The arrow dug deeper into my back. I tried to twist and turn to get away from the pain, but it followed me everywhere. She pressed harder.
“Stop,” I croaked. “Please. I’m sorry. It was an accident. You’re hurting me.”
Lana didn’t deter. I felt the arrow piercing my skin, reaching my bone. I hated begging, hated lowering myself to asking for mercy. With a yelp, I turned around and pushed her with all my strength. I let out a feral growl that felt like it wasn’t even coming from me. She flew back, collapsing to the mud. I ran toward her, realizing I’d pushed her by the arrow.
I crouched down. “Lana? Oh my God. Are you okay?”
What have I done now?
She lay on the bed of yellow and orange leaves, blinking lethargically at the raining sky—the way I’d seen that boy from the castle do all those years ago—defying the rain, and the hail, and the wind. Standing up to the darkness.
The arrow was stuck in Lana’s stomach. A red stain began to form around it through her fleece jacket.
No. No. No.
“Never…forgive…you.”
Those were her last words before my parents found us.
Before she was rushed to the hospital.
Before Dad made the entire thing go away, making sure no one knew what happened—about dead Spot, about how Lana suffered a bowel injury called peritonitis, where some of the contents of her intestines spilled into her stomach and caused an infection she suffered from for weeks. She was bedridden, alone in the hospital, with her uncle only returning after he’d finished his vacation, during which he’d married his girlfriend.
I knew Lana would make good on her promise to get back at me.
I never adopted any pets.
Never had the courage to fall in love and get attached to boys.
And I bided my time until I knew I could win.
The day of my match with Lana, I came to the range an hour early, knowing she’d be practicing. I was right. I lurked under the roofed stands, watching her draw an arrow and send it spiraling to the inner red mark of the target. A clean kill. Lana was good, at least in all the places she wasn’t bad.
The four judges from the Olympic committee had already entered the club. Junsu and the staff were talking to them upstairs. Their bags were at the reception area. Before I went to the range, I asked Bill if he could go outside and see if there were any photographers. I promised I’d keep an eye on the bags. He agreed. As soon as he was out of sight, I planted what I needed in each of the judges’ suitcases. When he came back, I pressed a wet kiss to his cheek.
“Thank you for being a great friend.”
“Sure thing. Thank you for being the least scary warrior I’ve ever met.”
I smiled. I knew it was goodbye.
He didn’t.
I’d spent the night trying to figure out how I was going to use the information Hunter had given me about Junsu and Lana in a way that wouldn’t frame him, and I hadn’t slept a wink.
At the range, I made my way straight to Lana’s target. The ground was soft beneath my feet, but I knew better than to think the fall would be anything short of painful.
I stopped when my back was pressed against the target, standing in front of Lana, daring her to draw. We were alone out here. She could, if she wanted to.
Lana lowered her bow, her eyes narrowing into suspicious slits.
Wordlessly, I threw something between us. A simple bandana, offering her a rematch.
A smile tugged over her lips. The taunting kind.
“So sorry I had to sample your boyfriend. Not knowing what he tasted like was a mystery I couldn’t bear,” she purred sweetly.
Even though I believed Hunter, her words still hit me somewhere deep. I wanted to pounce on her and tear her limbs for even uttering his name. He was mine, even when he wasn’t.
I smiled back at her. I had a plan. “Take the bandana.”
“I can kill you, even blindfolded.”
“Please do. Was he good?” I asked, watching as she made her way to the bandana in the middle of the space between us.
“So you don’t know? You two haven’t spoken?”
I shook my head. She thought he’d kept her secret.
“He was great.” She flipped her shiny hair to one shoulder, still walking. “I might see him today for dinner after I’m done whooping your ass. We’ll see. The Patriots’ quarterback also wants a date. It’s hard being me.”
“I can imagine,” I said.
She picked up the bandana, went back to her spot, and tied it over her eyes. Raising her bow, she aimed at me. My heart was in my throat. I wanted to move away, to punch my own face for what I’d gotten myself into. Lana’s hands were steady, but her chest rose and fell quickly.