9. Hunter

NINE

HUNTER

“ H unter, are you even listening?”

Leo and I have been working for hours now. The sun set not too long ago, and at some point, one of Misha’s staff stuck their head in the room, left, and returned with stone-fired pizza for us.

Leo throws what must be half a ream of paper in my direction, and it skids across the oak table of the war room.

Misha’s team, including Jared and Max, briefed us this morning about how and when The Legion compromised our secure data site. Despite all the safeguards we had in place, they practically waltzed in and took what they wanted.

Because they can.

But even facing all that information and the knowledge that my company is pretty much toast, I struggle to listen to Leo as he drones on about the fall of BwP.

So, for the last twelve hours, Leo and I have been figuring out where to go and how to move forward from here.

Even as the foundation of my last decade crumbles around me, all I can think about is August and Winter and my tiny new family.

“Yes, I’m paying attention,” I say, my voice gruff from staying silent for much of our meeting. Leo and I dove down a data rabbit hole about two hours ago, tracking down discrepancies.

But now he’s decided to talk to me. How long he’s been trying to get me out of my daze is a mystery, though.

“Sorry, I was thinking about something with August,” I offer him as an excuse. Closing my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose as I try to prioritize things in order of importance.

I ran into Ella and August while walking here with Leo. August looked well, as did Ella, but I didn’t get any words out before August launched himself into my arms.

I held him for a long minute before whispering just for him to hear, “Are you okay?”

Thinking it a dumb, dumb question to ask—because of course he isn’t okay—I nearly choked with relief when he slowly nodded his head as he lay his face against my chest.

“The chef has loads and loads of Eggos and Cheese-Itz for you,” I stage-whisper. That caused him to jump back, and as if we hadn’t shared the tender moment, he rushed down the hallway, Ella following behind him with a soft smile.

I can’t believe how much time I wasted staying out of August’s life in some misguided attempt to keep him safe. I’d justified staying away—I knew that if my father caught on to just how much he meant to me, he’d destroy him. I let fear be a driver in my decisions.

But now, my father is dead, and even from the grave, he’s managed to taint August’s life.

I’d kill Benjamin Brigham again if I could for so many reasons, but especially for how he’s harmed my son.

What matters most right now is my family. There are several other things ahead of BwP, which is at the bottom of my list.

“Earth to Hunter,” Leo barks. “Do you even fucking care what’s going on?”

Leo runs an agitated hand through his hair. He wears a five o’clock shadow, and the dark circles beneath his eyes suggest that he’s not slept well.

If at all.

I look down at the reports Leo has collected. This would have taken time to create.

“Of course I care,” I say. I try to keep the look of guilt off my face. “The situation doesn’t give me warm fuzzies, but what do we do? They have our goddamn technology.”

Leo sighs, putting his face in his hand. “Okay, since you clearly haven’t been listening to me, let me give you the CliffsNotes version.”

I grimace.

“With Panacea not passing the FDA and now being in the hands of these fuckers, you do realize we can’t move forward, right? Not that it’s even possible to move forward, given that we’re hiding in the Ukrainian’s safe house.”

His words hit me in the gut. BwP means more to Leo than it does to me. It always has. So the fact that he’s saying this is the end….

“So you’re really giving up on it?” I try to keep all judgment out of my voice.

“No, everyone else has given up on us. We can expect some lawsuits from investors to roll down sometime in the next few months.”

I make a rough sound in my chest, and Leo rubs his eyes.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” I ask him, making a show of flipping through the pages. I pick up the Mont Blanc pen just to give my hands something else to do.

“Could you sleep?” Leo shakes his head, continuing before I can respond. “No, I did not. There’s too much to do.”

I grunt in response.

Rubbing my top lip with my thumbnail, I commit to focusing on Leo for the next half hour. Then I’ll go to Winter. She’ll know what to do with August.

She always does.

So why can’t I trust her to share the burden of the rest of it?

When the door claps open and Misha, Max, and…Amelia walk in, I raise an eyebrow as I stare at them but don’t move otherwise.

“Problem?” Leo asks, his voice gruff.

Max moves to the screen where Amelia presented information about The Legion yesterday. Was it only yesterday?

It feels like forever ago.

“What’s going on?” Leo says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Luna walks in a moment later.

“Has the press conference started?” she says as she grabs a chair. She falls into the seat at the head of the table and kicks her legs up to rest on the top of it. She crosses them at the ankle.

Max fumbles with the control, and the screen lights up. My jaw goes slack when two people appear on the screen.

