Chapter 44: Bloody Heart: Chapter 44

I run north toward the spot the starlings avoided. I know there’s a human there.

As I approach, I bring my scope up to my shoulder and scan the area. I see what looks like a figure, laying prone on top of the ridge, and I grin. I recognize my old rifle. Raylan found us.

The figure isn’t Raylan—it’s my clothes, stuffed with branches and leaves, positioned to look like a person. It’s a decoy. Raylan is trying to draw Du Pont in. Which means that he’s got to be close by, waiting for Du Pont to show himself.

I take my own position, forming the third side of a triangle. The decoy is the point—Raylan and I are the other two corners. Hopefully Du Pont will walk right into the middle.

The woods are silent. No birdsong or chirping frogs. There’s too many people around. The animals know where we’re here.

I slow my breathing, scanning the woods through my scope.

Then I hear a sound that makes my blood freeze. Simone’s scream: “DANTE LOOK OUT!”

A rifle fires. The dummy tumbles off the top of the ridge.

I swing my barrel around, searching for the shooter, or for Simone.

Raylan spots her first—he’s closer to her. She’s running away through the woods, naked and covered in mud.

Raylan grabs his smoke grenade, pulls the pin, and flings it down behind her. It detonates, throwing up a screen of smoke, shielding her from Du Pont.

Unfortunately, it also shields Du Pont from me. And it leaves Raylan wide open.

I hear the sound of Du Pont’s rifle, echoing through the trees. Then a grunt that has to be Raylan. A body falls down the ridge, rolling over as it goes. Raylan was wearing a vest, same as me, but a vest won’t stop a high-caliber bullet. It only slows it down a little.

I’m torn between the need to check on Raylan, and the need to follow after Simone.

Really, there’s no choice—my feet are already turning in Simone’s direction, and I’m running after her, determined to get to her before Du Pont can.

I hear a shriek and the sound of splintering branches. FUCK. Another trap. I’m running full out, my shoulder throbbing like a drum, my heart thudding so loud that I can hear it in my ears.

I’m crashing through the trees, branches whipping at my face, running toward the sound of that scream.

I reach a clearing and I see Du Pont standing at the edge of a pit, rifle raised, pointed down at Simone. Simone is clinging to the soft, crumbling ground, looking up into Du Pont’s face with an expression of pure terror.

He’s already got his gun pointed right at her. If I shoot him in the head or the back, he may jerk the trigger and kill her.

No time to think. No time to aim.

I raise my rifle, without even using the scope. I point and shoot.

Du Pont’s trigger finger explodes in a mist of blood.

Snarling with rage, he wheels toward me.

I shoot him three more times in the chest.

He’s frozen in place, teeth bared, eyes bulging.

Then he topples over, tumbling down into the pit.

I run to Simone, grabbing her by the wrists. I pull her up out of the hole, wrapping her in my arms and pressing her against my chest.

“Dante!” she sobs. “You’re alive!”

I kiss her everywhere. Her hands, her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. She’s covered in mud, and I don’t give a shit. I strip off my shirt and put it on her naked body—it’s so big on her that it hangs down almost to her knees. I take off my boots and put my thick wool socks over her bloody, battered feet. Then I scoop her up in my arms and carry her.

She lays her head against my chest, shivering so hard I can barely hold her at first, then slowly relaxing, and sinking into the warmth of my body.

I carry her back the way we came, back to where Raylan fell.

“I’m so sorry,” Simone sobs.

“Don’t you ever be sorry,” I tell her, my voice thick with all the things I’ve wanted to say to her, all this time. “I love you, Simone. I have loved you, and I always love you. I’m never going to stop. Wherever you go, whatever you do, you have my heart in your hands.”

“I love you so much,” she cries, her voice cracking. “I can’t believe you found me . . .”

“I’ll always keep you safe,” I promise her.

“Is Henry—” she cries.

“He’s safe, too. He’s with my father.”

She turns her face against my chest and cries harder than ever, with relief this time.

I carry her all the way back to the ridge.

I’m full of relief that Simone is safe. But the closer we get to Raylan, the sicker I feel, worrying that I’m going to find my friend’s body. Worrying that he sacrificed himself to save the woman I love.

I find the spot where he fell, and I set Simone down so I can look around, over ground that’s rough and muddy, where the leaves are churned up, and I can see a streak of dark blood.

“Oh, there you are,” a wry voice says. “ ‘Bout time. I almost finished my Sudoku.”

I whirl around.

Long Shot is propped up against a tree, holding his hand to his side. I can see blood seeping through the cracks between his fingers.

“Raylan!” I shout, running over to him.

“Relax,” he says. “I’m not dying. It just fucking hurts.”

Du Pont’s bullet has torn out a chunk of his side, even through the Kevlar vest. The hip of his jeans is soaked with blood, but he’s made a kind of compress out of moss, and it does look like the bleeding has slowed down.

Tying the compress on with the remains of Raylan’s shirt, I haul him up. Simone helps support him from the other side.

“I’ve got him,” I tell her.

“No, it’s okay,” Simone says, serious and determined. “I can help.”

Supporting Raylan between us, we start walking back out of the woods.

Raylan is pale, but he looks over at Simone with curiosity.

“Nice to finally meet you,” he says. “I can’t say Deuce told me a lot about you, because as you know, he’s not a man of many words. But when we managed to get him drunk once in a blue moon . . .”

“Watch it,” I warn him. “I can still leave you out here for the wolves.”

Simone shakes her head at me.

“Thank you,” she says to Raylan, sincerely.

“Of course,” he says. “Deuce didn’t say much, but he said enough for me to know you were a girl worth saving.”

He squints at me.

“You did kill Du Pont, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” I nod.

“Good,” he says, wincing. “I never liked that guy. Did I tell you he used to eat his peas one at a time? I should have known then he was nuts.”