Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“Some of the women here...” He stops, seeming to consider. “I don’t know how to put it. They love having babies. They think it’s their most important role here.”
I put my palms up. “I have no problem with that. If it’s their choice, it’s their business.”
“We agree with that. The X tats are...all-encompassing, I guess. They don’t explain each woman’s individual circumstances.”
I narrow my eyes, not liking where he’s going with this. “I don’t owe anyone explanations.”
“I agree.” He steps closer to me. “Look, my point is...I think you probably got jumped by a group of women who judged you based on that ink. And if you give me their names, they’ll be disciplined for it.”
I shrug and look away. “I didn’t get a good look at any of them.”
“Bullshit,” he mumbles before clearing his throat. “Anyway, probation lasts thirty days here. Then you’re a full-fledged one. And once that happens, any other one can ask you to step into the circle with them.”
I cross my arms. “What does that mean?”
“We have a circle over by the beach. An actual circle, where two people fight. There are rules: no weapons, no one else can enter the circle under any circumstances, and only one person walks out of the circle.”
I just stare at him for a couple long, dumbfounded seconds as I digest his words. “You mean...fight to the death?”
“Yeah. I’ve been in the circle a few times myself. And if you don’t tell me who attacked you, I’m pretty sure you’ll end up there on your thirty-first day here.”
His statement hangs in the air between us. It makes sense, then, why Marcelle didn’t kill me. She’s not allowed to beat me to death in her room, but in front of everyone else, it’s fine.
This place is fucked.
“That’s good to know.” I put my fists in front of me in a defensive stance. “Are you ready to go again?”
He exhales heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Briar, you’re not hearing me.”
“I hear you fine.”
“You don’t know how ruthless Tiders are.”
I throw my arms in the air and laugh, though I’m more angry than amused. “Add it to the list of things I don’t know around here. Why are there wolves? Why can fours run five miles in twenty minutes, and then do it again right after, like they just took a little stroll in the park? How did I recover from that beating in three days?”
He closes the last of the distance between us, so close I can feel the heat of his body. I tip my chin up so I can meet his gaze.
“This island is special,” he says in a low tone. “In time, you’ll see how.”
“You answered exactly zero of my questions.”
“Yeah, well...there’s a reason for that. I’m trying to help you here. If you want to live long enough to really experience what’s special about the island, you need to train every waking hour. You’re less than three weeks away from getting called to the circle.”
I’m failing. My plan was to lie low. Keep quiet, not make any waves, and bide my time. Learn what I can without anyone realizing I’m doing it. Stay focused on my goal of finding a way off this island. Instead, I’m showing Pax every single one of my cards.
“Okay, I understand.” I try to look apologetic. “You’re right. Let’s train some more.”
He nods. “No more roundhouse kicks. You finish those two business days after you start them. Fight dirtier.”
“Okay.”
I told him what I was thinking just now, and that was a mistake. I’m being smarter about the training, though. He knows I’m good at defending myself because doing so is instinctive. I can’t let people land punches on me when I know how to evade them.
He thinks my offensive skills are weaker. They aren’t. I’m deliberately holding back during training because I don’t want anyone here to know how strong a fighter I really am.
That’s one card I won’t play unless I have no choice.
An hour later, Pax is leading me through the jungle, the trail we’re on wide enough to accommodate three people walking side by side. It’s a different trail than the one we took from the beach to the Rising Tide camp.
The jungle is alive with monkeys chattering and birds singing, the steady hum of insects a constant in the background. A bright-green snake slithers up a nearby branch and I lean over, trying to get a closer look at it to identify the species.
“Stay in the middle of the trail.” Pax is carrying a spear, his demeanor serious and alert. “And don’t touch anything. You can die just from touching some of the stuff here.”
“Are there dart frogs? I’ve always wanted to see a blue poison dart frog.”
He squints skeptically. “This isn’t a zoo. Shit will kill you before you even know it’s happening.”