“Get up.” Caz’s voice is gruff. I try looking up at him, but he’s not clear. A cloud of dust surrounds us, and I’ve landed outside the back of Beatrix’s house. I push up on my hands, cough, then wince from a sharp pain in my upper thigh.
“Ow! Shit,” I hiss. I look down and a piece of metal is stuck there. It’s ripped through my pants. Blood drips from the wound it’s created, and the sight of it instantly makes me nauseous.
“Oh my God,” I breathe out shakily. “It—it’s stuck in my leg.”
“Can you move at all?” Caz demands. “We have to move.”
“No, I can’t fucking move! I have a piece of metal stuck in my fucking leg, Caz!”
“Give us a look.” He lowers to a squat to examine it. “If I remove it, you’ll bleed more.” He sighs and stands, but then there’s a loud bang. I gasp, and Caz whips his head up to find the source of the noise. Another bang goes off, and he ducks, cursing beneath his breath.
“It’s the fucking Rippies!” a deep voice shouts from a distance. It sounds like Killian. “They’ve brought a fucking tank!”
“Shit,” Caz curses again, side-eyeing me. I can tell he’s tempted to leave me here. I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. He looks from me to study his surroundings.
“What the hell is happening?”
“What’s it look like? We’re under attack by the fucking Rippies.”
“What is with your family and these fucking Rippies?” I try to bend my knee but wince again and hiss through my teeth. It’s useless. I can’t move my leg or bend it without pain searing through it.
Love of Vakeeli! Of course, this would happen right now! We get this close and those bloody Rippies come to fuck it all up. And I can’t just leave her here. They’ll enslave her for sure.
“Enslave me?” My eyes stretch wide as I stare into his eyes.
“Stay out of my fucking head,” he growls, pointing a stern finger at me, then he grips my arm and helps me stand. I cry from the pain, not surprised that my reaction is a swift punch to his chest. “I know you’re in pain right now, but I told you, we have to move. We’re sitting ducks here.”
“I—I can hardly walk,” I say as he turns and starts walking anyway.
“Hardly is better than not at all.”
I grimace as more gunshots sound off. To my left, I spot Alora and Proll running toward a line of trees. She’s holding handfuls of her dress as she runs, and when she glances back at me, her eyes widen and her lips part. Ahead of them is Beatrix, who is covered in debris, her hair even grayer from it, and isn’t slowing down for anyone.
“Up ahead,” Caz says. He eyes me, and with a huff he rushes back to drape my arm around his shoulder and assist me. We’re getting closer to the trees. We can hide, and maybe we’ll be safe.
Well, that’s what I think until Caz’s grip loosens around me. He grunts, and I fall to the ground as he stumbles forward. A cry breaks from my lungs as I land on the damn piece of metal again.
“Fuck!” I scream, flopping onto my back and gripping my thigh.
I turn my head to see what the hell just happened, and Caz is standing just a few steps away. There’s a trickle of blood dripping down the back of his head that wasn’t there before. He’s facing a man in a distressed brown fedora who’s holding a thick, black club. Caz glares at the club before staring into the man’s eyes.
“If you’re going to have the audacity to hit me,” Caz growls, “At least be smart about it and finish the job.”
“Oh, shut up, you pussy,” the man snarls at him, and he’s missing teeth. A lot of them, clearly, because his words sound like they’re coming out the mouth of a snake. The man withdraws a gun from his holster, but before he can lift it in the air, Caz reaches for the club to distract him. The man punches him, but Caz eats the blow, tackling him to the ground and pouncing on top of him.
Picking up the club, Caz raises it in the air and brings it down, hitting the man in the face with it repeatedly. Blood spatters onto his clothes and his face, the whack, whack, whack getting louder and louder. Even so, Caz doesn’t stop. He hits him so many times the man’s face is nothing but a bloody pulp by the time he’s done.