“Deep fake, right?” Leo asks, not turning to look at Max, who practically bounced to his favorite spot at the wall of computers behind us.

“Yeah…” Max replies. The way he answers causes me to spin in my chair to assess him. He doesn’t look giddy. Instead, he tilts his head and stares at the screen.

I frown but spin back to face the table and speak up.

“Are we sure Blair is dead?”

“As a doornail,” Luna drawls. “In fact, her body is in our morgue right now.”

I blink. “Here?”

My brain spasms at the knowledge that they have a morgue on site.

Luna rolls her neck to look at me over her shoulder. “Bless your heart,” she says, the saccharine words falling from her lips.

I give her a closed-mouth grin that I’m sure telegraphs my thought, which is, fuck you.

Morris Winthrope looks commanding and serious in his blue suit and complementary blue and gold tie. Standing behind a sleek glass podium, it’s no mistake that the backdrop behind him mirrors that of the official seal of the Oval Office.

With his hair slicked back, he looks presidential.

“Hell if that ain’t some optics,” Max says, his voice full of awe. But I bet it’s not from Winthrope’s presence on the screen.

It’s because Blair stands to the left of her father, just one step behind—and because the label at the bottom of the screen shows that this is a live feed.

“There’s technology that can do that?” I say to Max.

“There’s technology to do everything,” he throws back. He leans forward with his elbows on his knees, hands hanging down and with rapt attention on the screen.

“Quiet,” Misha commands, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes just because I hate him.

And I do. I hate Misha Hroshko.

Returning my gaze back to Morris Winthrope and the Blair look-a-like, I quiet myself to listen to the man’s speech.

“Our country is under attack, and the everyday American is the victim. Policies which have been enacted under the guise of social progress only serve to do one thing—to rid the world of our American identity,” Winthrope says, and I feel vaguely nauseous when Blair nods in somber agreement on the screen.

“There are several truths that are immutable at this moment in history. One, that we are called to take drastic steps to ensure the safety and sovereignty of our great nation, and two, the American populace is tired of fighting for this exact right.”

Blair gives a delicate, silent clap as the crowd cheers. The camera pans to the audience, and there must be at least two thousand people filling the stadium.

“We must be mad, literally mad, as a nation to permit this great erasure to continue. And as I look to the future of the greatest nation on the planet, I’m filled with foreboding. Because we are on a path of clear destruction—destruction of the American identity.”

The crowd goes positively feral as I listen to Winthrope spew his nationalist rhetoric.

“It is time for all Americans who see the bigger picture to unify our nation and march into the future. And it is with this goal in mind—the goal of reversing the damning course of destruction our country is on—that I proudly announce my candidacy for president of the United States.”

Winthrope steps back from the podium, his practiced smile plastered to his face. He takes Blair’s hand, and I lean forward to watch their movements as they wave to the crowd and trek toward the exit.

As the camera zooms out, the words “Picture a Better America” flash on the screen behind them.

The commentator’s voice comes back on. He only gets three words out before Misha turns off the screen.

We’re all silent for several tense seconds.

I’m the first to clear my throat.

“Well, we knew that was coming,” I say.

Misha gives Amelia and Luna an unreadable look.

“What am I missing?” I ask, my voice dropping low.

Luna releases a deep breath while Amelia crosses her arms over her chest and looks out the open door.

“That was a complete declaration of war against us,” Luna says.

“And a signal that they’re ready for the next step,” Misha adds. “A call to arms for all the Engineers, Designers, and Legion hopefuls.” He runs his hand through his hair, and for the first time, he looks agitated.

“How was that a declaration of war?” I grind out, casting my gaze around the room.

Misha blows out a breath, but Luna is the one who speaks.

“Well, the first bright, shining symbol was the campaign slogan,” she says. “‘Picture a Better America’ is very close to the statement that all Engineers echo from The Architect: They ‘see’ the bigger picture.”

I shake my head, still not drawing all the connections.

“Nonetheless, his announcing a run for the presidency isn’t news to anyone, but we have intel that’s confident that the announcement is the signal to the rest of the Engineers and the low-level Designers that the time has come to activate Elysium.” This all comes from Misha. He doesn’t look at anyone as he speaks. Instead, he stands with his palms flat on the tabletop as his eyes scan the swirling patterns in the wood.

“So, should we go underground to avoid their plague? How much time do we have? Or should we just all say our last goodbyes?” I say, my tone derisive. I’m not trying to be an asshole, but fuck if everything just feels fucking hopeless.

