Page 7 of Split You Open

Rhett shakes his head. “When the coast is clear, I’m pulling over to tend to that bullet wound.”

“With what first aid?”

He shoots me a worried look that only makes me chuckle again.

“Relax, Rhett. This isn’t the first, or the worst, gunshot I’ve had—I’ll survive. And look on the bright side, if I don’t make it, you can return to Santi and⁠—”

“Shut up, Blair.”

I flinch at the venom in his voice.

“You’re not dying on my watch, got it?”

I nod slowly, surprised by the passion in his tone.

“Yeah, I got it, Rhett.”

Three

Rhett

“Blair, wake up, I found a place.”

The little one-story house, with filthy windows and a partially caved-in porch, is nestled in the middle of nowhere, but it’ll have to do for now. I’d caught sight of it off the highway just by happenstance. The tiny tin smokestack, tarnished and partially covered in vines, had glinted just right in the afternoon light. From the highway, I didn’t even know what I saw.

It didn’t matter. The risk paid off. This place is abandoned, so it’s perfect for us to bunker down for a bit.

With a heavy sigh of relief, I park the car as far off the small dirt road as possible. I glance over at Blair, who’s curled up in the passenger seat. Her blood is dripping from the sleeve of her shirt. My stomach twists with worry. She’s been in and out of consciousness since being shot.

When she’s awake, she’s alert. But when she’s out, she’s as still and as quiet as the dead.

“Blair?” I call out, louder this time.

When she doesn’t respond, I reach over and place my hand on her leg. One minute she’s limp, and the next she’s sitting straight up and her right hand has a tight grip around my wrist.

Our eyes lock and the cold, depthless void in hers recedes. It’s eerie how detached she can become. Stumbling upon her, after finding all those dead men in the road, she’d been the same way.

It was as if she didn’t have a soul then, and it’s like that now.

I know that’s not the case, though. I felt it the night she saved my life and held me in her arms in her bed. Ever since, I’ve felt its caress in small moments that we’ve shared.

Like during our banter over who was the winner of The Hunt.

When the three of us were crouching down and giving Abby a proper memorial.

And when she lowered her guard enough to give me control while we both played with Santi. Blair’s soul’s touch might be featherlight but undeniably there.

But, damn, Blair must bury it deep when she gets like this.

“...he put her through vigorous training not even grown men tend to make it through.”

Ledger’s words, spoken during an interrogation in the basement, come back to haunt me as I watch the tension in Blair’s body recede. What the fuck has Blair gone through to be able to turn off the part of her that makes her human?

“Oh.” She breathes in relief and sags back in her seat. “Sorry.”

She doesn’t let me go, but her grip loosens so that I can pull away if I want to.

I don’t.