“Yes, I do,” he admitted.
Jack recalled the woman’s broad features, her blood-red lips, her eyes. When he’d first seen her, he’d felt as if he had seen her somewhere else before, but for the life of him he couldn’t place where or how he could possibly know her. Once Aria had said Sabine’s name and that she thought it was her, it had all made sense to him. He’d seen Sabine in Atticus’s face every day. Seen those eyes, gleaming with malicious intent and those lips constantly curved into a mocking smile.
He now knew Atticus had not started out as a vicious bastard, but fate had twisted and molded him into one. Caleb, however, had always been vicious and so had Jack’s other sister, Natasha before she’d been killed. There had never been any good within either of them, as children or as adults. Jack sensed the same kind of wrongness in Sabine, the same twisted compulsion for cruelty that had always resided in Caleb and Natasha.
Max slid the key into the lock and turned it. The door creaked as it swung open to reveal the nearly empty supply room beyond. A few bags of grain were stacked on top of each other against the back wall. Judging by the moldy scent wafting from them, they had gone bad long ago. A crate was tucked against the back wall and some clothes were draped over a rock in the back.
“Guess no one saw the need to restock it,” Max said as he limped into the room toward the lone crate. He placed the torch against the wall, grasped the top of the crate, and pulled it off. He set it aside before exploring the contents of the crate. “Some bandages,” he said and pulled out strips of cloth, laying them across a nearby rock. “Stakes, blankets, furs, and what looks like a jug of wine.”
“I think we could all use some wine right now, and I’m not turning down any kind of weapon. I’ll carry the crate. You carry the clothes.”
Max walked over to the rock with the clothes on it and gathered them before heading for the door. Jack hefted the crate and followed him out of the room. Though there was nothing of use left within the store room, he closed the door behind him and listened as the lock clicked into place.
Max limped down the tunnel, placed the torch against the wall, and bent to retrieve the other key for the gate. He opened it up and stepped back to allow Jack to pass through first. Jack stepped into the cavern as Ashby descended the rocks with a fox in hand.
They wouldn’t be able to stay here forever, but they could make a stand in these caves and keep Braith protected until he healed enough to wake again. Jack knew there was a possibility Braith still might die; he just wasn’t ready to acknowledge it yet. Braith had made it this long after having an arrow pierce his heart. He’d make it longer.
Jack’s gaze went to Hannah as she rose to her feet from beside his brother. Her lower lip trembled, and tears streamed from her eyes as she gazed at him. The desolate look on her face froze him in place. The crate fell from his hands to crash against the rock. He didn’t recall covering the distance between them before he fell to his knees in front of Braith. Seizing his brother’s chin, he turned his head toward him, but even before Braith’s cloudy, open eyes met his, Jack knew his brother was gone.
CHAPTER 8
Aria
Aria’s body bent and her head fell back as if she’d been hit by a bolt of lightning. A wail of sorrow caught on the lump in her throat, choking her. Her hands flew to her chest. Her fingers clawed at her flesh, raking her skin open with her fingernails. Tears spilled from her eyes. Sounds she’d never heard before came from within her when she fell to her knees.
Blood pooled from her sliced flesh as she sought to get to her heart, to tear the shattered and broken organ from her body as shards of pain sliced like glass over her skin. Broken. Gone. Braith was gone. The connection had been severed as cleanly as she’d severed tangled fishing line over the years.
Her hands touched upon bone before they were yanked away from her body. Words were shouted at her; she didn’t hear them as someone hauled her to her feet and dragged her onward. She reached for her chest again. Those hands jerked her hands back, and more words were spoken, but she didn’t think these ones were directed at her and she didn’t care if they were.
She was dying. Nothing mattered anymore.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she recalled that something did matter. There was something she was supposed to do, others she was supposed to help, but the sorrow and insanity swirling through her mind made it difficult to concentrate.
She collapsed against the arms holding her and was swung up off the ground. She could barely make out the blurry world around her. When she lifted her hands once more to her chest, they were slapped aside.
“No!” William’s voice penetrated through her grief-stricken haze. “There are caves up here.”