Chapter 93

93

It doesn't come.

As Caleb grabs her arms, she hears her father's voice in her head again.

You're a coward, Elin. A coward.

The words turn the spark into a fire inside her. Elin throws herself back, the crown of her head hitting something hard with a crack.

His jaw? A cheek? She can't see, but whatever she struck jolts him backward, off guard. She uses the momentary vulnerability to kick out behind her. He's already unstable and it's enough to make him stumble.

Elin manages to turn, finally gets her hands up to her face to rip off her blindfold.

But the sudden influx of light is too much; she's blinded, her vision blurred. All she can see is a vague outline of him as he staggers sideways.

Caleb seems to hesitate, step toward her, then back. Elin's already anticipating him lunging toward her again, but instead, he's moving away.

Footsteps, thudding hard into the distance.

Elin lies back, closing her eyes and then opening them, waiting for her vision to steady, the giddy spinning beneath her eyelids to cease.

A sob escapes her throat.

It's hard to believe she's safe; she can still feel the violence in the air around her. Caleb was close to killing her, wanted desperately to do it; she could feel the anger in every part of him, every limb, every sinew.

As she eases herself up to a sitting position, questions tear through her head: Why had he left her when he did? The attack felt so... intimate. Something you wouldn't leave unfinished. Had she hurt him more than she realized? Did he fear he couldn't finish the job?

But the thoughts are immediately supplanted by the realization that if he's left her, the chances are that he's going after someone else. Farrah, if he hasn't already, Ronan Delaney, Steed, who's on his own back there.

With a huge effort, Elin pulls herself upright, but it's a struggle to get to her feet; the blows have made her dizzy. Still punch-drunk, swaying slightly on her feet, resolve settles on her as she thinks about what lies ahead.

She's reached a pivot point—either she gives up now, or she goes after him.

It only takes a moment to decide as her fear recedes and something else replaces it. Outrage.

Overwhelming, raw anger. Caleb made her feel weak just then. A coward.

She doesn't want to feel like that anymore.

Making her way back to the front of the villa, Elin peers through the glass, relief unfolding inside her as she sees Farrah, lying, eyes closed, on the bed. He didn't come back for her.

She gently raps on the glass. Farrah's eyes flicker open, widening in alarm before she realizes that it's Elin.

Clambering out of bed, she makes her way to the door. "Is everything okay?" she murmurs, pulling the door open. "Your face..."

Elin raises a hand, lightly grazes her cheek. She winces. "Caleb."

Farrah's eyes dart past Elin in panic, but there's no sign of any movement bar the storm: the frenzy it's created, water pounding the glass, still collecting in dirty puddles on the path.

"He's not here." Elin follows her inside. "I think he's gone over to the main island. You haven't seen him?"

"No, but I've been drifting in and out of sleep."

Elin nods and she realizes that Caleb hadn't come back for Farrah because whether she lived or died was irrelevant to him. Coming to the islet was an exercise in distracting Elin, one of the only obstacles in his path, drawing her away from the main island. Winning him enough time to get to his real target.

Ronan.

Farrah climbs back into bed, relaxing against the pillow. "I'm tired."

"I know. Let me quickly check you over again and then I'll get help. Try to rest."

"Okay." Farrah opens her mouth as if she's about to say something, but her eyes droop closed again.

Back outside a few minutes later, Elin starts picking her way through the trees toward the bridge. Slower this time: every step she takes hurts from Caleb's blows—a dull throbbing in every limb. She's never felt so drained, the heavy, numbing fatigue settling over her, making it hard even to put one foot in front of another.

It seems like an age before she makes it through the trees. She's only a few feet from the water when her stomach lurches.

The bridge is gone.