How?
No sooner do I think this than Dink slams into my legs. My knees buckle and I fall to the ground again. He climbs up my back and wraps his hands around my throat. I open my mouth to scream, but he covers my lips. I cry out through his fingers anyway.
Then he starts to push my head toward the fire.
Every muscle in my body tenses as my face nears the flames. I manage to push away from the heat a few inches, but he shoves me back down. The smell of burning hair fills my nostrils. My mind spins when I realize the scent is my own.
Deep in my throat, I scream. The sound is inhuman. I thrust myself away from the ground with every ounce of adrenaline I have. Dink soars from my back. Turning around, I ready myself to fight him. But when I see the boy, he’s lying on his back, staring up at Guy.
Switchblade in hand, Guy crouches on one knee and jabs the other knee into Dink’s chest. The boy kicks and thrashes and flails his arms. But mostly, he makes that strange hissing noise. Guy raises the knife above his head.
“No!” I scream.
But it’s too late.
Guy plunges the blade into Dink’s chest. The boy’s mouth falls open and his eyes widen. He pulls in four sharp breaths, and then his eyelids slide closed. They stop midway, so that I can still see the red brown of his irises. I cover my face and shake my head. This didn’t just happen. It didn’t. It didn’t.
When I uncover my face, tears streaming down my cheeks, I see Guy pulling off Dink’s boots.
“Wh-what are you doing?” I choke. “Leave him alone.”
He doesn’t stop. Just keeps tugging off his right boot and then his left. He rips the boy’s stiff white socks off next and leans in. Glancing over his shoulder, he motions me to come closer.
I shake my head.
“Tella, come here,” he says gently. But I can’t listen to what he’s saying when his hands are covered in Dink’s blood. I know the boy was trying to hurt me, but he was sick. We could have saved him.
Guy stands up and drags the boy toward me by the ankle.
“Stop it,” I say quietly.
But he doesn’t. And when he pulls the child close enough so that I can see what he’s trying to show me — I gasp.
T-33 is stamped on his foot.
Guy drops the boy’s ankle, and his leg falls to the ground with a thud.
Like honey dripping from a bottle, realization trickles through my mind: Caroline saying her and Dink’s Pandoras had perished; Dink pretending to have lost his device; Dink saving Caroline from the river with ease; Dink building a fire without the use of anything flammable.
Dink is a Pandora.
Dink is Caroline’s Pandora.
“No way,” I say, tears blinding my vision.
“There’s nothing we could have done.” Guy says it like I’m feral, like I might bolt into the desert and never return if he speaks too loudly. He reaches toward me, and I curl into myself. I can’t look at him right now. He saved me. But he killed Dink. But he saved — “Tella, there was something wrong with it,” he continues. “The Creators went too far when they made this one.”
“I don’t know how I missed it,” I whisper. I look up into his eyes. “I don’t know how I never —”
I stop talking and a shiver races over my skin.
Titus is standing behind Guy.
“Guy!” I scream.
Titus brings his arm around Guy’s throat before he can react. He snaps his head backward and Guy’s eyes bulge. I race toward him, but someone grabs the back of my shirt and yanks me against his chest.
“Hey, beautiful,” a voice says against my neck. I cringe against the sound and land an elbow in his gut. He releases me, and I turn on the guy. He’s easily a foot taller than me, and is no doubt one of Titus’s friends, but right now I feel like a weapon. Like I could take down an army of Tituses.
I stomp on the guy’s boot and then throw my palm into his nose. A cracking sound splits the air, and the guy crumbles to his knees. I feel another pair of arms clamp down on my shoulders and yet another pair grab my legs. The two guys lift me into the air and I erupt with anger. I kick and scream and bite and tear with my nails. But it’s no use.
No use. Until Harper appears with Jaxon and Caroline — and our pissed-off Pandoras — at her heels.
“Get. The hell. Away from her.” Harper catches up to us and lands a blow on the guy holding my arms. He releases me and turns to wrestle with her instead. I watch her for only a moment, but it’s enough to realize that — though I’ve always thought of Harper as indestructible — I’ve grossly underestimated her.
She isn’t a Contender.
She’s a warrior.
Harper takes down a guy nearly twice her size as I wrestle with another who keeps going for my legs. Over my shoulder, I hear the screeches and cries of our Pandoras engaging the Triggers’ Pandoras. My gut twists as I think of Madox fighting. But right now I have to concentrate on the guy in front of me. The one sneering like I’m his next meal.
When I hear Caroline wail, I realize she’s found Dink’s body. I want so badly to go to her. To tell her everything will be okay. But I can’t risk turning my back right now.
From the corner of my eye, I spot Titus’s grizzly bear limping toward the fire. He opens his jaws and roars. The second time he roars, he also raises his paws, and a driving wind floods from his mouth and paws. I stop, startled, and watch as the fire blazes higher. As more wind pours from the bear’s mouth and claws, sand washes over the flames.
The blaze drowns.
I spot Caroline on the ground, Dink’s broken body lying over her lap.
And then there is only darkness.
A pair of hands encircles my stomach and hauls me away from the battle. I can hear Harper screaming in agony as I’m dragged away from my friends. Away from Guy.
Away from Madox.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
It’s daylight when I come to. My hand flies to my head, and I groan. There’s a hard lump beneath my fingers that hurts when I touch it. For a moment, I can’t remember why. Then I see Titus squatting by his grizzly bear. He’s sharpening his knife against a stone. The steady slink-slink-slink it emits makes my head pound.
He stops and looks over. A slow smile parts his mouth. “You’re awake,” he says, as if we’re old friends instead of a guy and the girl he knocked unconscious. “You’ve been moaning over there for a good hour. Thought you’d never come around.” He points the tip of his knife to his forehead. “Sorry ’bout the blow.”
Glancing around, I notice six other guys sleeping. They’re spread out like skydivers along the sand. All except one, who’s curled into a tight ball. It’s an odd sight, given that he must weigh three hundred pounds.
I pull myself up and wrap my arms around my waist.
“I took your device and your knife,” he says. “And your canteen.” Titus stands up and walks toward me. I pull into myself as he crouches down. “Oh yeah. And your Pandora.”
He points the knife over my shoulder at something.
Spinning around, I spot at least a dozen Pandoras. My eyes scan each of them quickly. “Madox!”
I scramble for my black fox, but Titus grabs on to my legs and drags me toward him. He wrenches me to my feet and presses our foreheads together. “I see you’re going to need some breaking,” he says.
I jerk my head back and locate my Pandora. He has a rope around his neck that is tied to a tree. Many of the smaller Pandoras are secured in the same fashion. The Triggers must have used all their rope from the orange packs in order to imprison these creatures. A few Pandoras aren’t secured, and I wonder why they don’t flee. Among them are Titus’s grizzly, which I assume stays out of loyalty for his Contender. But the stolen Pandoras should have no such loyalties.