Horror rocketed through her entire body, replacing every other thought and emotion and instinct.
She scrambled for the stairs. Nick pulled her into the stairwell and slammed the door shut behind them. Grasping her arm, he tugged her with him as he moved up the steps, and this time, she didn’t fight him. “Don’t stop moving. Keep going. We’re almost free.”
Free…
The word was a ghost. A fantasy. A dream.
A lie.
Reality chilled every inch of her skin. She was never going to be free. Lykos had been right. She might escape these walls, but she would always be Zagreus’s prisoner. She’d made a deal with the devil, and one way or another, it would haunt her, forever.
Wet palm fronds slapped Nick across the face. Swiping the rain out of his eyes, he drew a deep breath of humid air while he waited for Cynna to catch up, then paused to look around.
They’d been on the move for well over an hour. Closer to two, he guessed. As soon as they’d come up those stairs from Zagreus’s lair, they’d found themselves shrouded in darkness with only a scattering of light from above to illuminate their way. Tall palms rose to the sky. Thick underbrush made it virtually impossible to move fast. He’d been captured in summer, which meant it had to be January now, but you’d never know by their surroundings. Insects hummed in the darkness. Every now and then the brush rustled. And the sounds combined with the heat, the humidity, the tropical foliage… It all told him they were in some kind of jungle. Where, though, he wasn’t sure.
He didn’t have a clue where the prisoners they’d released had gone. He’d heard voices as they’d wrestled their way through the jungle, but hadn’t seen a single soul. He also hadn’t heard any of Zagreus’s satyrs on their trail. A fact that set the scars on his back tingling with suspicion.
Heavy breaths sounded at his back. He turned as Cynna stepped up to his side, lowered the blade in her hand to the ground, and leaned against a tree. “I’m slowing you down.” She braced her hand at her side and sucked in another breath. “You should go on without me.”
Nick looked down at her hand, pressing into her left side under her ribs. A sprinkling of moonlight shone down, just enough to illuminate the thick redness coating her fingers. “You’re injured?”
“It’s nothing.”
He moved closer, pushed her hand away, and tugged the jacket from around her waist so he could see the torn fabric beneath.
“I said it’s nothing.”
He lifted the hem of her shirt. A two-inch, bloody gash cut across her side. “That’s not nothing.”
Wincing, she pulled back. Warm, red blood pooled from the wound. “I’ll…be fine.”
No, she wouldn’t be. Not if she didn’t get that tended. Conflicting emotions rippled through Nick. Yes, she’d overseen some of his worst torture in Zagreus’s caves, but she’d also freed him, something she didn’t have to do. And, clearly, she’d paid the price.
He lowered her shirt. “Where are we?”
Cynna cinched the coat tight around her waist once more, grimacing with the movement, then leaned back against the trunk of the tree. “The Yucatan. Belize.”
Central America. Motherfucker. That didn’t give them a lot of options.
Wisps of that odd blonde hair stuck to her temple and cheek. Her face was pale. From this angle, he could now see blood had soaked clear through her jacket. In another hour, she’d be too weak to walk, which meant putting more space between them and Zagreus was only going to get tougher.
“They’re not following,” he said.
Her breathing slowed, and her muscles tensed, but she didn’t open her eyes. “Yeah. I…I noticed.”
“What’s your take on that?”
“I’m not sure.”
Not sure. He didn’t believe that for a second. His internal alarms screamed she knew a hell of a lot more than she was saying.
He scanned the dark jungle. He had a choice. He could ditch her ass here, like she’d suggested, or keep her with him. The first made total sense, considering their history. He didn’t owe her a thing. But the second…
His scars tingled again, and something in his gut told him letting her go wasn’t the right choice. At least not yet.
He didn’t have time to argue with himself. He turned back to face her. “I need to get to a phone.”
“There’s a coastal highway that angles inland.” She drew another deep breath. “You’re bound to hit a village or two if you keep heading west.”
He grasped her weapon from the ground and slid it into the sheath at his back, took the extra knives she’d grabbed from the armory and left in her pockets and added them to his collection, then reached for her arm, pulling her away from the tree. “Come on.”
“What…?” Her dark eyes popped open, and surprise rippled over her features. “You’ll make better time without me.”
“I know.” Hooking her forearm over his shoulder, he wrapped his arm around her waist so she could lean on him, then started walking, forcing her along with him.