“Do you want me to carry you?” Lucas asks.
“I’m fine.” I bristle at myself as soon as I say it. Maybe I don’t want to be falling all over him, but I don’t want to be nasty either. Why can’t I ever find a happy medium with Lucas?
We head back through the woods toward camp without talking. I can just see the shape of my tent through the trees when Lucas stops suddenly, his hand coming up to slow me down. I open my mouth to ask, but Lucas shakes his head.
He’s listening to something. I cock my head. Voices inside the camp. Emily and Jude.
My fingers snag the side of his shirt, twist in a stranglehold. Are they in danger? Is there someone else there?
“I’m telling you, Darling means something.” Jude. Definitely Jude.
My fingers move to the word on my arm, nails scraping at the G.
“She didn’t do this,” Emily says softly. Gratitude blooms through my middle.
“But she wants Lucas,” he says. “Which means you can’t trust her either.”
Fire roars up my chest and neck even as my face goes cold. I move to storm up the path, to argue, but Lucas grabs me, squeezes my wrist, just a little. He’s still listening.
I can’t hear the first part of what Emily says, but the last few words are clearer.
“…really think he did this?”
“I think he could be involved. They wrote Dangerous on his arm because that’s what he is. He’s violent. Probably desperate. I think he did something to me when we tried to leave. I didn’t pass out for no reason.”
Emily’s muttering too low to hear again. I make out “Tyler” and “in three places,” but everything else is a jumble. I watch Lucas while I try to listen. His jaw clenches until I hear his teeth grind, but he is as still as stone. Waiting for the rest, I guess.
“I don’t know,” Jude says. “I’m just saying be careful.”
Quiet falls over the forest again. I expect Lucas to start walking, but the minutes stretch on, and my ears ache for some sort of noise. There’s nothing but wind and forest sound and, here and there, a long, shaky breath that belongs to the tall boy next to me.
I sigh and start to move forward, but Lucas leans in until his hair brushes my cheek and breathing becomes a thing I cannot do. His chin scrapes my cheek, and then he’s talking, so low I have trouble pulling the words apart.
“Tell me you don’t think I did this.” Every word is ice lit on fire over my ear and neck.
I nod without thinking about it, swallowing hard.
“Jude tried to blame you at first,” he says. “Now he’s moved on to me. Something’s going on with that. I don’t trust him.”
I nod again, and he leans back a few inches. Thank God. Everything feels spinny, and my face tingles.
I don’t know what to think. I don’t trust Jude either, but that’s not saying much. I don’t trust anyone here. My gaze drifts to Lucas’s mouth, reminding me I don’t trust myself either.
“We need to get back,” I whisper. “We need to tell them what we found.”
“Don’t be alone with him, Sera.”
I nod, though I can’t imagine a scenario where I would. But I’m alone with Lucas right now, aren’t I?
The letters on his arm catch my eye. Dangerous. It fits in more ways than one. If I’m afraid to be alone with any of them, it’s him.
Chapter 10
We go to bed in shifts, and I lie awake for hours, imagining the phantom buzz of flies. I didn’t enjoy our happy little camping adventure before bodies were left to rot by the river while we were violated in our tents. Now? Well, it isn’t really camping anymore, is it?
Emily rolls over. She was pretty quiet once we got into the tent, but I don’t know if she’s asleep. I thought things were better between us. Earlier today, we talked, even laughed a little. Then again, that was before she talked to Jude.
Is that why she’s gone quiet again? Is she afraid of me?
Neither she nor Jude said much when we told them about the bodies. But I caught them exchanging a careful look. Maybe they don’t believe us, or maybe they really think we’re involved. Whatever. We’re all getting paranoid, and Lucas is the biggest and scariest of the bunch, I guess.
Plus, I’m the one with the Lucas history here. I’m also the one who went with him earlier.
I try to push out my memories from the river, squeezing my eyes shut for the millionth time. My mind supplies images of vulture talons and a gooey bit dangling from a black beak. OK. No more closing my eyes. Maybe ever again.
The cold returned with the sunset, so I zipped myself tight into my sleeping bag. The fabric is sticking to my cut, which feels icky and probably looks even worse, but since I have all my fingers, I guess I shouldn’t gripe.
I turn to stare at Emily’s dark hair. I’m sure I can still hear the flies. Impossible. I know the buzz isn’t audible from here. I catalog other sounds to distract myself. Crickets and the low hoot of an owl. A branch snaps outside, and I jerk to attention. Is that the murderer?