Chapter 846
The words played on a loop in her head, a relentless, torturous refrain. Each repetition was another twist of a knife that was already buried to the hilt in her heart.
Every belief she had held about her place in his life, every carefully constructed notion of her own uniqueness to him, now seemed like a naive fantasy. She wasn’t the first. She wasn’t the only one.
The column snaked its way further up the mountain, a line of exhausted shadows in the oppressive darkness. The atmosphere was heavier now, weighed down not just by physical fatigue, but by the ghost story that now haunted them.
An hour later, the first real casualty occurred.
It was Brenna. Her foot caught on a loose rock, and she went down hard, her body sprawling in the dirt. She tried to push herself up, but her legs, pushed far beyond their limits, refused to cooperate. They trembled and spasmed uselessly beneath her.
A sob of pure, hopeless exhaustion broke from her. “I can’t,” she cried, her voice muffled by the dust. “I can’t get up. I’m done.”
From further back in the line, Melanie Thorne’s voice, sharp and laced with venom, cut through the darkness.
“Pathetic,” she sneered, just loud enough for those nearby to hear. “Can’t even carry your own weight. You’re holding everyone back.”
A few of Melanie’s cronies snickered in agreement.
Caroline heard the words, but they registered as meaningless background noise. She didn’t even bother to look back. An enemy like Melanie Thorne was an insect, an insignificant gnat buzzing at the edge of the emotional cataclysm that had just consumed her world.
She stopped and walked back to where Brenna lay on the trail. She knelt beside her friend.
She didn’t offer words of encouragement. She didn’t try to pull her to her feet.
She unclipped her own canteen, held it to Brenna’s lips, and issued a command in a voice that was flat, cold, and utterly devoid of warmth.
“Drink.”
The tone was so devoid of emotion, yet so full of unyielding authority, that it startled Brenna out of her despair.
“It’s no use, Caroline,” Brenna wept. “I have nothing left.”
Caroline pressed the canteen harder against her lips. “I didn’t ask for your assessment. Drink.”
Stunned into obedience by the sheer force of will in Caroline’s voice, Brenna took a few shaky sips.
When she was done, Caroline reached over, unbuckled the straps of Brenna’s rucksack, and lifted the heavy pack off her. With a grunt of effort, she swung it around and clipped it onto her own chest.
She was now carrying the weight of two soldiers.
She held out a hand to Brenna. The command was the same. Cold. Unbreakable.
“Get up.”
Melanie’s mocking laugh echoed from the darkness. “Oh, look at Saint Thompson! Think you can carry her all the way to the top? You’re a fool!”
Caroline did not acknowledge her. Her entire focus was on the woman on the ground.