“Not necessarily,” Misha says, lifting his head. “But it does mean that you need to get out of the fucking way and let us end this. It’s time to stop playing around, Hunter.”

A chill descends upon the room.

“I can appreciate the gravity of the situation. But you need to come up with alternative ideas that don’t include sending my sister into a den of psychopaths.”

Misha makes a rough sound in his chest. “ Our sister,” he grinds out.

I bark a laugh. “Our? Since fucking when? You don’t even know Ella. If you did, you wouldn’t feel so comfortable going along with this asinine plan.”

“Fuck!” The word bursts from Max’s lips, and he whirls around to face his computer, pulling Misha and me out of our stare off. “I just thought of something. Shit!”

Max continues to tap away at the computer, and when lines of code pop on the screen, we all move to stare over his shoulder. He lifts his hip and empties his pocket. Loose change, a toothpick, and what looks like a used cotton swab spill out on the table next to his keyboard, but he rummages through the mess until he finds a thumb drive.

“Erasure, erasure…Goddamn it, they’re clever,” Max says, his face going from serious to laughing, then back to serious in the span of a few seconds.

“Start talking in complete sentences, Max,” Leo says, staring hard at the man.

“Okay, so boom,” he says. “A year ago, I made a copy of all the Project Panacea data as a safeguard against attacks. We were getting throttled by some anonymous team, and if they ever cracked in, I set things up to self-destruct, but I wanted to make sure I had a backup.”

Leo and I share a look. “Okay,” we say at the same time.

“But what was fucking stupid of me was that I didn’t plan on a physical data breach,” he adds. He lets out a frustrated growl, but his fingers continue to fly over the screen.

“Shortly before you came back to D.C., there was this blip in the tracking. I didn’t think much of it because when the team investigated it, it looked like nothing. But I think…” He stops talking mid-sentence as lines of code roll on the screen.

When a pressed “Fuck,” bursts from his mouth, Leo and I share a look.

“Look here,” Max says, and we lean closer as Max pulls up two windows side by side, code scrolling like we’re in the movie Tron.

“What the fuck am I looking at, Max? In plain English.” This comes from Leo.

“The codes are different. What you’re looking at is a big ole ‘control-x’ from our tech that they pasted somewhere else. So basically, this is proof that they’ve had the technology all along. The vault thing…that didn’t actually do anything because they’ve been working on this for the last year. That was just a calling card from The Legion.”

Leo lets out a choked sound and pulls out his phone. Scrolling through the screen, his lips move as he counts under his breath.

“Fifteen,” Leo says, his voice incredulous. His eyes meet mine. “There are fifteen voluntary terminations across the R&D team.”

“And how large is your R&D team?” Luna asks.

“Thirty-two employees,” Leo adds.

Fuck. The implications spider through my brain. “When were they hired? Fired? Who are their?—”

“There’s no time for this, Hunter.” Misha’s voice grates on my nerves.

“No one asked you, Hroshko,” I grind out.

Luna lowers her legs lazily and stands next to her husband.

Amelia still remains silent.

“Basically, they’ve had a year-long head start,” Leo concludes.

I drop my head back, my thoughts spiraling. My first duty: Protect my family.

“Hunter.” Amelia’s soft voice cracks through my breakdown.

I don’t acknowledge her. Instead, I still my body, practically holding my breath.

“Hunter, we can’t reverse course at this point. We need to cut them off at the head. We need to find The Architect.” This comes from Misha.

The Architect. The Architect.

The name echoes in the deep recesses of my brain, and suppressed memories batter at my consciousness.

“You all have been running in circles trying to find The Architect. Meanwhile, Morris Winthrope is a direct threat to my family. He is the one we need to be focused on,” I say while staring at the wall.

Amelia responds, “Yes, that’s true. But the reality is that if The Architect is still around, then there’s nothing to stop the next Morris Winthrope or Benjamin Brigham. And we don’t know who The Architect is or where they are, but we do know that if the top falls, so will the rest.”

Misha begins to speak. “The tracking technology you used for Winter. We can implant that same tracker in Ella. A second one, for redundancy, plus our guy on the inside. If we give her to them, they will take her to The Architect. We’ll be able to take out both issues with one cut. We can end this.”

The room spins.

“No,” I grind out. “Find another way.”

If it were just me that they wanted to use, I’d consider it. But they want me to hand over Ella, and fuck if I will do that.

