Captured By The Mercenaries

She opened her mouth to argue.

“Now,” I bit out.

She snapped her jaw shut and got up, eyes warily looking at the cliff surrounding us. I watched her make her way to us, then returned my gaze to scanning the rocks when her body pressed against my side. My hand went to the back of her neck, more for my own comfort than anything.

“Into the tent,” I told her after we stood, frozen, for a brief minute.

“Sig, stick close to the campsite,” Rafe ordered. “We’ll go check the rest of the area.”

“I can help,” Colby insisted.

“You’ll get into the tent like Arsen asked you to,” Rafe returned.

Colby glared at him, then me, but obeyed. She muttered the whole way over, “He didn’t ask me to do shit. He told me what to do, just like all you dicks do.”

My lips twitched and I caught Rafe rolling his eyes skyward as if silently asking for patience so he didn’t throttle her. Most of the time I found her little rebellions adorable. Not when there was danger nearby, though. At least she had the sense to mutter to herself and not outright argue with us, not now.

We searched throughout the day, until the darkness forced us back to camp. There was nothing to find. No sign of anyone, but we had found a stray mule wandering around. He was likely the culprit.

We brought him back to the campsite and I watched in amusement as Colby petted and crooned to him. She offered him water and whatever suitable food she could find.

“We can’t leave him here,” she told us, eyes pleading. The creature was thin and malnourished; the mountains didn’t offer him enough sustenance.

“You can keep him,” Sig offered as we all crawled into our tent to sleep. That seemed to appease her.

Colby didn’t struggle when Rafe pulled her into his arms and settled against her back. That was a good sign. We were leaving early in the morning and I was hoping it wouldn’t be a journey filled with arguing.