Secrets and Scars: A Gripping Psychological Thriller (Fatal Hearts Series Book 3) Read Free Page A

he found out what I’d done to Alvin? Would he still defend me, or would he place me in the same category as Alvin? I wasn’t ready to find out quite yet—not unless I wanted to risk being left stranded in a jungle.
    “Let’s go. I’m pretty sure he didn’t stop searching all night.”
    Before we continued our journey, we dismantled the shelter and made the area look as undisturbed as we could. Alvin would only need to spot a few crumbs or an empty bottle to help him figure out where we were headed.
    Owen picked up the sack, threw it over his shoulder, and glanced at me. “Should I take another look at your back?”
    “No.” I ignored the itch of my wounds. “I think what you did last night helped. I feel better.” The truth was, each second we stood in one place brought us closer to danger, and I didn’t want him to waste our supplies. Who knew how long we still had to go?
    “If you’re sure.” Owen started walking, pulling out the map he’d found in Alvin’s notebook.
    He slowed down so we could study it together. I was never much good at reading maps, so I left it to him.
    “Want to know how far we are from the yacht?”
    “Not really. Just tell me when we’re close.” In some cases, not knowing was better. Less room for disappointment.
    This time, as we jogged, Owen didn’t take my hand. I was stronger than yesterday, better able to move without support.
    A soft drizzle had fallen overnight, and a coolness lingered in the early morning air, which smelled of damp earth and wildflowers. In another place and time, I would have reveled in the smell. But not today. So many things I had loved before had been taken away from me, so many moments I had enjoyed had proven to be lies. Everything I had lived for was an illusion. Once I arrived home—if I ever did—I’d have to completely reinvent myself. Again.
    Before any thoughts of the HIV could pop into my mind, I forced myself to snap out of the negativity and deal with it later.
    At least I had my life back, for now. If it was worth saving, it was worth living.
    When the air started to warm in the sun, we slowed again. Panting, I tipped my head back and gazed up at the sky through the opening in the canopy. I so wished to be out in the open, to walk on the beach, to watch the waves instead of just hearing them. For a sliver of a moment I pretended everything was fine, that Owen and I were on a hike, not on the run from certain death. But the moment was brief. Alvin pushed himself to the edge of my mind, but before he could penetrate it, Owen yanked me out of my thoughts.
    “Fuck!” he growled, as branches snapped below his feet and he began to fall into a pit in the ground.
    Fortunately I had been walking close, and I lunged forward, falling to the ground and gripping his hand. I inched forward as he clung to me, almost pulling me into the trap.
    I used my free hand to grab a protruding root. My hand and skin stretched as I moved forward, my breath hitching inside my throat. My back screamed as the cuts that had started to heal cracked open again.
    “Hold on to me.” I squeezed my eyes shut and gritted my teeth. I would not let him fall. I would not let go.
    Owen tightened his hand around my fingers, which threatened to snap under his weight.
    With a loud groan from both of us, he hauled himself higher and grabbed onto the wooden rim of the pit, relieving me of the pressure of his weight.
    “Thanks.” He took several deep breaths, then climbed back out, sweat pouring down his face.
    “Phew.” I rubbed my aching hand and wrist. The relief coursing through me made me want to hug him, but I stopped myself.
    “That was close,” I said instead. “Are you okay?”
    “You have no idea.” He dropped the sack at his feet—thank God it had not fallen in—and dusted himself off. His white t-shirt was dirty. “He’s close.”
    My heart slammed against my chest as he helped me to my feet. When he took my hand and we hurried forward, I asked him the