“Hunter, you’re being unreasonable. We’ll make it as safe for her as possible,” Misha says.

“You can’t guarantee shit!” I burst from my chair and spin to face Misha. “You may have fuck all to lose, but if you want my sister, you’re going to have to kill me.”

Misha takes a step toward me and my right hand twitches, eager to reach for my knife. “I don’t mind killing you, Brigham,” Misha spits. We’re chest to chest, and when Misha’s face cracks into a mocking smile, I ball my fist and smash it into his nose.

Misha takes a step back but is generally unaffected. He laughs, wiping blood away from his upper lip. “That was your one shot,” he says.

Still. Fucking. Grinning.

Leo huffs, and from the corner of my eye, I track as he leans against the wall farthest from us, arms crossed.

Rage at Misha blurs my vision, and I charge at him. I know he’s going to give back as much violence as I give him, but I don’t give a fuck.

I want someone to hurt.

I want someone to bleed.

“Hunter!” Amelia rushes to put herself between us, and Misha pushes her behind him. I grapple with him, and I have an advantage because the dress shoes he wears with his slacks cause his feet to become unstable on the slick floors.

“Stay back,” he says to Amelia. “This is between Hunter and me.” On the last word, he punches me in the stomach, and the air leaves my lungs.

His wife shifts, moving closer to us.

“Luna, sit this one out,” Misha says, not even winded.

I follow up with another punch. It’s a dirty one—right to his throat.

Misha makes a choked sound as he goes to the ground, grabbing his neck. I swing over him to sit on his chest, pinning his arms beneath my knees. My knife is out and pressed just under his right eye.

“I hate you,” I spit.

“The feeling is mutual, mudak,” he hisses back.

“Stop! Both of you!” Amelia says, pulling at my arm, which wields the dagger.

Misha releases a deep growl when her strong jerk causes me to inadvertently slice at his cheek.

“All right, enough of this,” Luna says with a sigh. The sound of her racking the chamber causes me to pause long enough that Misha gets his arms unpinned and wraps them around my neck.

“Let me handle this, moya lyubov,” Misha rasps, but Luna presses the barrel of her gun to the back of my head.

Static edges into my field of vision as Misha squeezes harder. But even still, I’m not quite sure he’s trying to kill me.

“No! There’s no time for this shit. Get it together, both of y’all!” Luna yells, and Misha delivers a sucker punch to my left eye that causes my head to snap back and for me to fall off him.

Luna helps Misha stand, putting her tiny hand on his cheek beneath the cut. He squeezes her wrist affectionately.

“Yeah,” I say, my throat dry. I get up, cracking my jaw from side to side to assess the damage. “Fuck all of you.”

“Even me?” Max pipes up. I ignore him.

The muscle above my right cheek twitches, and I’m so, so close to vomiting up the Margherita pizza Leo and I consumed earlier this evening.

“Hunter,” Amelia grates out.

“You can go fuck yourself, Amelia. It’s not like you gave a fuck about me or Ella, so don’t pretend you do now,” I bellow.

“Hunter, I tried to get back to you. I tried.” Amelia’s voice is like a knife in my skull. The sound of it causes a searing sort of agony to spiral in my brain.

“But I was terrified of your father. I knew if I ever came back, he’d make sure you all?—”

“Terrified? You were terrified?” My voice is so low—so, so low—and I feel rather than see Leo move closer to me.

“Hunter, I know he terrorized you, but I was trying to keep you alive,” she adds, openly weeping.

“You don’t know fucking shit!” I stalk toward her, but she doesn’t cower. She faces my rage, willing to accept all my hatred.

I try to breathe, but it feels like I’m drowning.

“Why should I ever trust a liar?” I say, the words and my voice raw. “What kind of mother abandons her children? But it wasn’t everyone—it looks like you and Hroshko are okay, right?”

Misha clicks his tongue. “You’re one to talk, Brigham. Didn’t you leave your kid behind?”

The room tilts and Leo’s face comes into focus in front of me.

“H, let’s walk it off,” he says. When he puts his hand on my shoulder, I shrug it off.

“Fuck off, Leonardo.” I get in his face, our chests bumping against each other.

He inhales, visibly trying to calm himself. “I’m not your enemy, nor am I the one you’re mad at.” His face hardens, and I step away from him to stand by the window. A cardinal jumps from branch to branch in the pine tree.

“Hunter, I never wanted to hurt you. I just needed a plan—an army—to get you and Ella out. Everything was so unclear. I didn’t know what the right move was, so I wanted to be sure. There’s so much….”

