Creators(37)

I gritted my teeth and braced myself for his attack. His eyes were large, scared, frenzied. He was getting closer and closer. The blood he wore covered almost every inch of his tan cotton shirt. It splattered and marked his face like war paint from the books my father used to read about the Native Americans who once ruled these lands; men desperate enough to do just about anything to protect their own.

The man running right at me was definitely a man of war.

I inhaled and clenched my fists. The bloodied man looked right past me. He narrowed his eyes and stared straight toward the infirmary. The place that was protecting my sister. I couldn’t let him get there.

Logically, he could have been one of my father’s men. I hadn’t met all of them, so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. But being one of my father’s men didn’t hold the same sense of security as it once did. I didn’t entirely trust my father anymore and that distrust extended to his crew. I’d rather be wrong than dead. I’d rather be wrong than something happen to those I loved.

I planted my feet firmly on the ground. I bent slightly at the knees, knowing from my training that if I tensed my body too much I could do some damage to myself on impact. I took a deep breath and then I was off. I sprinted toward the man, throwing my body onto his, bringing us both to the ground.

Slightly disoriented, the man cursed and yelled, throwing me off him as if I weighed nothing. He must have used his last bit of strength to push me because he struggled to pull himself to his feet. My father always told me victory would only come if I could pinpoint my opponent’s weakness. This particular enemy was near exhaustion.

I mustered everything I had left inside of me and scrambled to my feet. With a grunt, I threw myself onto the assailant’s back, wrapping my arms around his neck. Once I had a good grip, I let my body go limp, using my weight to put pressure on his windpipe. I would hold onto him as long as it took.

I had to.

“Let him go!” a voice pleaded with me, but I didn’t budge. “Tess, I said let him ago!” It was only the second time that I recognized Sharon’s voice. Hearing her urgency, I loosened my grip and stumbled backward away from the man. Once he was free, the man bolted toward the infirmary.

All the air I kept trapped inside rushed from me. I slumped forward and placed my hands on my knees, trying to regain control.

Louisa.

He had run into the infirmary where Louisa was. Even if Sharon told me it was safe to let him go, I had to see for myself that my sister was safe. I spun around, running as fast as I could.

Sharon met me at the doorway and held up her hands. “Tess, I’m gonna need you to stay here with Louisa,” she said calmly. She was standing next to the wild man. He sat in a chair near my sister’s bed trying to catch his breath.

My eyes darted from the man to Louisa to Sharon. Louisa’s eyes were wide with shock, but otherwise, she seemed unharmed. Sharon walked over to me and patted me on the back. “She’s not in danger. I need to go help Sam,” she said, nodding to the man.

I returned her nod, trying to stop my body from trembling. A mixture of unused adrenaline and overwhelming relief. As I stared at the man, I noticed something. With the exception of being a bit winded, he didn’t appear to be hurt. “That blood isn’t his, is it?” I asked Sharon.

She smiled tightly.

“Whose blood is it?” I asked, my voice turning cold.

“I can’t answer that,” she replied, bending down and pulling a variety of medical supplies from a trunk kept at the foot of my sister’s bed. “I’ll be back to check on Louisa later. I promise.”

Sharon handed the man the supplies and gave him a curt nod. With a sigh, he pulled himself to his feet and left. Sharon turned to me, opened her mouth, and then closed it. I took a step toward her and grabbed her hand, pulling her out into the hallway. “What is it? I know you want to tell me.”

Sharon looked behind her to make sure the man was gone. “It’s not my secret to tell. You should really talk to your father.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ve tried talking to him. He says I already know everything I need to know.” I paused, taking a moment to note the worry in Sharon’s eyes. “But I do need to know. Don’t I?”

“Ask him again,” Sharon said. “He’s your family.”

“You and I both know that doesn’t always mean something.” I swallowed. The doubt had been growing inside of me like a parasite, slowly taking over, destroying me from the inside. What was my father’s end game? What was he willing to do to achieve it? As much as I wanted to know, there was a part of me that couldn’t trust him. At least not entirely. “I’m closer to you and Lockwood than that man who calls himself my father, so if he’s putting us in danger, I need to know about it. Now why was that man covered in blood? Does it have something to do with what my father’s hiding?”