bawled again, so I hugged her to me, nestling her head under my chin.
“You should take her to the waterfall. Get her cleaned up, and then bring her to the caves. The . . .” Cruz went silent as though to spare my cousin the news of the furred monsters that were about to descend upon us. “They don’t fit inside the individual caves.”
I nodded, then stood and helped her up, but her balance teetered, and although thin, she weighed more than my tired arms could carry. Remo, who was standing close, lunged toward us and caught her arm before she could tumble.
Thank you, I mouthed.
When she realized whose hands were on her, she spooked and bounced away, stumbling right into Cruz.
“Easy there, Giya,” Cruz said gently.
“How come Remo’s here, too?” My usually soft-spoken cousin wasn’t speaking all that softly. “Did he force you inside his grandfather’s prison?”
A small smile tipped my mouth. “Believe it or not, that bagwa followed me in.”
“Again with the bagwa,” Remo chided, even though his expression was amused.
“Do you even know what it means?” Giya snapped.
“Your brother called me a jackass in Gottwa enough times for me to look it up.”
I grinned. “Oh, he’s called you a lot worse.”
A corner of his mouth hooked up. “I don’t doubt it.”
Giya’s head ping-ponged between us, so absorbed by our easy banter she seemed to have forgotten she was being held up by a ghost. “Are you two”—her nose scrunched up—“friends now?”
Remo draped his arm around my shoulders and tucked me into his side. “Trifecta finally came to her senses and realized what a catch I am.”
I rolled my eyes but wove my hand through the one dangling over my shoulder.
Giya’s gaze fastened on our locked fingers. There had been times where I’d been happy in the Scourge, but having my cousin here, knowing my other one was on his way, and holding Remo’s hand, I felt borderline giddy.
I craned my neck to look up at my fiancé. Although exhausted, he, too, looked somewhat happy.
“Not to interrupt your sappy reunion, but the smoke’s getting thin.” Kiera lifted her chin to the crater. “And there’s meat hanging everywhere. It’ll drive the tigri feral.”
I gave Remo’s hand one last squeeze, then released it and walked out from under his arm. “Hand her over,” I told Cruz.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded, then snuck my arm under Giya’s as she whispered, “Tigri?”
“Second trial. But don’t worry. You can rest while—”
“I hate this place. I mean, I’m so happy to see you, but I really hate prison.”
I shot her grim smile. “You and I both.” As we slalomed through the train debris, I asked, “Does anything hurt?”
“My head.”
Worry made me push her hair around, hunting for hidden gashes. “I don’t see any blood. Besides the one coming from the cut on your cheek.”
“It hurts because I’ve spent the last few days—hours?”—she looked up at the sky—“awake and alert and fucking terrified.”
“Giya Geemiwa, did you just curse?”
“Oh, shut up. After what I went through, I get to curse. I also get to rant if I feel like it.” Her voice was unnaturally high-pitched. “What is wrong with you? Why are you still smiling?”
“I’m just really happy to see you.”
She shot me a befuddled look.
“Does anyone else know where we are?” Remo asked, slowing his strides to keep up with our snail pace.
“Josh.”
“I meant, besides him?”
She shook her head.
“Hey, Farrow!” Kiera called out. “You’re needed to collect the meat.”
His gaze surfed past Giya and locked on mine.
“Go. I’m rested. And armed. We’ll be okay.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
“Let him accompany the girls,” Cruz said. “We have enough time to gather all the meat.”
“Why don’t we dump it all in one place?” Quinn suggested. “The tigri will converge there and be easier to pick off.”
Kiera chewed on her lip, clenching her fingers around her spear. I wondered if she slept with it. “Seven of them in the same place doesn’t sound like such great odds to me.”
“She looks familiar?” Giya whispered. “Why does she look familiar?”
“Because you’re looking at Cole’s twin.”
“And the man with the beard is their uncle, Quinn,” Remo added.
Giya’s pupils shrank, which made her irises look impossibly wide. “Kiera Locklear and Quinn Thompson?” she hissed. “Iba and Nima’s torturers?”
I nodded, glancing over my shoulder at the fine-boned, skinny blonde with the tousled dreads who was at present scanning the darkened expanse of thick palms, squat panem, and curled aloe. “Where the hell is Little King?” she barked.
Giya faltered, and I tightened my grip