With a nod, I slung both bags over my shoulder and hurried back to them.
“I gathered some supplies,” I said softly, my gaze going straight to a very pale Jasper. He didn’t look good.
“Any painkillers?” he half joked.
Holding a finger up, I dropped one of the bags and riffled through it. “You’re in luck,” I said, pulling out a small bottle, plus the packet Beck had given me earlier.
Dylan smiled at me, and I was pretty sure that was the first time I’d seen a true smile from him. “Thanks, Riley,” he said softly, taking the bottle from me.
He gave Jasper three of the small white pills and some water.
“Put the jacket on,” Evan said, noticing a thick black hood sticking out of the bag. “That’s mine. I’ll be fine.”
He was wearing a thick long sleeved shirt, unlike me, so I decided to take him up on that offer. “Thanks,” I said, slipping my arms in the sleeves before hauling the bags up again.
Beck leaned down then and helped Dylan lift Jasper to his feet. Gone was his cocky arrogance, and in its place was a pale, sweaty guy. “I think you should leave me here,” he bit out. “I’m a fucking liability to you like this.”
“No!” Beck snapped the word with force. “No man left behind. We’ll be fine.”
Jasper shook his head at his friend but didn’t argue. These four were close, and I was starting to really see it, especially in moments where their guard was down. Like right now. There was a true bond there, one which told me they would have each other’s backs no matter what.
“Did you try and call for help?” I had no idea where my phone was, but surely someone had theirs on them.
“No service,” Dylan said. “We’ll have to move toward a more populated area.”
“Is there anything around here like that?”
I had no idea about Canada except that they had a lot of uninhabited land.
“Guess we’re about to find out,” Jasper joked and then groaned as he leaned on Evan. They moved toward the back of the damaged plane. Beck gestured for me to go ahead of him, and I stepped in behind Dylan. On the way, both of them found two more fancy leather bags, and pulled out more warm clothing and other essentials. Apparently I was the only dickhead on this flight without clothes or a coat.
The heavy weight of the duffle bags was lifted from me, and I turned to find Beck with them both over his shoulder. “If you fall behind, you get left behind,” he warned me. “Keep up.”
I bristled, but I was too fucking tired and scared to fight with him, so I just turned around and moved closer to Dylan. I cursed myself for choosing last night of all nights to get wasted. Had I known today I would be in a plane crash followed by a trek through a snowy forest, I’d probably have rethought the alcohol.
The plane had landed in a densely packed part of the forest, and it was clear where we’d smashed through the trees and undergrowth. I almost couldn’t believe how much damage there was in the foliage around us, and it made me shudder all over again thinking about the fact that all of us could be dead right now. If Dylan didn’t know how to fly a plane—and how the fuck did he know that?—then we’d no doubt have landed nose first. Dead. Like my parents.
The pain was more of a dull slash this time, probably because I had some other things to worry about. Nothing like a fight for survival to take your mind off your dead parents.
No one spoke as we moved, and despite Beck’s warning, the pace wasn’t that fast. Jasper was just too injured to move quickly. Dylan stepped up at one point, and slipped Jasper’s other arm over his shoulders. It didn’t work that well because he was so tall, but they sort of figured out a rhythm.
We moved faster then, and I tried to ignore the pains in my body that pushed me to stop and rest. I was taking Beck’s warning seriously, fall behind and get left behind. And since they’d basically said we were being hunted by whomever had orchestrated the crash, I really didn’t want to find myself out here alone.
After what felt like days of walking, but was probably only three hours, Dylan held up a hand. “Jasper has to rest,” he said.
Evan and Dylan slowly lowered their friend to the ground. He groaned and dropped his head back against the tree he was leaning on. “More painkillers,” he said, sounding a little breathless.
Beck found them quickly, along with the water I’d packed, and handed them to Jasper. “Anyone else?” he asked.
I was half tempted, because my body was starting to hurt like a bitch, but Jasper needed them more. Touching my fingers to my temple, I remembered that Dylan was supposed to patch me up. “Let me look at that,” Beck said, catching me by surprise. I hadn’t even seen him move back my way, dude was stealthy. “I don’t have Dylan’s training, but I do okay.”
