ABBY
Kieran picks up the pace, probably nervous about the sun setting.
It's getting dark, making me debate getting my flashlight out. I can still see well enough to know where I'm stepping, but I don't want to break out the flashlight too early and lose charge before the night's over.
It's solar-powered, and even though it's clipped to and dangling from the side of my backpack, I'm not sure how much sunlight it got during the day. The giant trees we walk among surround us in shade, which isn't ideal.
My knees ache with every step, and the blisters growing on my ankles don't necessarily feel great, but I refrain from complaining. I'll tend to myself when we stop to sleep tomorrow morning.
Mason falls back, no longer walking beside Kieran. He waits for me to pass before taking up the back, once more monitoring me. I figured it was only a matter of time before the two stopped whispering to one another and Mason resumed his usual watch guard position.
I want to know what they were discussing, but I figured if they intended for me to know, Mason wouldn't have bothered hurrying forward to walk next to Kieran.
"We're headed to Traul River," Kieran says to me over his shoulder.
Is that what he and Mason were whispering about? I haven't drunk any water in almost twenty-four hours now, and they must be pretty concerned about the concentration of my pee. I'm sure it's radioactive yellow about now, and the constant exercise isn't helping.
I wish I had my water bottle with me, and I resist the urge to spin around and glare at Mason as I remember why I don't. It's his fault it was left behind. Had he not knocked me out, I'd have made sure it was in my backpack.
I don't respond to Kieran's announcement that we're going to Traul River, nor does Mason. He probably already knows, though. I bet that's what they were whispering about up there.
Fucking gossips.
We walk for another hour or so before we come across the river. I can hear it before I see it, the rushing water loud. It sounds fast, and I grimace as the moonlight reflects against it.
The river is wider than I imagined, the opposite end stretching further than my eyes can see. The water is moving quicker than I'm comfortable with, too, but it looks refreshing.
Although, that might be my dehydration talking.
I'm growing desperate.
Without thinking, I hurry to the river's edge, careful not to lose my footing. I'm a decent swimmer, but even this current is a bit much for me.
It may not be a bad idea to jump in and let it take me downstream, though. I'm not sure how fast Mason can run in his animal form, but if I swim with the current, there's a slight chance I could move quicker. It's probably the best opportunity I'm going to get.
I set my backpack on the ground before carefully maneuvering to my knees. The bandages crinkle and my injuries scream as I put weight on them, but I don't trust myself to stand and lean over the riverbank.
One wrong move, and I'm head first into the water.
"Is it safe to drink?" I ask, turning back to Kieran and Mason.
Mason's taken a seat on a large rock, and Kieran stands on his left. They're both watching me, which is highly unnerving but typical.
"Yes," Kieran says.
That's all I need to hear, and I lick my lips before turning around and cupping my hands below the water. It's cold, and I greedily scoop handfuls of water into my mouth. This is arguably the most refreshing thing I've ever experienced, and the frigid temperature soothes my achy throat from inside.
I imagine it will take several days for my throat to heal completely.
I'm sure I look like a feral animal as I frantically drink from the river, and probably not a graceful one like a gazelle, but I don't care.
Kieran and Mason clearly don't intend to give me water frequently, so I'm going to take full advantage of this. Plus, I'm tired of Mason sniffing and commenting on my pee. It's disgusting, and I don't know why he even bothers.
He's the one who wants me to die.
"Who's bathing her?" Mason asks.
I freeze, every muscle in my body growing stiff as I pull my hands from the water. I can practically feel the weight of their stares on my back, and I swallow past the lump in my throat as I carefully stand and spin around.
Who's bathing who? I know they aren't speaking about me. I must've heard them wrong.
Mason's still sitting on his rock, his elbows resting on his knees. Kieran hasn't moved, either, but he's now glaring at the side of Mason's head.
I bet he didn't want me to hear that.
A long silence stretches before Kieran turns back to me, his expression unreadable.
"I will," he says.
No. No, he won't.
I glance between the two, knowing I need to make a decision.
Mason will likely shift into his animal form and hunt me down if I try to run. I'm not confident I'd come out of that alive, but I won't sit here and let them 'bathe' me.
I know what happens after that.
Both Mason and Kieran shift, their movements so subtle I wouldn't notice them if it weren't for how intently I'm paying attention. Kieran seems focused, but Mason looks excited.
I bet he wants me to run. It gives him the opportunity to chase me, and he'll still get to do whatever follows.
I should scream. I could attract shifters and trolls, and we'd all die. It's starting to feel like that'll be my outcome either way, so I might as well take Kieran and Mason down with me.
I don't know a damn thing about Kieran's politics, but I'm sure the faeries will be better off without him. One of the nobles can travel to the portal and get the gods' blessings. They're probably more deserving.
I shift my weight from foot to foot, still debating what I'm going to do.
"Abby," Kieran coos.
He speaks to me like you would a frightened animal, which isn't helping his cause.
I shake my head, not trusting my voice. I am not being bathed.
Mason rolls his shoulders, probably preparing to lunge or shift. The movement triggers my fight or flight, and before I have time to process what I'm doing, I'm spinning on my heel and taking off.
I don't even make it a complete step before being grabbed from behind, an arm wrapping around my waist and halting my escape. Only the very beginnings of a scream bubbles up my throat when a gloved hand clasps over my mouth to keep me silent, and I kick out my feet and attempt to bite as I'm yanked against a hard chest.
Whoever grabbed me hardly seems to struggle with my attempts to fight, but that doesn't stop me.
