Left for Wild - Harloe Rae Page 0,14
Blakely shivers, burrowing deeper into the collar of her coat.
“This is where my previous employer mentioned dropping a few traitors to let nature take its course. We’re the latest batch, I guess.” I draw in a slow breath. “I wouldn’t blame you for going postal.”
She’s quiet for a moment, long enough for my nerves to spike. It was sheer luck that I got her to calm down once. A second time would take a miracle. Blakely finally puts an end to her silence, dragging me out of misery. “That doesn’t make sense. I don’t know who they are. Why me? What did I do?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better? I gotta be honest, it really doesn’t.”
“I wouldn’t assume otherwise.” A crank tugs at a hidden coil buried inside of me. The pinch is intense and immediate. “The people we’re dealing with are sick lunatics.”
She sniffs, swiping at her glassy eyes. “My skin is far from thick. That thin layer is little more than useless against keeping warm and warding off hate. What did I do? Why would they abduct me?”
“You’re an innocent victim,” I murmur.
A garbled croak shoots mist from her lips. “Holy shit, I’m a random target. My mother was right. She’s probably flipping the eff out. I’ll never live this down.”
I cringe as her pitch raises several octaves. “They chose you for a reason, Blakely.”
She balks at that. “Which is?”
“Watching you struggle by my side makes this torture far more painful for me.” Blakely is resigned to the same dismal fortune. We’re going to suffer together, but I’ll be forced to endure her destruction. As if my punishment wasn’t already cruel.
She scoffs. “That’s ridiculous. We’ve never exchanged a single word prior to now. You’d feel the same way about anyone else stranded out here.”
I drop my gaze. How much do I reveal? Not like my integrity matters at this point. She deserves to hear why her future is now entwined with mine. “I had enough sense to keep my distance when you’d visit the prison. But we saw each other over the years. I can’t pretend that those moments didn’t impact me. It only happened with you. They noticed, unfortunately.”
“Oh,” she whispers. “That’s seriously shady. I didn’t know stuff like that actually happens outside of movies.”
“Yeah, moles are planted everywhere. This is completely my fault. I never should’ve looked at you.”
If possible, her cheeks flush a brighter scarlet. “You didn’t ask them to take me.”
“Of course not.” Jesus, the thought alone makes me nauseous.
“I’m almost afraid to ask why they wanted you gone.”
“Several reasons. The type of business they run is built on corruption and secrets. Getting caught isn’t an option, and having loose ends is a problem. I was released from prison early and needed to be dealt with.”
“Are you a mobster or something?”
I grunt while picturing Stefano in a custom three-piece suit, barking orders from behind his massive mahogany desk. “No, not at all. I just got involved with the worst kind of people.”
“What could you have possibly done to deserve this?”
“That’s a very long story.”
She takes an obvious glance from one side to another. “Because I’m in a huge hurry. It doesn’t appear that I’m going anywhere in the near future.”
“Let’s focus our energy elsewhere for the moment.” The last thing I want to do is let my darkest skeletons loose on the last soul I might see in this life.
The furrow creasing her brow suggests there are more questions coming, or a protest. But Blakely surprises me. She gestures at her jacket and snow pants. “Why bother dressing us for survival?”
I inspect my outerwear. “To make us suffer longer.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“And that’s not all.” I hitch a thumb toward the canvas satchels piled by a tree. “Looks like they left us supplies.”
“How didn’t I notice those sooner?”
“You were preoccupied.” To say I’m surprised—and thoroughly impressed—with Blakely’s ability to take this all in stride is an understatement. After her initial episode of panic, she’s been calm and collected.
“Well,” she pushes herself off the ground. “Might as well see what we’ve got at our disposal.”
Survival tip #7: That theory about a wolf dressed as a sheep doesn’t apply in this place.
As it turns out, standing isn’t that big of a chore. I can’t be too sure of anything at this point. Being cautious seems like a solid standard to abide by, considering the horrific scene I woke up to. Well, that’s not entirely fair. This front row seat of the Canadian wilderness is