simple,” Jacob says through gritted teeth.

“Isn’t it?” John asks, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed, looking a little put off. A piece of gauze peeks out from under his rolled-up sleeve at his elbow, and I can only imagine what he has been up to.

John’s eyes meet mine, and he straightens, alerting Jacob. He turns, dropping to my side. His hand touches my face, and his hands are warm. I lean into his touch, closing my eyes with a deep breath. I don’t know what happened, but I know I’m not seeing flames, smelling smoke, or drowning in the Henbane anymore. I will be content for the moment.

“The transfusion and antibiotics worked,” Joseph says coldly. “Are you losing your faith as well? I told you she would survive.”

Jacob turns to him. “She did, but you didn’t have to let her almost die to prove your fucking point,” he growls.

“Language—” Joseph starts to say, but John steps between them.

“She did almost die, Joseph. Can you really fault him for being angry?” he asks, becoming the diplomatic one of the trio for once. I’m shocked. “Give Jacob some time to calm down, and then revisit this conversation. I’m sure it will be much more profitable for all involved.” John shrugs, turning to wink at me. “Maybe Faith will make it to the next one.” He turns back to face Joseph, and I realize he is talking about the new girl, not me, as he says, “You hold her opinion in high regard, do you not?” The man is playing lawyer, and he is good at it.

If it were anyone other than Joseph, he would have him in his pocket.

“You are in no position to talk at the moment, John. Stay out of it,” Joseph chastises.

Someone is in trouble.

The look on John’s face makes me speak up. “How about all of you shut the fuck up,” I say, pushing myself up on the couch. “My head is pounding. Either give me something for the pain or get out. I don’t want to listen to it. I’m pissed at all of you for a variety of reasons.”

Jacob’s got a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, but Joseph looks like a disappointed father. “I assume you can fix a headache?” he asks Jacob mockingly. Jacob clenches his jaw and nods. “Keep me updated. You know what the mission is, and it will be a cold day in hell before I let her pull you from your path.” There is a veiled threat in his words, but frankly, I’m not sure what mission he speaks of, or what he could possibly do with me if I’m supposed to live.

Jacob sighs, and there is a defeated droop to his shoulders as Joseph turns, pulling John along. “I’m glad you didn’t die,” John says as he exits. “You are still my favorite. I’m glad I didn’t bleed for nothing,” he smiles at me over his shoulder, and disappears with a wave.

“What does that mean?” I ask, quirking a brow at Jacob.

He scratches the back of his head, looking anywhere but at me. “The clinic was out of blood. You and John are, like I said, basically the same fucking person. You even have the same blood type, so he offered himself up to save you,” he admits sheepishly. I stare at him, speechless. “I’ll be right back,” Jacob says, slipping out of his office.

I stand and go to the full-length mirror on the wall, trying to fathom John being selfless enough for a moment to save my life. Because he loves you, too. I swat away the thought and look at myself. I’m in another of my old shirts, a black, cropped tank top with yellow USMC across the chest.

I forgot about this one. One of my favorites.

The gauze wrapped around my ribs peeks out from the edge of the shirt. The neckline is high enough that I have to move it to find the arrow wound in my shoulder, but the bandage is fresh, as is the one covering my forearm. I poke at my leg injury. It’s sore but healing. A fresh bandage covers it, too.

Maybe Tammy can stitch the hole.

Jacob comes back, and I turn to greet him. His eyes are hard, but a smile spreads across his lips. “Glad to see you standing.”

“How long have I been out for?” I ask. He hands me a glass of water and two extra-strength migraine pills.

“Almost three days,” he says, voice gruff. “You hallucinated for about a day and a half before the antibiotics started working, and we were able to flush out the worst of the infection with the transfusion from John before he passed out.”

I take the pills and empty the cup. “Thank you,” I say. “What mission is Joseph so adamant about?” I ask, trying to ignore thoughts of John.

Jacob looks up at me and starts pacing. “Null and void, if I have the final say.”

“So, that’s a ‘I’m not telling you.’ Got it,” I say, grinding my teeth.

