Nothing. I’m not sure what I expected, precisely. I trust him to find me, the way he has twice before. I trust him implicitly.
Yet, twice, I’d allowed him to walk right out of my life.
Why? Because I was still nursing a hopeless crush on one of my best friends?
I’m not anymore, and haven’t for a long time, but now I don’t trust my judgment.
I’ve had hookups. They weren’t satisfying. I want a partner. I want someone who loves me back. But a man who proposes marriage before he even knows your name is joking, right?
I’d love to have a chance to ask him in person. First, I have to find him.
Speaking of proposals, I’m not exactly a paragon in that regard, either. “I cannot believe I fucking proposedmarriageto Lorcan,” I grumble to myself, kicking a stone with the toe of my badly worn boot. “Idiot. What was I expecting? That Lorcan might kiss me and tell me he’d been waiting for me to make a move? Stupid, Raina.”
Talk about setting yourself up for rejection. I cringe to remember it.
Every time I think I’ve made my peace with Past Raina’s stupid hangup on Lorcan, I’ll remember the way I wasted two precious years of potential experiences wishing he’d pay attention to me, and find myself wallowing in regret all over again.
I knew perfectly well he was there to do a job—protecting Zosia, and to some extent, me—but I still harbored a fantasy that he and I would explore Europe together like a couple of Instagram travel influencers. Post cute couple pictures of us online, that kind of thing.
Instead, what I got was a bunch of boring conferences—Zosia is too serious for her own damn good, even without her father’s influence—and some marginally entertaining campus parties.
At least Kenton made the most of his time abroad, unlike the rest of us did.
Gods, I miss him.
The sky above me lightens into pale gray. The moon completes its arc toward the horizon, casting long shadows onto the uneven ground that make it hard to see where I’m going. I want to curl up on the ground and sleep.
A mechanical sound cuts through the natural symphony of wind, waves and bird calls. A boat. More pirates with their dreaded guns and nothing to lose but their lives. I picked up a rock and fling it as hard as I can.
“Go AWAY you motherfucking cowards!” I scream. Bending, I choose another rock and throw that one, too. Then another. “Leave my country ALONE!”
When I bend for a fourth rock, the ground beside me explodes. I yelp and fall backward, scrambling away from the gunshot. “Fuck!”
Then I get up and run as fast as my tired legs will carry me. My pack bangs against my butt with every stride. Incensed, I held out my right hand with two fingers raised in the British sign forfuck you—right before falling flat on my face.
One minute I was running, the next, the ground dropped out from under me. I land on my stomach, barely keeping my face from smashing into the rocks, and lay there, winded, until the pirates are gone.
“I really fucking despise pirates,” I mutter, pushing tiredly to my feet. I’m immediately faced with a new problem: an abrupt rise in the volcanic ledge.
I launch myself at the opposite wall, flinging all my weight at the top ledge. I don’t make it.
“Fuuuuck,” I groan. With a surge of adrenaline, I run at it and jump. This time I managed to kick myself up over the ledge.
“Welp.” I unscrew the cap of my canteen and take a swig. “Now, what?”
I’m lost. I have no idea where to find Tovian. I’m almost out of water. The sun is starting to bake me, and I don’t have anything to shade myself.
I chuck a pebble into the pit below my feet, despairing. Distantly, I could still hear a boat’s engine.
“I hope you ram an atoll,” I mutter.Die motherfuckers.I want our island to kill them, hunt them down, one by one.
I examine the scrapes on my knees and forearms. My summer camp outfit, already mended and patched, is fit for rags after my tumble. I rip the hem off my tunic, wet it with the last drops of my canteen water, and dab at my wounds. A gurgle from my stomach reminded me that I’d been hiking for over twelve hours with nothing but a little dried fruit for a snack.
“Now, what?” I ask the rocks as despair sets in.
The sun rises higher. Soon, it’ll be hot as blazes out here in the rocks. I have no water, no food, no shelter, and no idea what I’m doing out here.
I have the satellite phone and walkie-talkie. The latter won’t work unless there was someone within range, and the phone has less than 20% battery left.