Control. Control. Control, control, contr ?—

“You think he merely terrorized me? Let me tell you what happened while you were gone, Mother.” I spit the title at her, turning to face the room again with the window to my back.

“Do you want to know all the depraved things he made me do? All the sick shit he allowed people to do to me?”

Amelia closes her eyes against my truths.

“No, open your fucking eyes and look at me!”

She snaps her eyes open.

“Do you want to know how many times I fucked and killed and drank and shot up to keep him happy? To protect Ella? To do your fucking job?”

She scans my face, and then it morphs.

“Oh, Hunter.” She covers her mouth. “No….”

No pity. No, she only gets to feel my fury.

“I just want to know why,” I ask, and my voice cracks, which makes me livid. “Why didn’t you come back for us? For me?”

The seconds tick-tick-tick on, and the word bursts from my lips, “Why!”

She jumps, but she doesn’t look afraid. Pity radiates from her in violent waves.

No, no, no pity.

Taking in the scene, I make the decision I’ve been fighting against, ignoring.

If I can’t beat them and joining them is untenable, then I have only one option.

We have to run.

I turn to storm out of the room when Ella runs smack into me.

“I can hear you fighting from the hallway!” She’s breathless, as if she ran all the way from wherever she was into the room.

“Sorry, Ellie,” I say gruffly. I grab her upper arm, ready to escort both of us somewhere else. Anywhere else.

We need to run.

Forget what I told Winter. We can’t stay here, because if Misha has his way, Ella would be thrown into the hands of The Legion and I can’t risk it. I can’t lose anyone.

I won’t risk it.

“Ella, a word, please,” Misha says. His tone is congenial and bright, and he’d seem gracious if he didn’t have a streak of blood trailing from his nose to his ear.

Ella raises her eyebrow at me as I continue pulling her toward the exit.

“H?” she asks, clearly confused.

Amelia inhales and exhales slowly, loudly, and I allow Ella to pull her arm from my grasp.

“We need your help, Ella,” Misha continues. He walks over to her, and when he’s less than a foot away, he grabs her elbow and guides her to sit at the table.

Ella’s eyes stay transfixed on his face, and I find myself mute, unable to say anything at all.

“There’s a long backstory, but perhaps you have heard that you were also a target for the abductors at the raid at Amelia Manor. Were you aware?” Misha leans against the table, caging Ella in on one side with his casual pose.

“Yeah,” Ella says, and she begins to chew her lip.

Leo shifts across the room, and the stormy look on his face must mirror mine.

“The people who attacked are part of an organization called The Legion. There are a few reasons why they want you, but that’s actually a good thing. Because these people are dangerous, and they must be stopped. Not just for you and your family’s safety, but for the safety of all humankind.”

Ella’s eyes widen as she follows Misha’s words.

“I want you to know that we will keep you safe if you help us. Okay?”

“Um, okay.” Ella nods, her eyes still wide.

“Here’s what I—we—propose.” Misha sticks his hands out to gesture to the entire room. “We want to give you to them, just for a little bit. Because we know when they have you, they will take you to their leader, who is a person called The Architect. Are you following me?”

Ella’s eyebrows furrow. “Yes, but…these people are dangerous. Terrorists, right?”

Misha nods. “Yes, they are dangerous, but we will place trackers on your person so that we can retrieve you when you are with The Architect. Once you’re inside, we’ll be in range to tackle any technological defenses they may have. Max can mask the signal and keep an eye on you at all times. We have someone on the inside who will keep you safe. Then we’ll come in with an army bigger than the one I sent to rescue you all at Amelia Manor,” he says. The last few words are a bit sharper and pointed in my direction. A dig at me.

“Why do they want me?” Ella asks.

It’s a perfectly reasonable question that I want the answer to. My face tightens with foreboding.

Misha sends a look to our mother.

Our mother.

With a deep breath, Misha starts to speak, but Amelia butts in.

“You are important to them, Ellie. That’s why we’re confident they won’t harm you. They need you alive and…intact.”

Ella’s brows furrow.

“Okay, but why am I important?” she presses. Amelia drops onto her haunches and grabs Ella’s hands.

“Your father…my father…they were part of The Legion. They are—they were evil, Ellie. I’ve been caught up in this world for so long. I knew I wanted to, needed to get out when you were born. The day I took you home, I was told that you would be handed over to The Legion by your twenty-third birthday. I…” Amelia bows her head, but I track the movement as her hands flex against Ella’s.

