One deep breath. Another.
It’s a few moments before she’s ready to move again. Winding through the debris, she picks her way across the restaurant terrace and peers over the balustrade to the pool. For a moment, she thinks she sees a person before she realizes that it’s only a daybed, half submerged in the pool, one end bobbing up and through the water.
She shifts right to get a vantage point of the beach.
Chaos.
More sand is being whirled up into mini vortexes. Trees uprooted from the cliff have now taken rocks down with them, vast lumps of stone studding the sand. She looks left, toward the islet. From this angle, she can just about make out the rope swing, individual ropes being wildly tossed about by the wind.
No one’s there.
Turning, she moves quickly toward the yoga pavilion—long, loping strides. Obstacles wherever she goes: puddles, clods of churned-up earth, debris. From the corner of her eye, she’s convinced she sees movements, but it’s only her own erratic, jerky gestures reflected in the glass walls of the main lodge.
Once she reaches the yoga pavilion, she takes another look around her. Still no sign.
The only place left outside, at this level, is the back of the main lodge. If they’re not there, she’ll have to search the building itself. There’s a small chance they might have doubled back, gone inside.
As Elin starts to half walk, half run, a dogged panic settles in her chest. Out here, exposed like this, she can’t help but feel that she’s being watched: that Caleb Jackson’s aware that she escaped the islet and is lying in wait for her somewhere.
Skin crawling, she has to force the thought away, keep moving. At the corner of the lodge, she forks right. Back to the wall, she skirts around the side, finding cover as best she can. This close to the woodland, the path is littered with twigs, whole branches, wrenched from the trees. It’s as if the island isn’t just turning on the retreat, but on itself, won’t stop until it’s stripped itself bare.
Stopping at the back of the lodge, she scans the terrace, the grass in front dipping away into woodland.
Her eyes lock on the dark mass of the forest beyond, the only color the bright triangles of trail markers tacked to the trees. If she thought it was wild the last time she’d glimpsed it, it’s become something other; as though the whole forest is moving as one entity, trees not just thrashing wildly, individually, but beating together.
A force.
As Elin stares into the depths, finding Caleb and Ronan suddenly seems an impossible task. Too much ground to cover on her own.
Should she abandon hope? Do as Steed suggested and wait for backup?
But it’s then that she hears something.
Stilling every muscle, Elin strains her ears.
A voice: Caleb’s.
Low muttered tones. Getting louder. Another voice, a cry of pain.
She holds her breath.
Ronan and Caleb are heading her way.
97
Caleb must have been lying low, somewhere close to where she’d exited the building, waiting until he thought it was clear.
Elin looks wildly around her. If he finds her here, out in the open, she loses any element of surprise. With Caleb armed, she stands no chance.
Her gaze lurches toward the lodge, the doors. Too late: she goes that way and she’ll be heading straight toward them, plus she needs her pass to get in. It’ll take too long.
The woods.
The throbbing in her ribs, chest, is now insistent, but she tries to force a jog across the grass, toward the first thicket of trees. Wood chippings and pine needles spray out as her feet clumsily pound the ground.
She’s only a few yards from the forest when her foot slides out from under her. No purchase on the slippery ground.
Tumbling forward, her hands jerk out to break her fall. A brutal jarring as her palms slam against the ground, the impact surging up her arms to her chest. The pain around her ribs grips tighter and she gasps, drawing herself up onto her hands and knees.
Elin glances in the direction of the lodge.
They’re closer. A few more feet and they’ll be almost parallel to her.
Aghast, she lies flat, tries not to make a sound, draw attention to herself. The soil is damp, tiny stones within it digging into her cheeks.
Holding her breath, she can feel her heart pounding.
The wind drops so she can hear voices again. Caleb’s, growing louder.
Did they see her fall? Are they heading her way now?
If they hadn’t seen her then, once they get parallel to her, they’re certain to.
Move. She has to move.
Hauling herself forward, staying low, she plunges into the dense undergrowth. Brambles and twigs poke and prod at her face, snagging on her clothing.