The Masked Truth(53)

“How is that fair?”

“It’s not. That’s life. Blatantly unfair. And that’s our pact.”

“No, if you fall, I’ll stop.”

“Then I’d better not fall. I, however, am not injured. You are. Now stop arguing and get in that room, because I’m not taking another step until I know you’re safe, and if you come out …”

She waits, and then says, “What’ll you do if I come out?”

“An undetermined threat. Always the worst sort. Rather like signing a blank check. Terribly dangerous. Now, stay, Riley.”

“Woof.”

“Good girl.”

Her leg is only the excuse for putting her in that room. The real reason? If she hasn’t seen Brienne dead already, then she doesn’t need to.

Brienne is just around the next corner. She ran down it, and Gray came around the corner and …

No need to think of that. It won’t do any good. Max jogs around the corner and sees her, lying sprawled, arms and legs akimbo.

Akimbo: limbs flung out widely or haphazardly.

He’s heard the word before. Understands the meaning in theory. Now he sees exactly what it means, because it is the first word that comes to mind. Brienne looks like a rag doll dropped from the ceiling, her limbs every which way, her head turned to the side, her eyes shut.

Gray shot her in the back.

Coward.

Max snorts to himself. What does he expect? They are cowards. Which makes them no less dangerous. Perhaps more. Contempt is no defense against pistols at ten paces, a shot through the back of a running girl.

Coward or not, Gray won. An innocent girl lost.

Max looks for Predator’s gun, but Gray obviously took it. He moves carefully past the blood. Yes, there is blood. Less than with Aaron, but it soaks her shirt and seeps from under her. He crouches beside Brienne. Her eyes seemed shut, but he sees they’re half open. He reaches to close them, as Riley did for Aaron. Her eyelids flicker, and he falls back.

“Max?” Brienne whispers.

“You’re— you’re—”

“Not a ghost,” she says, her voice so faint he has to bend to hear it. “Not yet.”

“All right. Just hold on. We’ll—”

He starts to rise, but she whispers, “No.” Then she licks her lips, her tongue rasping over dry skin. “Nothing you can do.”

“No, we can—”

“Max. No. I …” Her eyes close as if it’s a struggle to talk. “I can’t feel anything. Can’t get up. Just find Riley.”

“I did. She’s safe. I—”

“Good. Get her out. Get both of you out. That’s your job.”

“But—”

“Don’t tell her I’m alive. If you do, she’ll come back for me.”

“I can’t—”

“Someone has to get out. That’s what she said. She’s right. That’s the goal. The only goal. Make something up. Tell her a story. You’re smart. You’ll figure it out.”

“But you—”

“I’ll keep playing dead. I fooled you, right?”

He says nothing. He can’t. He’s looking at her, arms and legs every which way, and that’s how she fell, and maybe she’s just staying like that in case Gray comes back, so he doesn’t realize she’s moved, but Max suspects that’s not the answer.

I can’t feel anything. Can’t get up.

He looks at the blood on her back. At the hole in the middle of her shirt.

Shot through the back. Barely holding on. Will she make it? She hasn’t said she will, hasn’t given any reassurances, because she can’t, because chances are …

Don’t think of that. Just don’t.

How can he leave her here? How can he tell Riley she’s dead when she isn’t?

Make something up. Tell her a story. You’re smart. You’ll figure it out.

He doesn’t want to figure it out. He wants to fix this. Help her. Leaving is wrong. So bloody wrong.

Except it’s not. It’s the right thing to do, for him and for Riley, like they did with Lorenzo, and it shouldn’t come to that—

How the hell has it come to that? Can he still be human if he does it?

And what is the alternative? No, really. What is the alternative? Brienne can’t move. He could drag her into a nearby room … probably hurt her worse and leave a blood trail that will tell Gray not only where she is but that she’s alive. That he needs to shoot her in the head. Like Aimee.

Max sucks in breath.

“Max,” she whispers. “Please. The longer you wait …”

“I know. I’m sorry.” I’m so sorry. “I’m going. We’ll get out. I have a plan. We’ll get you help.”

“Good lad,” she says, in an accent that’s probably supposed to be English.

She manages a quarter smile, and he returns it. He starts to get to his feet, then he bends over and says, “Riley said you wanted to be brave. You are.”

A real smile now. “I know.”





CHAPTER 20


Max comes back, and he doesn’t say a word. He just shakes his head. I hug him, and when he hugs me back, it’s fierce and so tight it steals my breath, as if he’s holding on before I slip away like the others.