Page 77 of Reverie

“I’ll do it,” she says in a soft voice, and my heart drops to the floor.

Misha grins. “What was that, little one?”

Ella looks at Misha, and I realize that she’s likely a little in awe of him, but then, I can imagine he represents a lot to her. And to us. He’s the strong, un-fuck-with-able older brother who guarantees her protection in the face of insane danger without batting an eye.

So of course she wants to do whatever he says.

“Yes, I’ll do it. What do I need to do?” Ella’s energized words cause me to start pacing.

Wrong. This is wrong.

“Ella,no,” I shout, and the snap of sound causes her to jump.

Amelia falls into a chair, placing her head in her hands. After a beat, she looks up to Ella. “Are you sure, Ellie? You really don’t have to,” Amelia murmurs.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she says, straightening her spine. “I can do this.”

“Fuck,” Leo swears, the words a sharp rasp. When I glance at him, his eyes zero in on Ella, but the look he gives her refuses to compute in my brain. Before I can make anything more of it, he storms out the door.

“Ella,” I say, my heart cracking through my bones. “Please don’t do this.” My voice is practically a whisper.

When she stands to walk to me and places her hand on my forearm, I realize that I’m shaking.

“It’s going to be okay,” she says with a bright smile. Naive. She’s so fucking naive.

“You don’t know a fucking thing about what these people are capable of, Ella! Your whole life you’ve been sheltered. You’ve been protected from our father and the depraved shit he does to people. If I know anything at all, I know this: They will eat you alive.”

Maybe even literally.

The image of a group of blood-covered men consuming a woman causes me to turn from Ella and suppress a gag.

Her hand lands on my back. “H, you’ve got to let go,” Ella says, and she uses the tone she gives August when he’s having a meltdown.

Slow, measured, careful.

I shake my head because images of Ella being utterly destroyed flash through my brain.

I’m going to lose another person I love.

Putting a hand to my chest, I turn back to my sister.

“You’re dead set on this?”

Her face turns serious. “Yes, Hunter. I am,” she says.

I nod at her confirmation.

“We need you too, Hunter. You know much more than you think, and out of all of us, you’ve been on Isla Cara the most,” Misha says.

He’s right.

Out of the group in front of me, I’m the only one who has spent months at a time on the island.

Months filled with nothing but pain and haziness and mental anguish.

“You’re expecting too much from me,” I say, and my voice sounds strange to my ears.

Then, with a look at the rest of the room’s occupants, I release a short sigh that does nothing to ease the tension in my sternum.