I’m frozen. Rooted. Helpless to stop this trainwreck in front of me.

“They forced me to conceive you so that you may be one of the chosen to birth their next generations once Elysium was enacted.” Amelia’s lips tremble as she delivers the clear words, and it’s like a marching band decided to take up residence between my ears.

I’d suspected something similar, drawing conclusions from the information I received when I first arrived…but this?

I want to vomit.

Ella stares at Amelia as if she were an alien, and after a few heartbeats, removes her hands.

“I see,” Ella says, her voice sounding far off. She looks thoroughly overwhelmed by this information—as much as I am.

“What the actual goddamn fuck?” I shout, seething. No one except Leo acknowledges my outburst.

The feeling of icy anxiety beneath my skin demands that I move, run, get far away from all of this shit with Ella and the rest of my family.

I try to breathe in, but it feels like chains wind around my chest, pulling tighter, tighter….

“They won’t hurt you because they need you, Ella. Your blood—your DNA is too precious to them. But if you face this for a little while, prayerfully not even a full day, then we can end all of this for good. You’ll be free.” Luna delivers the words with more passion than I’ve heard her use toward any of us thus far.

“And if you don’t, which…is your choice,” Misha begins. “You will have to live in hiding forever. They will hunt you until they catch you, Ella.”

Ella’s face goes blank, and she goes very still. Impossibly still.

Amelia still crouches in front of her. “You do not have to do this, Ella,” she says, her voice fierce.

“If you agree, you’ll help us get rid of some serious evil in the world. I want to give you time to decide, but we can’t delay any longer. We need to act now. So what do you say?” Misha says and waits patiently.

I hold my breath, and with a glance toward Leo, it looks like he’s doing the same.

I find my voice. “You don’t have to do this, Ellie. In fact, I don’t want you to?—”

“I’ll do it,” she says in a soft voice, and my heart drops to the floor.

Misha grins. “What was that, little one?”

Ella looks at Misha, and I realize that she’s likely a little in awe of him, but then, I can imagine he represents a lot to her. And to us. He’s the strong, un-fuck-with-able older brother who guarantees her protection in the face of insane danger without batting an eye.

So of course she wants to do whatever he says.

“Yes, I’ll do it. What do I need to do?” Ella’s energized words cause me to start pacing.

Wrong. This is wrong.

“Ella, no, ” I shout, and the snap of sound causes her to jump.

Amelia falls into a chair, placing her head in her hands. After a beat, she looks up to Ella. “Are you sure, Ellie? You really don’t have to,” Amelia murmurs.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she says, straightening her spine. “I can do this.”

“Fuck,” Leo swears, the words a sharp rasp. When I glance at him, his eyes zero in on Ella, but the look he gives her refuses to compute in my brain. Before I can make anything more of it, he storms out the door.

“Ella,” I say, my heart cracking through my bones. “Please don’t do this.” My voice is practically a whisper.

When she stands to walk to me and places her hand on my forearm, I realize that I’m shaking.

“It’s going to be okay,” she says with a bright smile. Naive. She’s so fucking naive.

“You don’t know a fucking thing about what these people are capable of, Ella! Your whole life you’ve been sheltered. You’ve been protected from our father and the depraved shit he does to people. If I know anything at all, I know this: They will eat you alive.”

Maybe even literally.

The image of a group of blood-covered men consuming a woman causes me to turn from Ella and suppress a gag.

Her hand lands on my back. “H, you’ve got to let go,” Ella says, and she uses the tone she gives August when he’s having a meltdown.

Slow, measured, careful.

I shake my head because images of Ella being utterly destroyed flash through my brain.

I’m going to lose another person I love.

Putting a hand to my chest, I turn back to my sister.

“You’re dead set on this?”

Her face turns serious. “Yes, Hunter. I am,” she says.

I nod at her confirmation.

“We need you too, Hunter. You know much more than you think, and out of all of us, you’ve been on Isla Cara the most,” Misha says.

He’s right.

Out of the group in front of me, I’m the only one who has spent months at a time on the island.

Months filled with nothing but pain and haziness and mental anguish.

“You’re expecting too much from me,” I say, and my voice sounds strange to my ears.

Then, with a look at the rest of the room’s occupants, I release a short sigh that does nothing to ease the tension in my sternum.

Looking at Ella, I say with a smile I don’t mean at all, “Well. Have fun.”

Ella looks like I’ve slapped her when I walk out the door.