Jacob halts his pacing, and I freeze under his gaze. “I would tell you anything if I thought it would be for the best. But it isn’t. Not this time. The less you know, the better.”

“But I could help,” I argue, taking a step toward him.

“To help, you need to get as far away from here as you can, as soon as possible. The Henbane would be safest,” he says softly, slowly approaching me. “You know the area better than anyone, even Faith. She is usually too busy frolicking through the flowers and buttering Joseph up to explore.”

“Are they a thing?” I ask. “Joseph and Faith.”

“I’m honestly not sure. It wouldn’t surprise me,” he says, stopping in front of me. “She is a little young for him, though.”

“People could say the same about us,” I say, placing a hand on his chest over his heart. Strong and steady, like him. He looks down at me. He waits and watches until I reach up and caress his cheek with my other hand, my eyes going to his lips.

He leans down, our lips touching gently, but only for a moment. He scoops me up and sets me on the counter along the wall, bringing my face closer to his. My legs wrap around him, and I bury my face in his chest, breathing in the scent of spruce and peppermint soap.

The ash is gone. It wasn’t real.

He kisses the top of my head, stroking my hair until I look back up at him. He descends on my lips and presses me further onto the counter with his hips. He grabs my braid, gently tilting my head backward to claim my throat, nipping at the soft skin under my ear.

I sigh in pleasure, arching my chest into him. I open my eyes to find Pratt staring straight at me, and he is blushing. My heart skips a beat, and all I can do is look back at him before Jacob tries to claim my lips again. I pull away, looking pointedly at Jacob.

“What?” he asks, voice low.

“I think you made your point,” I whisper, tilting my head in Pratt’s direction.

He smirks. “Peaches,” he says.

“Yes, sir?” Pratt responds, voice tense.

“Go make sure the rounds are done,” Jacob says, looking over his shoulder at the man as one hand trails down my side and the other caresses my neck. My head falls back as warmth pools in my core at Jacob’s demanding tone.

Pratt says, “Yes, sir.”

“I told you it was harmless flirting,” I say, relishing the feeling of his rough thumb against my skin.

So jealous.

“And I made sure he knows you are mine.” A low rumble in his chest sends a shiver through me, and I gasp as his hand tightens around my throat. His mouth descends on mine again, all tongue and teeth.

My hands fist in his jacket as I pull him closer with my legs, moaning into his mouth as I feel him against me. And then he pulls away, his heart racing in time with mine. “You need to leave now, or I won’t be able to let you go,” he says breathlessly.

“But where—?”

“The Sheriff is at the jailhouse. You should go there. It’s well fortified, and your pyro friend has been raising hell in your stead. Faith hasn’t been able to take it, no matter how hard she tries,” he says, leaning his forehead against mine and closing his eyes, trying to steady his breathing.

“And what are you going to do?” I ask quietly, watching him as I stroke the side of his neck.

His voice is barely more than a whisper, like the walls have ears, and it’s our secret. “Trying to protect you from Joseph without him figuring out what I’m doing.” He opens his eyes, capturing me in the depths of a war raging between protecting me and loyalty to his brother.

My heart stutters. “Because telling him to fuck off still isn’t something you are willing to do?” I ask, just as quietly.

“You know it isn’t that simple.”

“It could be,” I breathe, brushing my lips against his scarred cheek.

He sighs deeply—sadly. “Maybe if we could get out of this fucking county, but we are stuck here. For better, or for worse.”

He is just as stubborn as I am, so I know I can’t talk him into anything. I ask, “Can I still destroy shit?”

“As long as you don’t get yourself killed in the process,” he says, smirking. “My little hellcat,” he says, claiming my mouth once more. With a groan, he stops himself as his hand reaches my breast, and I bite his bottom lip. “I could eat you alive, right now. But you need to go before Pratt gets done. I know a way out where you won’t be seen.”

To say I’m disappointed is an understatement, but he is right. I need to go. Now. Before we make things more difficult.

I have to stop by the Wolf’s Den to grab the rest of my things from my bunk and let everyone know I’m alive. Thankfully, Jacob gave me back all the gear I had on me when the Chosen took me—including the bow John had. The little shit must be trying to get back in my good graces after trying to drown me.

