C H A P T E R 15 Day 1.

ALISA:

Day one. The woods. The start of what might just be my personal version of hell. 

Zane had been gone for hours, allegedly "hunting," while I was left with a fire pit and zero skills to do anything remotely useful. Not that I cared. I wasn't about to act like some damsel waiting for a hero to show up with dinner. 

By the time he returned, dragging a deer carcass like he'd just won the Olympics, I was already irritated. 

"Well, look who finally decided to show up," I called out, crossing my arms. "What took you so long? Did you have to flirt with it first?" 

Zane rolled his eyes, his usual smugness firmly in place. "Good to see you've been holding down the fort, *princess.* The fire's almost as dead as your sense of humor." 

I opened my mouth for a scathing reply, but before I could unleash it, I noticed something—or rather, *someone*—emerging from the trees behind him. 

My breath caught. A man, tall and wiry, moved with the kind of silence that screamed *danger.* He had a knife in hand, its blade catching the faint light filtering through the trees. 

And Zane? Completely oblivious. 

"Zane," I hissed, trying to keep my voice low but urgent. 

"What now?" he muttered, turning to dump the deer by the fire pit. 

"Behind you!" 

He frowned, his eyes narrowing like he thought I was messing with him. "Nice try, Alisa. You're not gonna—" 

The man lunged. 

It happened so fast I barely had time to think. Zane turned just in time to block the initial strike, his reflexes kicking in as he grabbed the guy's wrist. The knife hovered inches from his throat, their strength evenly matched. 

I froze, my heart pounding. Do something, Alisa! *Do anything!* 

My eyes darted to the small pile of supplies Zane had dumped earlier. And there it was: a dented, grimy frying pan. 

Without thinking, I grabbed it and ran toward them. 

Zane was gritting his teeth, his muscles straining as he fought to keep the knife away. "Anytime now, Alisa!" he snapped. 

"On it!" I shouted, raising the pan. 

"What the—" 

*CLANG.* 

The sound reverberated through the woods as the pan connected with the man's head. He stumbled, his grip on the knife loosening, before collapsing in a heap at Zane's feet. 

For a moment, neither of us moved. 

"Did you just…" Zane finally said, his voice laced with disbelief. 

"Hit him with a frying pan? Yes. Yes, I did," I said, still holding the pan like it was a sword. 

Zane blinked, looking between me and the unconscious man. "Why… why do you even *have* a frying pan?" 

"I don't know, Zane! Maybe because I thought I'd be *cooking something,* not saving your sorry ass!" 

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "You've got to be kidding me. Out of all the ways—" 

"Hey!" I cut him off, jabbing the pan in his direction. "You're welcome, by the way. Or would you have preferred he finish the job?" 

Zane's lips twitched, like he was fighting back a smile—or maybe a laugh. "You're insane." 

"And you're alive, so you're welcome again." 

We both stared at the man on the ground, his chest rising and falling faintly. 

"What do we do with him?" I asked, the adrenaline starting to wear off. 

Zane smirked, reaching down to tie the guy's hands with a length of cord. "Oh, don't worry. We'll have a nice, *friendly* chat when he wakes up." 

"Great. Can't wait," I muttered, tossing the pan aside. "Next time, maybe try not to get yourself killed." 

Zane looked at me, his expression unreadable for a moment, before he said, "And next time, try not to leave a dent in the cookware. We're going to need that." 

I glared at him, but the corner of his mouth quirked up, and for a second, I almost smiled back. Almost. 

Day one, and we hadn't killed each other yet. That had to count for something.

***

The cave was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the fire Zane had built. Quiet except for my thoughts, which were a mess of anger and confusion. It didn't help that Zane was sitting across from me, sharpening his knife with the kind of focus that made it look like he wasn't even remotely concerned about the unconscious man tied up between us. 

Typical. 

"What's the plan?" I finally asked, my voice cutting through the silence. 

Zane didn't look up. "The plan is for him to wake up, spill everything, and then we decide whether to leave him in one piece." 

I rolled my eyes. "Fantastic. Love the ambiguity. What if he doesn't talk?" 

"He'll talk," Zane said, his tone flat. "They always do." 

As if on cue, the man groaned, his head lolling to the side before his eyes blinked open. He groaned again, squinting up at us. 

"Welcome back, sunshine," Zane said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he leaned forward, flipping the knife casually in his hand. 

The man looked between us, his expression quickly shifting from confusion to realization. "You—" 

"Yeah, yeah," Zane cut him off, gesturing for him to save it. "We skipped introductions. Let's keep it simple. Who are you, and why were you about to gut me like a fish?" 

The man sneered, tugging at the ropes that bound his wrists. "You think I'm telling you anything?" 

Zane's smirk widened, and he leaned closer. "Oh, you'll tell me. Whether you want to or not." 

I sighed, stepping forward before Zane could start with whatever *method* he had in mind. "Look, you're tied up in a cave in the middle of nowhere. If you cooperate, we won't leave you here for the coyotes. Sound fair?" 

The man's eyes narrowed at me, his lip curling. "You're her. The girl with the bounty." 

My stomach dropped, but I kept my face neutral. "What bounty?" 

He let out a laugh, sharp and humorless. "The one your boyfriend over there pissed off Lucas enough to put on your head. Said he'd pay good money for you—alive or dead." 

I turned to Zane, my anger flaring. "Are you serious right now?" 

Zane held up his hands, looking almost amused. "What? You think I asked him to do that?" 

"This is your fault!" I snapped, pointing at him. "Lucas hates *you,* not me. So why am I suddenly on everyone's hit list?" 

"Because Lucas knows I care, and he's a petty bastard," Zane said, shrugging like it wasn't a big deal. 

I gawked at him, my voice rising. "Care? You don't care, Zane. You just like having someone around to bicker with!" 

"Aw, sweetheart," he said, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. "You really think I'd drag you through the woods just for fun? I must care at least a little." 

I wanted to scream. Instead, I turned back to the man, who was watching our argument like it was free entertainment. "What else did Lucas tell you?" 

The man grinned, his teeth yellowed in the firelight. "Not much. Just that you'd make good money on the market. Pretty face like yours? Yeah, you'd fetch a high price." 

Zane's knife stilled in his hand, his expression darkening. "You're treading on thin ice, pal." 

But I didn't wait for Zane to say more. My fist shot out before I even realized what I was doing, connecting squarely with the man's nose. The sickening crunch echoed through the cave, and he let out a howl of pain before slumping over, unconscious again. 

I winced, shaking out my hand. "He was talking too much." 

Zane blinked, his mouth slightly open, before a slow grin spread across his face. "Remind me not to piss you off." 

I glared at him, still shaking my hand. "This is *your* fault." 

"Sure," he said, his grin widening. "But admit it—you enjoyed that." 

I huffed, sitting back down and muttering, "He deserved it." 

Zane's laugh was low and almost... admiring. "You're full of surprises, Alisa." 

I ignored him, trying to focus on the pain in my hand instead of the way his words made my stomach flip. One day down. Only four more to go.