Dylan snorted from nearby, and I realized he had been sweeping the ground and setting up a makeshift shelter. “Don’t listen to Beck. He has as much, if not more survival skills than me. Our parents raised us to survive.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, looking between them while Beck lifted a white medical kit out, opening it and using something from inside to dab at my face.
I flinched when something cold and stingy hit my cut before gritting my teeth and staying still to let him finish. “Delta started out with five friends who were survivalists. They had a vision for a better life, and they worked together to make it happen. Ever since then, it’s been part of the successors’ training. Survival skills, martial arts, weapons training. We aren’t just rich, we’re ruthless and deadly,” Beck said slowly, tracing his fingers across my face, and sending a shock of energy through my body as I clenched my thighs to ease the ache he seemed to create in me with nothing more than a touch. “Dylan and I have been dropped in the middle of nowhere before, with nothing more than a knife and a bottle of water.”
“How old were you?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around what he was saying. I mean, these were the kids of billionaires. Not Bear fucking Grylls. How the hell did they survive?
“The first time we were eight,” Dylan said, still building his shelter. “The last time … fourteen.”
Beck released my face then, and I managed to start breathing normally again. His touch was lethal.
“Eight?” I couldn’t really wrap my mind around what they were saying. Their world was so foreign to the one I grew up in.
Beck froze then, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d said something to piss him off again, but when his head snapped to the side of the forest where we were, I knew it was nothing to do with me.
“Incoming,” he said softly.
“Incoming?” I repeated, feeling like the dumbest person in the forest. “What’s incoming?”
“Shhh.” Evan appeared beside me and covered my mouth with his hand. His attention wasn’t on me, though. It was glued to Beck, who had his head cocked slightly to the side like a wolf listening for hunters... or prey.
Beck’s sharp gaze jerked to his friends and he gave them a few short hand gestures before they all burst into action. Dylan hoisted Jasper over his shoulder and quickly deposited the injured boy into the makeshift shelter while Evan disappeared into the trees like a fucking shadow. In less than a second, he was just gone. Beck hesitated only a moment longer, staring at me with a totally unreadable expression. When he turned to leave, someone burst out of the trees and without a second thought, Beck raised one of his guns and shot the newcomer clean in the head. The gunshot cracked through the still night air, echoing and reverberating off the hills like some sort of fucked up foreshadowing.
I gasped, then clapped a hand over my own mouth as Beck fired another shot into the person’s body. He didn’t even glance back as he made like Evan and faded into the shadows.
Survivalists. I was starting to get a much clearer picture now. They literally would do anything to survive, and they had the training to back it up.
Sweet baby Jesus.
“Get in the shelter,” Dylan whispered in my ear, and I flinched at his nearness. How did he just move so silently? “Jasper is defenseless; I need you to stay with him.”
Something told me that was a pretty way of Dylan telling me to get the fuck out of the way, but I wasn’t arguing. Not by a long shot. Doing as I was told, I scurried into the shelter and watched with wide eyes as Dylan covered the whole thing with fallen leaves and tree branches. Just before he blocked our entrance, he crouched down and pulled a deadly looking knife from his boot.
“Here, take this,” he said softly, handing me the weapon. “From now on, you’re never to be unarmed. Understood?”
Stunned, and clutching the heavy knife in shaking hands, I just nodded.
“Stay silent, no matter what.” Dylan gave me a long, serious look, then shot a pointed one at Jasper. My injured companion gave a small, pain filled salute, but Dylan was already covering our opening and disappearing into the shadows.
For a long, tense moment, Jasper and I sat there. Neither of us spoke, and I barely breathed. The knife was still clutched between the cold and trembling fingers on my unbroken hand, and Jasper had sweat beading on his forehead.
“Jasper,” I started to whisper, placing my knife down in the frosted dirt, but he gave me a sharp head shake. It was clear he was telling me to shut up, but there was a pool of blood growing on the snow dusted ground beneath him. “Jasper,” I tried again, this time placing my lips against his ear and just barely breathing the words. “You’re bleeding. Lie down.”
I pulled back just enough to catch his brow rise in surprise. He did what I said, which worried me even more. It took longer than I’d have liked, but eventually he shifted until he was flat on his back—and all without making noise. It was fucking impressive.
The extent of my medical knowledge came from watching Grey’s Anatomy a million years ago, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. Instead, I carefully peeled his sweater up and found a deep puncture wound just above his hip. Like something had stabbed him and then been pulled free.