At night, Gerard allowed Alina’s guard number to drop to two. The men complained of the double night duty, but Gerard held firm, not trusting anyone to be alone with her. Alina didn’t know what Baylor had done, but every night when the men drank and became rowdy, she thanked him.
She sat by the smoldering fire as the men settled down, weary from the day’s hike. The Sad Cases waited for Gerard to lie down, then followed him as they did every night—without blankets or pillows, and wherever they happened to be standing. One lay on a thorn bush, and Alina’s only comforting thought was they seemed oblivious to pain.
The first guards of the night, Roy and Mick, sat on the ground with their backs against a log. Each night Alina stared into the dying embers as her guards chatted irreverently to keep themselves awake. Tonight, however, would be different.
She’d tracked Stan all day, which wasn’t easy as he disappeared into the trees and remained unseen for hours at a time. Gerard sometimes met him in the woods and handed him a small canvas bag. At dinnertime he left again, and this time Alina followed his direction as he returned.
“Wow, I’m beat,” groaned Roy, stretching his arms. “I hope I can make it tomorrow. Why Gerard is taking us straight over the blasted mountain, I’ll never know.” He swore under his breath.
Mick mumbled agreement through a yawn.
Alina had obeyed so far, never speaking to any of them, but Gerard’s snoring encouraged her. The men jumped when she spoke.
“If you want to go to sleep, go ahead. I won’t tell.”
They eyed her suspiciously. “Then you’ll take off and Gerard will leave us to the nightstalks,” Mick retorted.
She tried to sound calm. “You know I’m not going to run away. Gerard is overreacting, that’s all. Take turns sleeping, if you’re worried.”
“No way,” Roy said. “You’ll frame one of us.”
She chuckled. “And how would that benefit me?”
“I saw what happened to Hank. I won’t be alone with you.”
“Oh yes, Hank. I haven’t seen him around. Did he recover?”
They said nothing, but their silence revealed enough.
“It’s too risky,” she heard Roy mutter, but he sank lower against the log and stared at the fire, his eyes growing heavy. Mick was already lying on the ground. She regretted saying anything—they would’ve fallen asleep anyway.
They fought the drowsiness for a while before giving in, and once their breathing settled, Alina got up quietly and walked into the woods where she last saw Stan. Her eyes adjusted to the dark, and as she scanned the trees, she spied him several feet away, lying still on the ground.
He woke with a start when her hand closed around his neck. She held his throat firmly, like the night Hank threatened her, and pulled the hood back from his eyes.
“Tell me everything, Stan,” she demanded. “I’ll let go long enough for you to speak.” She let go of his neck but grabbed his hand and bent his fingers backward. Her other hand covered his mouth to stifle his scream. He tried, in vain, to pull her fingers from his mouth.
“You’ve forgotten how powerful immortals are,” she hissed. “You’re fighting against someone who can’t feel pain. But you on the other hand,” she seized his throat again, “are very vulnerable. What are you doing for Sampson? How are you helping Gerard?” She twisted his hand again.
Stan whimpered, “S-stop, please. I’ll tell you.” He waited for her to let go of his hand, but she didn’t. He winced as she tightened her grip.
“I’m trying to free my lover. She’s locked in Sampson’s dungeons, but he promised to release her if I brought you back. I’m doing this for her. Not for Sampson, or Pria.” He paused, his eyes pleading. “I have to,” he whispered.
He looked so desperate. Alina almost pitied him.
“You care so much about this woman, you’re willing to betray all your friends and help Sampson just to get her back?”
“My time with her is the only time I’ve been happy. In three hundred years.”
“Did you stop to think Sampson might be using you? That he doesn’t intend to release her—and if he did, she’d be like one of these lunatics sleeping nearby?”
Tears came to his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. If there’s the smallest chance I can free her, I’ll take it. I’d rather die without her, anyway.”
“You’re pathetic,” Alina snapped. “The most useful puppet Sampson could find. Live for yourself and forget her.”
Stan thrashed out at Alina, a sudden fire flaring inside him. She straddled his torso and pinned his arms to the ground.
“Don’t you say a word about her,” he ordered through clenched teeth.
“Tell me one more thing,” Alina demanded.
“What?”
“What protects you and Gerard? Is it something you carry?”
Stan stared at her for a moment, then smirked. “You should think about who you’re fighting against. Sampson doesn’t lose.” Then without warning, he hollered at the top of his lungs.
She grabbed his throat to silence him, but a rustle from camp sent her running back, worried she’d been missed.
Gerard loomed over the fire, his eyes hard as stone.
“What were you doing back there?” he demanded. The men were awake now, staring at Alina. Mick and Roy exchanged worried looks.
“N-nothing,” she stammered.
“NOTHING?” he bellowed. She covered her ears as he fired a string of expletives at her. She’d never seen him so angry.
He began kicking Mick and Roy on the ground. “OUT!” he screamed. “YOU’RE DONE! GONE! Finish them off, loonies!”
At these words, Mick and Roy fled into the woods. A pack of the Sad Cases chased after them, clutching their knives and snarling.
Gerard turned to the rest of his men, his eyes flashing. “This is what happens if you let me down. NONE OF YOU WILL KEEP ME FROM GETTING INTO PRIA!”
He marched to Alina, and she coldly met his eyes. He raised his hand as if to strike her, then dropped it and stormed into the
