Page 22 of Hollow
“I’ll lift you on three,” I say. “One, two, three.”
I scoop her up as gently as I can, one arm under her knees, the other supporting her back. She weighs almost nothing, light as driftwood. Her body is rigid at first, but as we start moving again, shegradually relaxes, her head eventually resting against my shoulder.
She’s ice cold. Even through my jacket and her clothes, I can feel it. Her skin has that bluish tint around the edges, like someone who’s been in the water too long.
“Is she always this cold?” I ask Damiano quietly.
“I can hear you,” Briar says, muffled against my shoulder. “And yes, I’m always this cold. Poor circulation. Part of the autoimmune package deal.”
I glance down, surprised to hear her speak with strength. There’s a touch of irritation in her tone despite her obvious exhaustion.
“Sorry,” I say. “Didn’t think you were still with us.”
“Just because I’m not talking doesn’t mean I’m not here.” She shifts slightly in my arms. “And I don’t need you two discussing me like I’m some fragile damsel who needs rescuing. I can handle myself.”
Damiano catches my eye, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly. Good. She still has some fight in her.
When we reach the edge of the property, Damiano guides us to the section of fence I told him about. Sure enough, several planks are loose, creating a gap just wide enough to slip through.
“I’ll go back now,” he says, his eyes lingering on Briar. “Make sure everyone leaves. Then deal with... the rest.”
“Be careful,” I say, surprising myself with how much I mean it.
He gives me a look, somewhere between annoyance and something softer. “Yeah.”
Before going, he reaches out, briefly touching Briar’s shoulder. “You’re going to be okay,” he tells her. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”
She doesn’t respond, but her eyes follow him as he turns and disappears back into the fog.
The forest path is narrow and dark, barely visible in the misty moonlight. I’ve walked it a hundred times, though, even drunk out of my mind, so my feet know the way. Briar shivers continuously in my arms, small tremors that seem to start deep inside her.
“Almost there,” I tell her, though my place is still a good ten minutes away. “Just hang on.”
She nods against my shoulder. “I killed him,” she whispers, the first words she’s spoken since we left the maze.
“Yeah, you did.” No point in sugarcoating it. “And he had it coming.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“I know.” I adjust my grip, pulling her closer to share what warmth I can. “But if you hadn’t, he would have killed you. Or worse.”
“There’s something worse than death?” Her question is distant, almost dreamy.
“Living with what he would have done to you,” I say. “Trust me, you made the right choice.”
We walk in silence for a while, the only sounds our breathing and the occasional snap of twigs beneath my boots. The fog thins as we get closer to the eastern cliffs, where my container home sits overlooking the water.
“Why are you helping me?” she asks. “You don’t even know me.”
I could give her some bullshit answer about basic human decency, but she deserves better than that. “I knew Liam Bastian. He was a piece of shit who hurt people for fun. Got away with it because his brother protects him.” I pause. “Protected him.”
“His brother?”
“Viktor Bastian. Head of security at The Vault. Mean motherfucker with connections all over the island.” I step over a fallen log, careful not to jostle her. “When he finds out Liam’s missing, there’ll be questions.”
“Will he come after me?”
“Not if he can’t connect you to it.” I glance down at her. “That’s why we’re cleaning this up. Making it disappear.”
