She reached for a bag, but Deimos tugged it from her, eyeing her with concern. He already had a heavy pack on each shoulder and carried her one in his arms.

“Let’s go,” he said softly. “Ellie and Thrym will be waiting.”

* * *

Knot 27 sat waiting in the shadows of the short alleyway. Five bulging packs were arranged in a row, the objects within them the only chance they had to survive the wilderness.

Ellie and Thrym had managed to get basic medicine, but none of the anti-venom and antibiotics they’d planned to steal.

Her heart thumped wildly in her chest as they waited for the patrol to pass.

The ringing was still there, lessened, but not gone; muted enough to allow Romy to think coherently for the time being. She should be entirely focused on the escape, but something happened to her when she killed Lucas.

Something terrible. Something felt off, as though she were a shadow of herself.

She jumped as Phobos shuffled beside her. He reached out an arm and rubbed her back. Romy usually liked it, but at that moment it felt like he was grinding gravel into her skin. Her brows drew tight and she pushed his arm away, turning to stare at the fence. Bile rose in her throat for the umpteenth time as she remembered the blood spurting from Lucas’s throat. Romy whimpered, rocking a little in place as the ringing intensified.

Thrym held his finger against his lips. The moonlight shined off his dark skin.

Soft voices drifted towards them from the other side. The voices sounded just a few metres away in the silent night, but Romy knew from Eddie that the patrols moved fifty metres or so inside the tree line. On the hour.

As agreed, the group waited a further ten minutes once the patrol had passed.

Romy was first to stand.

She had to move. If she didn’t move, she’d scream.

She approached the fence and slid the hidden panel aside. “Packs over the top,” she murmured through stiff lips.

“What happened to her?” the whisper came from behind.

Romy ignored the question. Ducking through, she quickly surveyed the area for signs of life.

All was quiet.

Romy winced at the grating noise as Phobos forced his body to move through the fence. Leaving the others to deal with the packs, Romy crept to the vehicle and in rustling increments drew the leafy cover to the ground.

On second thought, she rolled the material up into a bundle and shoved it into a corner of the car boot.

“This is a heap of junk,” Elara hissed.

Phobos snorted. “Feel free to go get us the most recent model, princess.”

“Quiet,” Romy snapped. “Elara, go take off the stopper so we can roll it.”

“Handbrake,” was her muttered reply.

Thrym pushed in the fourth pack. The fifth wouldn’t fit.