The Brightest Night (Origin #3) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,158

for themselves, and just how hurt this other one was. I also reasoned it would be a good idea to see exactly how Nate was getting in and out of the city without being seen. I could defend myself, and helping Nate was far more useful than sitting here missing Luc and Zoe and everyone else.

Finding a tube of antibacterial cream, I tossed it in the bag. I had no idea if it was expired or not, but I figured it couldn’t hurt.

Nate was waiting where I’d left him, his gaze glued to the archway. I thought I saw relief on his face when I walked back in.

“I got some stuff in here that I think will help.” I placed the backpack on the island, leaving it open so he could peer inside. “But here’s the deal.” I waited until his gaze lifted to mine. “I know you’re probably going to argue with me, but if you want this stuff to help your friend, then I’m coming with you.”

His mouth opened.

“I trust you, Nate. Obviously, since I just let you into my house, and I hope you can try to trust me. I haven’t told any of the community leaders here about you.” That wasn’t a lie. “And I am more than willing to help you, but I need to see who’s hurt. You say it’s not bad. I have no way of knowing that, and not knowing that is going to get to me. So, that’s the deal. I’ll even throw in some canned food and bread. Take it or leave it.”

I felt incredibly adultlike in that moment, even though Nate couldn’t have been more than four or so years younger than I was, but I sort of wanted to pat myself on the back.

Nate shifted his weight from one foot to the next, his little jaw flexing. Several long moments passed, and then he said, “Deal.”

I was so surprised I might’ve needed to sit down.

He didn’t look remotely happy when he’d agreed, but he’d agreed, and I wasn’t giving him a chance to change his mind. I quickly grabbed some canned green beans, some kind of sausage, and bread.

“If you do anything to scare the others, they’ll bolt,” he said when I faced him. “They’ll stop trusting me, and they can’t survive out there.”

“I won’t do anything. I promise you that.”

Nate blew out a ragged breath. “Aren’t you worried that I’d hurt you? That someone else will? You don’t know me. You don’t know who I’m leading you to.”

The fact that he was asking that lessened any worry that I did have, but I met his stare as I zipped up the bag and reminded myself that I was, in fact, a badass Trojan. “I won’t let you or anyone else hurt me, Nate. If anyone did try to, I can promise you that will not end well for them.”

His eyes widened a little, but then he nodded. “Okay.”

Slinging the straps of the backpack over my shoulders, I smiled. “Okay.”

* * *

How Nate moved in and out of the community quickly became obvious the moment I realized he was leading me through a maze of cramped alleys in between abandoned homes, toward the same road Eaton lived on and all the way to end of it.

Hidden behind a car, we watched a Luxen patrol the chain-link fence that separated the community from a wooden area and the city.

The moment the Luxen had disappeared out of view, I looked over at Nate. “You know their schedule, don’t you?”

He nodded. “It’s like intervals, give or take a few minutes.” He rose. “Follow me.”

The fact that some kid without the aid of a watch could figure out exactly when the guards would be in a certain area was more than a little concerning. Filing that away to discuss with Luc when he returned, I followed Nate in the moonlight, across the cracked road and over a small patch of overgrown grass. Nate led me straight to a section of broken fence that was partially obscured.

Another thing that needed to be addressed.

We hurried through the trees, my eyes adjusting to the scarce moonlight. I had no idea how Nate was able to navigate, but I imagined it had a lot to do with repetition. He tripped a few times, though, over exposed roots and uneven ground.

The moment we cleared the woods and I could see the looming city, my stomach tumbled.

“This used to be a public park,” Nate explained as he strode