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Brantley
I already knew about the curse and Veronica’s obsession with it. What I didn’t know was the length she would go just to “break it.” I trusted her. I fucking trusted her. The only person outside of my circle I trusted, and it wasn’t just any trust. It was a kind of trust that only came from years and years of labor.
“Madison is acting fucking weird.” Bishop ends the call, tossing his phone on the table that parts both our aisles.
“Is that uncommon, or?” Nate asks, sipping his vodka. “Just saying, Tillie has been the same.”
“Nah.” Bishop grinds his teeth. “She’s hiding something from me.”
“Why do you say that?” I ask, watching him carefully. This jet is filled up with all our front-line soldiers, excluding Eli. Spyder is near the front with his right hand, and a couple of Rebel members behind him. Yeah. Never would have thought I’d see the fucking day that a Rebel, well two, were sitting in the same jet as us. Who would have known?
“She was in a rush to get off the phone. Distant.”
“You have PTSD, bro,” Nate says, flicking his fingers up and down. “She’s run too much.” The sides of his jaw flex. I know Nate just hit the fucking point. I ignore them both and settle back into my seat.
“Shouldn’t you all be pissed that they went and saved her without you?” Spyder calls out from his chair. He and Tate have been flying back and forth since they landed in Perdita. He’s probably thankful she’s not with the girls right now and tucked away back on common ground.
Bishop answers smoothly, “No. I trust they’d keep each other safe. Ain’t no one love those girls more than us but each other.”
I know Saint is safe, and that’s enough for now. The next thing I have to think about is how I’m going to end Veronica.
Landing in Perdita isn’t for the weak. The plane always needs to dip and turn and twist. At one point, it feels like we’re about to tilt over. Nate hates it every time we come. The pretty little psycho has a fear of flying.
“Question,” I ask, kicking up my feet. We’re traveling straight to Valentina’s in the limo-style Hummer. These roads aren’t for the average car, considering we have to trench through bush to get to the mainland. They made it this way on purpose to protect the people. “If Tillie wants to take over this island, would you let her?”
Nate looks up from where he’s staring at the ground, his eyes coming to mine. “Never.” His head tilts. “Would you with Saint? Seems her speed. Seclusion, quiet…”
I clench my fist in my hand.
He chuckles and sits back in his seat. “Exactly.”
The trip continues, and twenty minutes later, we’re driving down the main strip of Perdita, heading right for the famed marble gates. The sun is begi