Blood rushes through my ears, and both my knees and elbows burn as my fighting rips open my still-fresh cuts. The pain is intense, like a hot poker being shoved into open flesh, but adrenaline has the pain falling to the back of my mind.
I grab and rip at the hand covering my mouth, attempting to pry it away, but nothing I try works.
"Lehmego," I cry, my words muffled.
There's movement to my right, and I shrink up as Mason enters my line of sight. That means it's Kieran holding me.
Mason runs a hand through his hair, pushing the wavy dark strands out of his face, before he steps closer. For once, he doesn't look cocky, and he refuses to make eye contact as he grabs the bottom of my sweatshirt and tank top and pulls up.
The fabric gets caught on Kieran's arm, but the two effortlessly work together to rid me of the clothing.
I try to scream during the brief second Kieran removes his hand from my mouth, but he's too quick. His gloved palm is slapped back over my face in a heartbeat.
Tears stream down my cheeks, making it hard to see, but every attempt I make to blink them away is unsuccessful. I'm crying too much, and I sob into Kieran's hand as Mason reaches for my bottoms.
He left my sports bra in place, but it brings no comfort.
My leggings are yanked down my legs, my underwear getting caught and pulled in the process. I clench my thighs together, and Mason lets out a muffled curse before grabbing the sides of my underwear and pulling them back up.
"We're not going to hurt you," he promises.
It's the first time he's spoken to me, and I respond by trying to kick him in the balls.
I don't make it far considering my leggings are trapped around my ankles, making it impossible to spread my legs far.
Mason grabs my knee, his fingers curling around the bandage before he roughly shoves my foot to the ground. He kneels a second later and rips off my shoes and socks, and the moment they're removed, Kieran's walking me toward the river.
I attempt to drag my heels against the ground and slow him, but I'm largely ineffective.
Kieran continues holding me captive against his chest as he walks us into the river, destroying any hope I might've had about swimming away. His grip is tight, giving me no opportunity to break free even as the frigid water brushes against my waist.
My feet slip against the smooth rocks, but Kieran doesn't seem to have the same issue as he pulls us further into the water, continuing until it's up to my shoulders.
"The wash," Kieran says.
He sounds calm and in control, and I fucking hate it.
Mason remains on the shore, all our bags piled together by his feet. He must've gathered them while Kieran was forcing me into the water, and he reaches into his bag and pulls out a small ball.
It's white and about the size of a soap bar, but I don't get a good look before he tosses it to Kieran.
The arm wrapped around my waist is removed, but the one covering my mouth remains. I try to run, but the rushing water and slippery rocks keep me trapped against Kieran.
Kieran catches the ball Mason throws in his direction, and a second later, it's brought to my shoulder. I flinch, water flying through Kieran's fingers and into my mouth as I try to shrivel up and move away.
My teeth chatter as the water's cold temperature sets in, and my limbs grow stiff as my joints lock up.
Kieran's still fully dressed, and his clothing clings to my bare skin as the strong current repeatedly pushes me against him.
It's probably a good thing I didn't try to jump in and swim away. There's no way I'd be able to stay afloat in this. I'd probably hit my head on a rock and drown before I managed to pull myself out.
I continue screaming into Kieran's palm, but it's not as loud as I'd like. Between yesterday's choking and today's dehydration, my voice is about gone.
Kieran drags the wash contraption down my arm. It feels like a rag, but it suds up like soap.
"This will be quicker if you stop fighting," Kieran grunts.
Fuck him.
He continues holding his hand over my mouth, and I cringe as I taste the leather of his gloves. It mingles with the copper of blood from where I must have accidentally bit my tongue.
"Mace..." Kieran says.
Mason's been standing on the riverbank watching this entire time, but he doesn't hesitate to storm in the moment he's called. He's still fully dressed, just like Kieran, and he makes his way toward us with quick, angry movements.
I try to swim away, but the attempt is useless.
Mason's on us in a heartbeat, and he takes the soap from Kieran before grabbing my arm and bringing it above the water. I cry into Kieran's hand as Mason forcibly removes my bandage and washes my elbow, scrubbing the already sore skin raw.
Kieran takes this as his opportunity to wrap his other arm around my waist, locking me back into place.
I can barely breathe, and I hyperventilate as Mason grabs my other arm and gives it the same painful treatment. He moves to my legs next, reaching underneath the water to grab my ankle and rip it into the air.
I'm not nearly as flexible as he seems to think, and I almost immediately begin to topple over. Kieran smoothly absorbs my fall, keeping us both upright despite my thrashing. I'm too panicked to plan or plot a coordinated escape, which I'm sure I'll regret later.
I writhe in Kieran's arms as Mason rips the bandages off my knees and scrubs the raw skin.
It's too dark to tell if it's bleeding, but it sure as fuck feels like it.
"We're almost done," Kieran whispers, his breath hitting my ear.
I hate it, and I pull my face away from his as Mason drops my leg and grabs my other one. For a brief moment, neither of my feet are touching the ground and Kieran is the only thing holding me upright.
"You're hurting her," Kieran snaps as Mason begins scrubbing my other knee.
Mason looks up, finally meeting my gaze. It holds nothing—no emotion, no remorse, no regret. This is easy for him, and I don't want to think about what comes next.
"She's fine," Mason argues.
The soap grows smaller as he uses it, and once he's finished, he tosses it into the water and spins around. Kieran follows, pulling us to the shore.
My pleading begins again, but it's impossible to hear what I'm saying through Kieran's hand. I don't want this.
____
I'm so sorry please don't hate me
Next chapter is Mason's POV!
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