Carl happily buys back the AR-CL and extra pistol, so I have a little cash on hand for the road, but Eli isn’t happy about me leaving—again.

“Jess shows up freaking out about you getting taken, again, with a bullet graze on the side of her leg where you made her run, by shooting at her. You are gone for almost a week, and you come back wrapped up like a mummy. But you want to head back out immediately?” he asks, pacing behind me as I pack up my stuff.

“It’s just for a little bit,” I say. “I’m gonna wreck some of Faith’s shit and draw the fire away from the mountains.”

“No one asked you to do that,” Eli says, grabbing me by the arm and spinning me around to face him.

I grit my teeth against the uncomfortable stiffness of the arrow wound with the movement and glare at him. “No one had to. It’s getting too hot up here, and you said it yourself—we need to regroup.”

“With you,” he hisses. “Is this you or something else?” he asks, voice dropping to a whisper as he adds, “And not anything to do with you showing back up here every time in your old clothes that Jacob clearly hung onto?”

“I make my own damn decisions,” I say. “And he might as well make use of them if he is going to keep running me like a mouse through a maze and ruining whatever I show up in.”

Eli doesn’t seem to have anything to say about that, but he isn’t deterred. “We only have a way of reversing the first stage of conditioning, and we didn’t even get to complete that with you,” he admits, looking defeated.

I blink at him. “So, I’m broken?” I ask, shoving the last of my things angrily into my bag.

“That’s not what I said, but you aren’t acting like yourself. You’ve got a manic glint in your eyes, and you don’t look nearly as bad as you did the first time we got you back. Hell, you look healthy, despite the bandages.”

“So, I need to be on death’s door for you to trust me?” I ask, closing my bag and gingerly shrugging the strap over my shoulder so as not to hit any sore spots. It’s like playing Tetris to get my quiver and bow strapped to me without ripping stitches.

Eli rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say that either. Stop assuming shit. We need you up here,” he says, pointing at the ground.

I turn on him, throwing my hands up. “Everyone needs my fucking help, if you haven’t noticed. And I haven’t been to the jail at all since I got thrown into this mess. I sent fucking Sharky to put out the fires when you know damn well he is only good at setting them. You’ve been a little stingy with my presence.”

“Just let her go, Eli,” Tammy says, coming around the corner. “She’ll be back. She likes Wheaty too much to stay away for long.” She hands me my freshly laundered and stitched jacket and pants. “Or his music. I don’t know which.”

“It can be both,” I say with a smirk, taking the jacket. “And thanks, you didn’t have to wash or fix this. It’s kinda shredded to hell.” I turn my back on her. “Shove the pants in there?” I ask, pointing at my bag.

“You seem attached to it,” she shrugs, tucking the pants into the top of my bag.

“It’s hard to find nice jackets these days,” I laugh. “But I would’ve survived.”

“Great, let’s just change the subject,” Eli mutters. “Fine. Do whatever you want,” he says, and storms out.

I sigh deeply, wrapping the jacket around my waist. “What’s up with him?”

“Briggs disappeared a few days after you, and we can’t find him. We assume Jacob has him, and he knows a lot of shit. If Jacob breaks him, he will spill all our secrets.”

“Let me guess—he wanted me to go find him?” I ask sardonically.

“He had hoped—once you were back on your feet. Which you apparently are. May I ask how?” Tammy asks, leaning against the bunk support with her arms crossed.

“Good medical attention,” I admit. “Being the Harbinger of the Collapse has its perks when dying would make Joseph a liar.”

“Seriously?” Tammy asks, raising a brow at me.

“I wouldn’t have made it back this time otherwise,” I admit quietly. She doesn’t have to know the logistics, but it is nice to tell someone the truth.

“So, Joseph is still a liar,” she smirks.

Smiling, I say, “Make of it what you want,” with a shrug. “I just wish they’d all fuck off. I’m tired.”

“Will do. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you are still alive,” Tammy says, giving me a genuine smile. “Be careful in the Henbane. Faith’s region is full of mindfucks.”

I would know.