Read Backs Against the Wall (Survival Series) for Free Online Page B

canary. “Ryan has use for charm.”
    I don’t want to talk about Ryan and his charm. Or my eyes or his eyes or anyone’s thoughts on either of them. That’s a whole mess of crap that I don’t understand. I also feel like it’s something I cannot and do not want to stop which makes it scary and I hate being scared. But I want it.
    It’s confusing.
    “Why are you here?” I ask, feeling like I’m repeating myself.
    Trent approaches me abruptly, reaching for my arm. I jump away from him into the hall, careful not to be trapped. He eyes me blankly.
    “I need to look at your arm and report back to Prince Charming,” he tells me calmly.
    “You’re not touching it,” I snap. He narrows his eyes at me and I sigh. “I don’t even let Ryan touch it. Not since he bandaged it. I’m not… I’m not good at being touched. I’m not good at trusting people.”
    “You don’t say.”
    “Just go, okay? I’m fine. Thanks so much for stopping by.”
    He stands in the open doorway, looking out into the hall at me. Finally he gestures to the knife in my hand.
    “If I come toward you to leave, are you going to stab me?”
    I squeeze my hand reflexively. “Maybe.”
    “I’ll take my chances.”
    He steps toward me very slowly, very deliberately. I want to stick him. It’s instinct for me and I can’t turn it off. I can barely stand Ryan in my space. Having someone come at me that I don’t trust? Part of me is itching to put the blade in him and drop him to the ground. I don’t want to kill another person, that’s not what it is. It’s survival. It’s spending years not having people in my personal space. It’s something I felt coiled inside of me in the Colony but I never had a weapon to do anything about it. Nothing more violent than a fork. But standing here now with him advancing on me, his sharp, predators gaze locked on my face, and the means to defend myself? Auto-pilot is begging to come back on and I very nearly slam the blade into his stomach. To the hilt.
    “ Oooh,” he says quietly, watching my eyes. “You’re thinking about it. That’s good. You don’t want to lose that edge. Going soft will get you killed.”
    I take a quick, deep breath but my voice is rock solid. “Crowding me while I’m armed will get you killed too.”
    “I’m not worried,” he says with that feline grin of his. He steps away, turning his back on me to show just now not worried he is. As he walks down the hall, leaving me standing there with my knife ready and my muscles aching to end somebody, he calls over his shoulder, “You’re holding that knife all wrong. I’d have had it in your stomach before you’d ever get it near mine.”
     
    ***
     
    It’s not until a week later that I finally have to explain what I plan to do. I think Ryan and I were both avoiding it; me because I simply didn’t want to tell him and have to face his reaction to it, and him because he was so happy to have me back and alive he didn’t want to talk about me committing suicide just yet.
    During that week, the weight of Vin’s ring gets heavier and heavier. After the first week, when I know I’ve missed the market and it won’t come around again for another month, I can barely choke down my meals I’m so riddled with guilt. Letting people in is more painful than I remember. It’s not just the pain of watching them die, rise again and having to kill them yourself for the final time. That’s manageable. It’s this everyday complicated, emotional nonsense that makes me want to cut and run every single day. It has occurred to me more than once to pack up my gear and head for the hills. To leave all of this behind me and forget any of it ever happened. Ryan, Vin, Trent, the Colony, Nats, the kitchen crew, the pumpkin pie. It was all a strange, tasty dream. One I will work for years to forget. But I know from experience that I can and will eventually forget. At least I hope.
    “Joss?” Ryan prods , pulling me back to reality. “Lay it