So much killing. It’s forever there. Always. I can’t ever outrun it.

“Davy,” Caden says softly, not looking at me, staring out at the horizon. “What happened to the others? We went to the campsite when Tabatha didn’t return, but couldn’t find much in the dark.”

I swallow past the lump rising in my throat. His hand slides down my arm, his fingers catching and tangling with mine. My chest squeezes, pleasure there, humming beneath my skin, and I stop myself from pulling my hand free like his touch is too intimate for me to bear.

“What happened to the others?” His thumb strokes the back of my palm, just the softest graze, but it sends goose bumps up my arm.

He wants to know what happened. Of course he does. He’s the self-appointed savior of this group. And there was more to his relationship with Tabatha. An image of her in Caden’s arms bombards me. Whether he initiated that kiss or not doesn’t matter. He’ll be hurt when he learns that she’s gone, and I shrivel a little inside at this, knowing I’ll be the one to tell him. To hurt him with the news.

And then I remember him kissing me. My lips pulse and tingle for an instant. I suck in a lungful of air and shove that away. I can’t do that. Not right now. This isn’t about Caden and me. There is no Caden and me.

He slides me a look, waiting for my response. I squeeze his hand a little tighter, our palms flush. “Executed. All of them.” I force the words out. “About a dozen men surprised us. I was going to the . . . bathroom when it happened. I crept closer to see all I could, but it was too late.” My gaze swings to Caden. He keeps pace, not breaking stride, but his jaw locks tight. “There’s more,” I whisper.

“More than that they butchered us? Killed my . . . ?” His voice fades here. His mouth draws tight, and something pinches inside my chest.

He scrubs a hand over his face.

“You don’t have to explain your relationship to me,” I say softly. She’s gone. And he doesn’t owe me any explanation.

“No?” He cuts me a glance. “Of course not. You don’t care. You left.”

There’s no heat to his words, but I flinch and resist arguing that I do care. That a huge part of me was driven to get back here not just for my sake but to warn him. To tell him there’s a mole in his organization. This could happen again if he doesn’t find out who. More carriers just trying to get across the border could die. The compound could be raided.

Caden could die. . . .

I stumble and his arm goes around my waist, steadying me. “Easy. It’s not too far from here. You covered a lot of ground today.”

I manage a wobbly smile and lean into that arm, reveling in its strength. Because I need the support, but maybe also because he feels so good and solid and I crave that desperately. “I didn’t know where I was going.”

“Well, you were headed in the general direction.”

“Luck,” I murmur, because my prayers couldn’t have been answered. No one is listening.

They’ve been answered before.

I sift through memories of me begging, pleading for someone to help me when I was shot. And then Caden found me. A lucky coincidence?

“You said there was more?”

“Someone betrayed you.”

He shakes his head but keeps moving, his hand warm in mine. “Impossible.”

“Is it?” I glance behind me and lower my voice. Not that I don’t trust Junie or Terrence or the other guy specifically. I just don’t think it’s a good idea for it to get around the compound that there’s a spy among them before Caden is ready for it to be known. “Isn’t that what you are all so hyperconscious about? I heard the attackers talking. They got a tip from someone in the resistance cell.”

Caden glances back at Junie and the other two scouts, apparently understanding my hushed tone. “Not a word of this to anyone. I’ll decide what to do when we get back. I don’t want to panic everyone. I’ll figure this out. I’ll figure out what to do.” His voice lowers to a mutter here, like he’s telling himself this. A mantra that will somehow come true.

Something inside me clenches tight. I want to say that I’ll help. That he doesn’t need to figure this out alone. That I’m in this with him. It’s a crazy impulse . . . the kind I would have had before, when I was a girl who believed in happy endings. I manage to hold these words inside.

He looks down at me like he senses my struggle. He gives my hand a slight squeeze. “Right now let’s just get back.”

I hesitate, not so sure that me going back to the compound is such a good idea. Do I really want back into that viper’s nest?

Do you really have a choice?

Like he can read my mind, he adds, “It’s safer than staying out here. Besides, if this spy wanted to expose the compound, he would have already informed on us.”

Good point. And one I can’t argue with. I’m too exhausted. So I breathe and let Caden lead me. Let the warmth of his hand seep into me and steady the skip of my heart. Viper’s nest or not, he’ll be there. I try to pretend this doesn’t mean so much. Everything, really.

* * *

Your experiment has failed. We’ve been overrun. The carriers raided our arsenal, stole several of the vehicles. Killed three of our staff, injured over a dozen. They were long gone before we could even get up and functional again. . . .

The camp is lost.

—Correspondence to Dr. Louis Wainwright from Commander Harris, Director of Operations at Mount Haven