Tossing the club aside, Caz pulls himself to a stand before picking up the gun the man had and pointing it at his chest. Two loud bangs sound off, two bullets through the man’s chest, and Caz steps away, tucking the gun in his back pocket before using the forearm of his jacket to wipe away some of the blood from his face.
He then turns to me, offering a bloody hand. This is the third time I’ve seen his ruthless side, and each time has gotten worse. What the hell will it be next time? Slicing someone’s skin off bit by bit?
“Let’s go,” he orders. I clutch his hand, allowing him to help me up. We stagger toward the trees as more guns pop off.
“What about the others?” I ask.
“They know how to protect themselves. This is a regular day for us.”
“A regular day? Are you serious?”
He says nothing as he helps me through the forest. The banging noises echo before fading, but Caz doesn’t stop, and I’m curious if he knows where the hell we’re going or if he’s just moving as far away from the chaos as possible.
The pain in my leg is becoming numb, and I don’t think that’s a good sign. What if I lose my leg? No, I can’t lose my leg here! I never asked to come to this place.
“Can we stop to check my leg? Maybe we can take it out now,” I insist.
“I’d advise against that. I take it out now, and you’ll probably bleed to death before we make it somewhere safe.”
“How do you know?”
“I can tell,” he says. “It’s too close to your artery.”
“Well, I’m not sure I can walk much longer.”
“Do your best.”
“Do you even know where we’re going?”
He ignores me, and I stop walking.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Where are we going?” I demand.
“Would you just come on?”
“Listen, I’m in a lot of fucking pain right now, I’m in a world I don’t belong in, and I’ve watched you and your family kill several people like their lives mean nothing to you! Tell me where we’re going or I’m not taking another step!”
He frowns at me as if I’ve lost my mind, and perhaps I have lost it because seriously. How can any of this be real? I’m convinced I’m still dreaming, and that I’m in a lucid state that’s hard to pull out of.
I don’t have time for this shit.
I fold my arms across my chest and raise a brow. And you think I do?
His gaze narrows, as if I’m challenging him. Maybe I am. I’m sick of this. The demands, the violence, all the damn pain! I’ve been in pain since I landed in this place, and it’s only been close to seventy-two hours.
“Fine. Have it your way.” Caz marches toward me and picks me up, cradling me in his arms. I fight against him: one because I don’t want him manhandling me, and two because I’m not your average-sized woman. I’m what they call thick on Earth. Despite it, he holds on tight, and I gasp when I feel like I’m about to fall, but his hands are secure around me.
“Put me down,” I snap. He’s going to drop me, I know it. I’m too heavy.
Shut up. His voice rings in my head. You’re not too heavy for me. Now be quiet before I toss you over my shoulder to press the metal deeper.
I huff a dry laugh. “You really are an asshole.”
Caz continues walking—I’m not sure for how long or how he manages to do the trek with me in his arms. As he does, the sky becomes darker, birds stop chirping, and I hear the sound of crickets.
He pushes through a thicket, takes a trail, and when he stops walking, we’re on a hilltop. Just down the hill is a small village. The buildings are white and brown with round windows, all about two to three stories maximum. I have no clue how the day just transitioned to night, but it’s dark in this area, the stars bright in the sky, twinkling with glee.
Gold bulbs of light are attached to the buildings, and they stand out in the darkness, giving a warmth that cools some of my anxiety. Several bonfires burn in the distance, spaced throughout the fields of grass, and people surround them, laughing, chatting. It’s all so…peaceful. Nothing like Blackwater or Vanora.
“Where are we?” I ask as Caz marches downhill. I can’t look away from this place. It’s magical, really. While Vanora has its own uniqueness and regality to it, this place gives more of a cottage core appeal. Everything is touched with green—green grass, green vines on the buildings, green trees planted on every corner. The buildings are neutral, the houses sturdy, surrounded by lush greenery. The streets are made of cobblestone, horse carriages are parked near the curbs.
“We’re in Whisper Grove,” Caz finally says. “Where they’ll have a bloody doctor who can take a look at your leg.”
Whisper Grove
